Summary of Samantha Irby's We Are Never Meeting in Real Life. , livre ebook

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49 pages

English

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Please note: This is a companion version & not the original book.
Sample Book Insights:
#1 I am about to crush a beer can on my forehead. I am Samantha McKiver Irby, age 35ish, but I could pass for forty-seven to fifty-two. I am nominally female.
#2 I am a client services director at an animal hospital. I am extremely lazy, but I am good at playing the race card and eating other people’s lunches in the break room. I was born in Evanston, Illinois, a suburb along the lake north of Chicago.
#3 I was a teenage girl who needed lipstick, and I couldn’t wait two years for regular babysitting jobs to start paying enough for me to buy it. So I went to the Osco in downtown Evanston and slipped tubes of Revlon’s Toast of New York and Iced Coffee into my coat pocket. I was met at the door by a manager, who was black. I was arrested.
#4 I am too lazy to get married, and I don’t have the money to go through multiple background checks. I am looking for someone who doesn’t irritate me, and who is also minimally annoyed by my irritating habits.

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Publié par	Everest Media LLC
Date de parution	01 mai 2022
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781669397328
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0150€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Insights on Samantha Irby's We Are Never Meeting in Real Life
Contents Insights from Chapter 1 Insights from Chapter 2 Insights from Chapter 3 Insights from Chapter 4 Insights from Chapter 5 Insights from Chapter 6 Insights from Chapter 7 Insights from Chapter 8 Insights from Chapter 9 Insights from Chapter 10 Insights from Chapter 11 Insights from Chapter 12 Insights from Chapter 13 Insights from Chapter 14 Insights from Chapter 15 Insights from Chapter 16 Insights from Chapter 17 Insights from Chapter 18 Insights from Chapter 19 Insights from Chapter 20
Insights from Chapter 1

#1

I am about to crush a beer can on my forehead. I am Samantha McKiver Irby, age 35ish, but I could pass for forty-seven to fifty-two. I am nominally female.

#2

I am a client services director at an animal hospital. I am extremely lazy, but I am good at playing the race card and eating other people’s lunches in the break room. I was born in Evanston, Illinois, a suburb along the lake north of Chicago.

#3

I was a teenage girl who needed lipstick, and I couldn’t wait two years for regular babysitting jobs to start paying enough for me to buy it. So I went to the Osco in downtown Evanston and slipped tubes of Revlon’s Toast of New York and Iced Coffee into my coat pocket. I was met at the door by a manager, who was black. I was arrested.

#4

I am too lazy to get married, and I don’t have the money to go through multiple background checks. I am looking for someone who doesn’t irritate me, and who is also minimally annoyed by my irritating habits.

#5

I love watching The Bachelorette. I love watching men humiliate themselves. I wish it was on every night. I assume every man I meet is bored and hates me.

#6

The Bachelorette proves that men are as petty and vapid and ridiculous as women are made to seem. They’re just better at hiding it, because they get to be Real Men and sulk and brood.

#7

The bedroom is also an elimination chamber, where the men are kicked out if they don’t meet the criteria. No foreplay. NO ROSE. Takes too long to come. Rabbit fucking. Blows air into my vagina.

#8

The show is about marriage, but my starry eyes and pinchable cheeks don’t matter. People get over my dimples easily within six months. My real flaws are now comfortable enough to come out and leave halfway through the concert to go take a shit.

#9

I didn't need a fancy wardrobe or stylist. I would wear my own terrible clothes. The brothers were going to see me in my pajamas anyway, so why front. I didn't need a fancy hair person. My barber cut my hair for twenty dollars and then I oiled it up.

#10

The bachelor finale is usually like this: we’re sharing a postcoital can of beer and watching Jimmy Fallon. I get up to find my bra and pee for the thirty-seventh time while he tries to wake up his erection for round two. I come back to bed with more beers, a bag of pretzels, and cold leftover pizza.
Insights from Chapter 2

#1

When you are a certain type of sap, you will enjoy a moment like this. You will think that this might be real and cool, and start thinking about accidentally leaving some allergy meds and an old toothbrush in a guy’s bathroom.

#2

Fred had a house, and in that house was a juicer and a fruit bowl that held seven perfectly ripened mangoes. I was struck by the half-empty bottle of Dawn propping up a sponge on the sink, and I thought to myself how amazing it was that this was a man who used dishes and then washed them.

#3

I thought Fred was my Love Jones, the black renaissance relationship I’d been waiting for, until I got dumped because I cannot have a baby. I spent an inordinate amount of time concocting our fantasy future.

#4

I was not calloused enough to handle the out-of-context social media posts of an ex-boyfriend, so I deleted him from my Internet slate and avoided people who would ask me when I was going to get back on Match. com.

#5

I would tell myself to just wait for everyone else to get old, since I would never be able to pursue someone romantically. I had arthritis in my knee joints and hand joints, and nerve palsy.

#6

I was not a person who liked meeting people online. I had read many a snarky article about blind dates being derailed by the super mean liarface who had broken some naive young man's heart by arriving at the arranged meeting place overweight.

#7

I made a mixtape for Michael, and he didn’t text me ever again after that. I was disappointed, because he had made me a mixtape—an actual burned CD with the artists and song titles printed neatly on a sheet of accompanying notebook paper.

#8

It’s easy to just burn the past relationships you’ve had with an asshole.

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