Oh, honey. No. Y’all stop it.
Look at this, right here in the front row. Look at this.
Y’all, we have got babies in the audience. Just… precious, little, un-ruined babies.
What’s y’all’s name?
(Leans down, holding the mic out)
“Kaylee?” Oh, of course it’s Kaylee. And… “Hunter?”
Kaylee and Hunter, y’all. Just… bless your whole entire heart. Y’all look like you just fell off the top of a wedding cake. You look like you just got your driver’s license… together.
Honey, how old are y’all?
(Pulls mic back)
They’re nineteen. 🤣
Nineteen! Y’all, they can’t even legally drink in this establishment! What are y’all sipping on? A damn Shirley Temple? Are you drunk on Sprite?
Oh, this is that “young love.” 🤣 That pure, “I’m-gonna-die-if-you-don’t-text-me-back” love.
How long have y’all been together?
(Leans back in)
“Six months.”
(Turns to the audience, eyes wide. Whispers.)
Six. Months.
Y’all. At nineteen, six months is a lifetime. That’s an eternity. Y’all have probably already planned the wedding, picked out the names of your three kids, and decided what color curtains are gonna be in your dream double-wide. Am I right?
Look at her! She’s blushing! Honey, don’t you blush. You are in it.
You’re in that phase where y’all are just… obsessed. You’re probably still shaving your legs for him. You’re still sucking in your gut. This ain’t love, honey, this is marketing.
Y’all… y’all know what they fight about? They fight about “who loves who more.” They fight about, “Why did you ‘like’ that girl’s picture from 2017?” They fight about, “You didn’t use the heart-eyes emoji, you just used the regular heart! Do you still love me?!”
Y’all, I’ve been with my husband, Boo, for years. You know what we fight about? We fight about the electric bill. We fight about who’s gonna be the one to get up and get the remote that is two feet away.
That is real love. That is “old love.” That is “I’ve-seen-you-at-your-worst-and-I’m-still-not-leaving-because-I’m-on-your-cell-phone-plan” love.
Y’all’s “young love” is a damn drama. It’s a full-time job. Honey, my “passion” is when Boo comes home from work and he doesn’t talk to me for 45 minutes. I am thrilled. I am aroused.
No, y’all are cute. Give it up for ’em. Enjoy it, babies. Enjoy this phase. Because one day, you’re gonna look over at him, and he’s gonna be wearing sweatpants with a hole in ’em, eating cold pizza, and you’re gonna think… “Well. This is it.”
And that, honey, is forever.
Now, who’s ready for a damn drink? Lord. 🤣
