The Glamarazzi

My girlfriend vented to me that she and her boyfriend were fighting about money.

“I was just talking about enrolling in the gym.”
“How much is it?”
“P1,500 a month.”
“Which gym?”
“Marriott.”
“Oooohh… I like it there. So many gwapo.”
‘Doesn’t matter. He was like, Is it urgent?”
“Why is he asking you that?”
“I don’t get that, too. It’s MY money that I’m spending.”
“Too think you were so excited to tell him that.”
“Party pooper.”
“Rain on your parade.”
“It’s because I’m broke.”
Blank.
“You mean – “
“He just don’t understand why I’d want to spend that much when I’m already broke.”
“Hahahah!”
“Seriously.”
“I do not stress about money.”
“Me, too.”
“Money doesn’t grow on trees, true…”
“he doesn’t really have to be so high and mighty about it…”
“…but money always grow back.”
“One dad is enough for me.”
“When I’m broke, I spend more.”
“God, we are so much alike.”
“Or we are just so carefree in this world.”
2 seconds.
“Money should be the least of anyone’s problems.”
“He said, I’m sorry I’m not the gallant boyfriend you wanted who could help you spend on your caprices.”
“Caprices! It’s something a boyfriend of mine would say.”
“God, maybe they are brothers… separated at birth.”
“Men are very stingy when it comes to money. Maybe because they were also genetically wired to be predators with HEAD OF THE FAMILY carved on their forehead.”
“No, I’d just like to carve PARTY POOPER on his.”