On March 31 some years ago, my boyfriend at the time called me, distressed.
Louis is missing.
Louis was his big fluffy cat, whom I loved dearly.
I was so upset. The next day, he said there was no sign of Louis.
The day after that, we were set to meet at his apartment to go out on a date. I arrived early, to search the neighborhood for Louis. I looked in every bush and called his name again and again.
When the boyfriend (I won't even dignify him a fake name) arrived and let me into his apartment, there was Louis!
I was so happy to see him!
And then the ex told me that it had all been an April Fool's Day joke.
Not. Funny. Asshole.
A few weeks later, I brought the boyfriend with me to Easter dinner with my family, where he gleefully recounted his prank.
My grandma turned to him and pretty much nailed his whole personality to the wall with one statement:
On April 1, it's a joke. On the days before and after, it's just lying.
I love Grandma. She's so great at cutting through the bullshit.
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