It wasn’t so long ago that Harper and I would declare that we date like boys. Something about getting out early and not getting attached for the sake of attachment and never never writing our names with boys’ last names on the inside covers of our notebooks.
Well, Harper is dating someone. And I’m dating someone. And we like the boys we’re with, and we like the boys the other is with.
And all this happiness has collided in a hurricane of crazy-girlness.
Harper might know what colors she wants for her wedding. (I’m supportive because I look good in those colors.) I confide that I am pretty much in love with a dress from the Oscar de la Renta Spring 2008 bridal collection. (Harper’s supportive, ’cause I’d look good in that, too.)
Harper’s boy has a last name that’s heavy on the constants, so bulky names don’t sound good with it. But his has a good, strong, middle name. My boy has a last name that is hopelessly a noun. Any noun names sound silly, and adjective-y names sound like something from the newspaper classifieds.
Harper and I are talking about baby names. Like for serious. And sometimes being a girl is fun.