It was bound to happen--you're gradually becoming the lover from hell.
If you ask your mate, he'll tell you that you've become a rude Judy. A mean Mary. A flip Felicia. And it's as obvious as that glimmer in President Obama's eye every time he's with the First Lady.
And you know why:
You've witnessed our president swagger to the podium, long, lean and powerful--the very embodiment of GQ.
You've listened to his unifying, empowering speeches.
You've seen him extend an olive branch time and again to former political adversaries--and gasp!--even make room for them at the table of Hope and Change.
Oh, and you've watched him dance till dawn.
And then--BAM!--suddenly that man of yours isn't quite up to par.
And you've become really mean about telling him so.
Shame on you girlfriend!
And that poor guy doesn't have a clue about the origins of your random fits of anger and disappointment--that boatload of spite that's heading his way--or that has been popping up since the Inaugural.
For some suddenly disappointed ladies, the insults begin with a trickle: "Why don't you take me dancing like you used to? Oh that's right, you're addicted to Guitar Hero. Carry on."
Other disgruntled ladies deliver an offside kick out of nowhere: "Hey, Big Boy, why don't you shimmy your body rolls into your gym shorts and play basketball like our president does? Oh, that's right. You can't abandon your perfect-ass groove-in-the-couch project. Super Bowl is approaching and it must be just right. I totally understand."
And, alas, there are the Queens of Mean, these ladies go straight for the jugular: "Honey, is there a Wii program for bedroom moves? I can no longer afford the acting classes. You know, with our revised family budget and all..."
Let me be the first to apologize, guys.
On behalf of your suddenly mean girlfriend or wife, I'm sorry.
We know not what we do when we know what we like and we suddenly realize we're not getting it.
But we love you, anyway.
We think...