There’s a new man in my life, and I just can’t get enough of him.
I didn’t expect to fall for him, mind you. I expect my husband didn’t either—he’s the one that introduced us, you see. It was a snowy afternoon, and I’d been editing all morning. I was a bit burned out and needed a break. Jason suggested we see what was on Netflix.
Then, fate took over, and I found myself head-over-heels in love before I knew it.
My new boyfriend’s name is Walter White. I didn’t fall in love immediately: love at first sight is for fairy tales and greeting cards. No, it took me a good forty-three minutes into the first episode of Breaking Bad before I recognized what those fluttery worms in my belly were. Love. Or infatuation, at least.
The logical part of my brain tried to talk me out of it. After all, Walter cooks meth for a living. Sometimes he does bad things. But the emotional side spoke up: “You know, there’s always been something about bad boys. Something ... hot.” My heart agreed.
I’ve turned into the worst kind of girlfriend. I want to spend all my free time with Walter. Things like cooking, cleaning, working, showering ... all have been abandoned in favor of quality time with this man. I just love everything he does. Okay, sure, maybe his career choice isn’t exactly honorable. But he wouldn’t have that job if he wasn’t a brilliant chemist. And he’s certainly financially stable; both of these things (brains and money) are definitely checks in the “plus” column.
And I’m certainly not one to condone violence and murder. But arguably, Walter only does these things when he absolutely has to—when there’s no other choice. It’s kind of self defense, really.
I’ve found that when I do tear myself away from Walter to be with other people, all I can talk about is this amazing, fabulous man. Plus I remind whomever I’m with that they’re interfering with my Walter time. (I think they should know the sacrifice I’m making.)
But the worst possible thing happened last week: my family and I got together to celebrate my father’s birthday (that’s not the bad part—happy birthday, Dad!). And as I was gushing to my sister about my boyfriend Walter White, she ... gushed right back. It turns out she’s in love with Walter, too.
Is there enough of this man to go around? Or will my sister and I have our first true punch-throwing, hair-ripping catfight in the history of our sisterhood? Only time will tell. The good news is, neither one of us wants to turn off Breaking Bad long enough to duke it out.
I didn’t expect to fall for him, mind you. I expect my husband didn’t either—he’s the one that introduced us, you see. It was a snowy afternoon, and I’d been editing all morning. I was a bit burned out and needed a break. Jason suggested we see what was on Netflix.
Then, fate took over, and I found myself head-over-heels in love before I knew it.
My new boyfriend’s name is Walter White. I didn’t fall in love immediately: love at first sight is for fairy tales and greeting cards. No, it took me a good forty-three minutes into the first episode of Breaking Bad before I recognized what those fluttery worms in my belly were. Love. Or infatuation, at least.
The logical part of my brain tried to talk me out of it. After all, Walter cooks meth for a living. Sometimes he does bad things. But the emotional side spoke up: “You know, there’s always been something about bad boys. Something ... hot.” My heart agreed.
I’ve turned into the worst kind of girlfriend. I want to spend all my free time with Walter. Things like cooking, cleaning, working, showering ... all have been abandoned in favor of quality time with this man. I just love everything he does. Okay, sure, maybe his career choice isn’t exactly honorable. But he wouldn’t have that job if he wasn’t a brilliant chemist. And he’s certainly financially stable; both of these things (brains and money) are definitely checks in the “plus” column.
And I’m certainly not one to condone violence and murder. But arguably, Walter only does these things when he absolutely has to—when there’s no other choice. It’s kind of self defense, really.
I’ve found that when I do tear myself away from Walter to be with other people, all I can talk about is this amazing, fabulous man. Plus I remind whomever I’m with that they’re interfering with my Walter time. (I think they should know the sacrifice I’m making.)
But the worst possible thing happened last week: my family and I got together to celebrate my father’s birthday (that’s not the bad part—happy birthday, Dad!). And as I was gushing to my sister about my boyfriend Walter White, she ... gushed right back. It turns out she’s in love with Walter, too.
Is there enough of this man to go around? Or will my sister and I have our first true punch-throwing, hair-ripping catfight in the history of our sisterhood? Only time will tell. The good news is, neither one of us wants to turn off Breaking Bad long enough to duke it out.
Isn't he dreamy?
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