So I talk a lot with my girlfriends and one topic we can’t seem to ever bypass is the ever wanted ‘boyfriend’. We all want the perfect spouse, the Ken to our Barbie doll life. Which immediately has me rolling my eyes and wearily telling them to enjoy where they are because it’s not any easier on the other side. Now I adore my boyfriend and most of the time I enjoy being in a relationship but it’s not anything like it was described to be and it’s certainly far from perfect. Most importantly though, he is no Ken and I for damn sure am not Barbie. What really helps us to make it thru is being our genuine selves. Take this story as a reference for what being in a relationship is actually like…
Yesterday I woke up pretty cranky and I decided to give him a peice of my mind ( never do this ladies, there are no winners) which lasted all day long. I was pissed he was pissed and eventually we just got tired of arguing ( truthfully neither of us can stay angry with each other very long). As usual he was the first to wave the white flag and wanted it to be over so knowing my love language he cleaned up the living room. Now for me nothing beats a clean living room so I accepted his retreat and just did some quiet reading rather than kick shit back up. Now I guess he was feeling extra charming because he also decided to cook( I guess kicking a fight isn’t so bad if it gets you dinner). I am feeling like a princess even if it is just chili dogs… Besides that he makes one mean chili. So basically we are back to our happy lives and watching the NBA finals until we fell asleep on the couch. Life is beautiful.
Now fast forward to 3 chili dogs and about 6 hours later – I’m up at 6:30am for a bathroom break, actually 3 bathroom breaks… that damn chili has taken my ass under siege and I’m trying to find refuge in the toilet bowl. I mean I was on fire but it finally calmed down long enough to be sitting pretty while I watched it all fall apart for the BF.
I am ever the lady so I quietly observed as he tried to find some type of control over his bowls. I suppose he felt a bit embarrassed because he soon admitted that he had a serious case of the shits. I laughed and got dressed. Feeling quite glamorous I suppose cause I pulled out my sexy lingerie to go under my clothes – my boyfriend rose an eyebrow because I hardly wear underwear and usually nothing so nice. Seriously,he may have thought I was cheating for a second but I was to cute for his questions. So instead I offered him some tea for his tummy and said I had to leave for class.
Not even fifteen minutes later was I barreling back in the door out of breath and petrified that I was going to shit myself in the middle of the kitchen. Now this would be horrifying if I was living a fairytale life but I’m just Bre and Bre has the shits sometimes so I finally scream from the OPEN bathroom door ” what the hell did you put in that chili?” As I took off that high dollar, impractical, shit stained lingerie!
Now that’s a relationship! It’s nothing like Instagram or any of that other bullshit people love to sell… It’s two people caching the shit and sharing a bathroom! Going thru the shit storm together and making it out better than before. We turn lemons into lemonade , or diarrhea inducing chili dogs into ‘ colon cleansing chili dogs- all the flavor none of the guilt’
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