Men should be like Kleenex, soft strong and disposable ~Cher
Yeah, if you’re here and it’s Friday it must be another date night. This far in a relationship (which admittedly is rare for me) is where I usually get the urge to leave without letting the door hit me in the arse on the way out. For some reason, right about now significant others always start to contemplate the “m” word. No, not THAT “m” word, it IS 2014 for the love of pete, the “moving in” word and that’s enough to fill me with enough angst to give me a good case of the hives. Don’t get me wrong, Taylor is OK, shoot, I reckon he is more than OK, he’s still putting up with me and a man with that kind of dogged determination is bound to have my mum buying a years subscription to a bridal magazine and counting the days ’til “the Big Day.” He’s a big hearted guy with a sense of humor, successful, and blind to the seriousness of my immeasurable imperfections, so what’s not to love anyway?
Well, in my eyes, a lot. I mean heck, (read no further mum!) sure he’s stayed over a time or two, nothing wrong there. But I relate that kind of behavior to typical date night fare. You know the type? It’s the type I call minimal exposure cohabitation, the exposure where you keep a mint in the night stand because heaven forbid he finds out that most mornings your breath could peel the wallpaper off the bathroom wall, or you run down to the convenience store to use the loo because the sounds and smells that follow you out of the bathroom are bound to have him thinking you have a dead body hidden in there? The type of cohabitation where you dress in the walkin closet because if he sees you sweating and grunting to get your spanx up he’s liable to call in a group of friends for an intervention? Yeah, I prefer the sort of typical date night cohabitation where the current beau only sees shadings of the truth.
The take from? I’ve been doing a good job of changing the subject when I think he is going to ask but I suppose I can’t hold out forever. And while I am not sure I acquaint men with kleenex, heck even Cher’s been married, what, two or three times, so she thought of some of them as less disposable. Well, until the divorce(s) at least. I do suppose I can bend a little more on the basis of being male friendly. I already have, you know, a few months ago I retired the plastic spork. I still occasionally feel the urge to bring it on the date, but so far I’ve quelled the need. But I imagine further concessions could be made. If I have to… I guess. I think tonight, in the spirit of giving, I will take an official and brave step. I think perhaps I will offer Taylor his very own empty drawer. See? Even Lil Cao’s can compromise when they need to. Sort of. Surely this was all written in gest anyway? Hey! It’s the weekend why don’t we all kick off early on making the merry? As for me, I’ve got to go hide in the closet and pull on those spanx before Taylor comes over to pick me up.