I don’t like eating at restaurants alone, but I’ll do it for pho because 1) pho can get nasty when you transport it elsewhere and 2) when I want pho, I want it NOW and don’t have time to round up a buddy. Anyway, I go to this pho place in Torrance and, like most Asian mom ‘n’ pop joints, there’s very little space between tables as the owners try to cram in as many customers as humanly possible. (Asians and their precise calculations.) So when I eat by myself, there’s a good chance I’ll overhear some conversations. Tonight, I heard couple breaking up. A lesbian couple breaking up.

It was so crazy. There were these two girls who looked like they were in college (Matt: Were they hot? Me: Yeah, pretty hot) just sitting there, dishing out their issues: You’re too clingy. I’m not ready to settle down. When I think about you, I feel nothing. I don’t love you anymore. We moved in together too soon. Stop pretending you know how I feel. I need my space. You need to move out. Tonight.

All the while, I’m just a foot and-a-half away, carefully slurping my Sriracha-saturated broth, trying not to draw attention to myself. I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I’ve just never experienced a lesbian break-up before and I sort of wish I had a pho buddy to share it with.