Ahhh… Poor Anthony 😭💔
The Girl Trip That Wouldn’t Die
It started like most legendary stories do — casually.
“It was fun.”
“But that wasn’t hilarious.”
“It’s hilarious now.”
And just like that, the memory came alive again. The California trip. The food poisoning. The airport confusion. The shared beds. The bubbling guts. The fact that somebody was clearly “out of it” and no one could remember exactly when it happened — just that it absolutely did.
The laughter wasn’t polite. It was loud, layered, overlapping. The kind where nobody finishes a sentence because everyone already knows the ending.
This wasn’t just storytelling.
This was reliving.
And in the middle of it all stood Anthony.
The Attempt
“Bae.”
Silence.
“Bae?”
“What?” she answered quickly — eyes still locked into the circle.
“I gotta run to the store a little later. Do y’all need anything?”
There it was. The effort. The consideration. The practical contribution to a conversation that had absolutely no practical direction.
“No, we’re good.”
And just like that… he was dismissed.
Not intentionally. Not maliciously.
Just… absorbed.
Poor Anthony 😭
The Sacred Circle
There are certain conversations that cannot be entered unless you were there.
Girl trip conversations are one of them.
You had to be there when everyone realized they all got food poisoning.
You had to be there when someone was barely functioning at the airport.
You had to be there when being big and pregnant made everything ten times more dramatic.
These aren’t just stories.
They’re emotional artifacts.
Anthony could not — and would not — crack that code.
The Oatmeal Incident
“Get out of that oatmeal.”
“Okay, grab some oatmeal, babe.”
And he did.
Because that’s what Anthony does.
He helps. He adjusts. He stands slightly to the side of the chaos.
But imagine the internal monologue as he opened the pantry:
How did oatmeal become my main role in this story?
He came in offering store runs. He left as the Oatmeal Guy.
Ahhh… Poor Anthony 😭💔
The Bahamas Pivot
Just when you thought the conversation might slow down — it escalated.
“I was thinking about going to the Bahamas.”
“Yes!”
“You should take Kai.”
“Take him to the beach.”
“Orlando or Destin.”
“The water’s crystal clear.”
“It feels like Mexico.”
Now they weren’t just reminiscing.
They were planning.
Dreaming.
Projecting themselves into future vacations with babies in sand and crystal-clear water sparkling in the sun.
Anthony tried one more time.
“You guys sure you don’t need anything?”
“No, babe. We’re good.”
Door closes.
Exit Anthony.
Stage left.
The Invisible Line
Here’s the dramatic truth:
Anthony wasn’t unwanted.
He was just outside the invisible line.
There’s a difference between being excluded and being adjacent.
He wasn’t part of the original California chaos. He didn’t experience the stomach cramps. He didn’t share the airport confusion. He wasn’t there when everyone went to bed together laughing through discomfort.
He doesn’t carry the same memory weight.
So when the laughter explodes, it isn’t against him.
It’s just not for him.
And that’s okay.
But it’s still dramatic.
The Grocery Store Reflection
Picture this.
Anthony standing in aisle five.
Staring at shelves.
Holding oatmeal.
Wondering how a simple “Do y’all need anything?” turned into a full emotional exile.
He scrolls his phone.
He grabs a few extra snacks anyway.
He debates if he should’ve asked differently.
But here’s what he doesn’t realize:
That laughter in the living room?
It’s the sound of something healthy.
Something solid.
Something that will come back to him later in softer form.
The Return
When he walks back in with the groceries, they’re still laughing.
Still mid-story.
Still loud.
But eventually — eventually — she’ll come find him.
She’ll say, “You should’ve heard what happened at the airport.”
She’ll retell it. Slightly toned down. Slightly more structured.
And he’ll laugh.
Late.
But genuine.
Because that’s the rhythm.
The Real Drama
The real drama isn’t that Anthony was ignored.
The real drama is that he keeps showing up anyway.
He keeps asking.
He keeps helping.
He keeps grabbing oatmeal.
He stands just outside the circle — not trying to control it, not trying to dominate it — just existing alongside it.
That’s not weakness.
That’s quiet strength.
Poor Anthony… But Also Lucky
Ahhh… Poor Anthony 😭💔
The man just wanted to know if anyone needed something from the store.
And somehow he became a side character in a saga about food poisoning, pregnancy, airport confusion, shared beds, Bahamas dreams, crystal-clear water, and mom breaks.
Tragic.
But also?
He’s lucky.
Because that laughter means joy.
That sisterhood means support.
That chaos means love.
And when the Bahamas trip actually happens?
He’ll be the one holding the bags.
Carrying the baby.
Applying sunscreen.
Making sure everyone eats something that won’t cause another disaster.
Still helpful.
Still steady.
Still Anthony.
And somehow…
Still standing.
Poor Anthony 😭