Thursday, 2 November 2017

She hates my guts but I don't know what that really means #DadDirt

MUM and DAD are in the kitchen, folding washing.

You hate my guts.

I don’t hate your guts.

You do. Which wife doesn’t.
I can get you to hate my guts just by being myself.
But here’s the thing, I don’t hate your guts.

I love your guts.
Like that’s the thing we strive for.
Alright so you say you don’t hate my guts right now, but you will do.
I spend every day thinking how can I finally get you to like them.

I love your guts.
I am besotted by them.
I think it’s your guts that get me going.
If I were pushed to choose, I’d say I was probably a guts man.

You have the finest guts.
I can’t take my eyes off them.
You nearly caught me checking out the guts of some woman in the shoe shop, but you won’t believe me that your guts - to me - are perfect.
I love the way they jiggle when you’re in a rush.


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What if I dont need yet another clock? Will I still worry about the spending at 2am? #DadDirt

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