Thursday, September 1, 2011
My Boyfriend > Yours
He messaged me on OKCupid because I listed my genetic disposition to love zombies. (That makes him awesome.) And the fact that I can play Magic the Gathering. (Which is what makes me awesome.)
His love of cats rocks. Because my cats do indeed fucking rock.
We both don't mind looking terrible at 5:30am after sex if it means going and getting donuts and milk immediately afterwards, before he goes to work.
He lets me make grocery demands. And he pays for them without complaint. (It may be the fact that we're both fat kids, and if he buys groceries, he knows the likeliness of him consuming said groceries go up...)
Even if all I make for lunch is fried hot dogs and brownies, he appreciates it anyway. We may have sloppy joe twice in a week, but he tells me it's delicious.
Or I manage to pick up 1 package of hamburger meat with a billion holes and it goes bad and I decide we need to go out for food because otherwise I will spontaneously combust if I experience any more failure in this 24 hour period.
Occasionally, I feel like this parasitic burden placed on him as some sort of punishment. I cannot fathom what he could have done to have me forced upon him... But it had to have been terrible.
When I feel like this, I usually wait all day to cry until he's ready for sleep. Or asleep. Or taken a sleeping pill to sleep.
I will tell him all day that I'm fine, zone out at the TV, clean like tomorrow's never coming again, or I'll compulsively touch things (rub my hands together, rub my thumb on my shirt or pant's cuffs, run my fingers across my arms...). These things probably make him nervous, as he is aware something is wrong, I just haven't exploded yet. When the day is over, we are crawling into bed, about 15 minutes into it, I will start crying. I can try and be quiet so he won't wake up and he'll feel bad in the morning... Or I can be quiet and he'll still freaking realize it, wake up, and tell me he loves me. And we'll talk and he'll tell me that I am none of the things I'm convinced I am, that he loves me. He will (attempt) to kiss me, even though my face is wet and I'm oozing liquids from my eyeballs.
The words "post-coitious ice cream ritual" sound good to anyone else?
The fact I can introduce him to shows that are fun and interesting to us both is new. And awesome. Because we can talk Doctor Who over whatever-the-fuck-I-felt-like-making dinner.
Or this proves that my boyfriend is an emotional and financial masochist and I am the ever-loving sadist everyone ever told me I was.