Boyfriend Makes a Friend

Since moving to New York City from the Southerland, Boyfriend has struggled with finding his own group of friends. First, he tried finding friends in the squirrels outside our apartment. Boyfriend would spend hours of his time gallivanting with these squirrels, offering them the special pistachio nuts he bought at the grocery store with them in mind. When they refused his courtship, Boyfriend began pushing them off the fences they perched atop. Next, he attached himself to my own clan of females, often cracking inappropriate jokes while we sipped wine and attempted to keep it classy. This also ended in failure. In an effort to forge new "relationships," Boyfriend has taken a liking to his Xbox. Typical, no? A man likes to play Xbox games. The not-so-typical? This man thinks his online Xbox world is perhaps a little more real-life than is probably normal. I recently had an argument with Boyfriend about his new Xbox "friends." My point? They're not real. His? Well, here is what he told me while defending his new favorite people:

It's about building relationships. When I responded with, "I'm sorry...relationships?" He countered with a "Yes. You're doing something together that you enjoy." Ah yes, much like when I go to a yoga class and bond with people while enjoying the downward dog. Except I know who they are because I can see them.

Half of them are older than me. This was a response to when I pointed out that he's probably playing with little boys from around the world. He also concluded that a player named "Redneck Gunner" could not possibly be from anywhere but the United States.


Zombieman is 40, his name's Chris. And again, I ask these are your friends? I rest my case.

If you find that your man is now taking a new liking to his Xbox like never before, please be aware. It is not safe, nor is it normal. Only a man would think it is routine to "forge relationships" at 3:00 am...with strangers...over shooting people in fake combat. My remedy? I steal his headset and remind the boys that he has a girlfriend, and a very obnoxious one at that. Nobody will be hunting and kidnapping Boyfriend anytime soon.  If that doesn't work? Buy him pistachio nuts and send him to Central Park.

Boots has a Valentine

Ah yes, the Valentines Post. I know you were expecting it, anticipating it even. Valentines is the one day a year we couples have an excuse to rub our love and romanticism in the faces of those living a life in Single Town. If you are one of the many single people who loath this holiday as much as I did Pre-Boyfriend, do not fret. You have your day every other day of the year when you don't have to utter the phrase, "No, honey, I do NOT want to spend my only day off watching you play Modern Warfare with your thirteen year old 'friends' online in Japan." But alas the holiday came and I embraced it. Here are all the things that went wrong, and one thing that went oh so right on my Valentines...

1.) I looked like a jerk. I planned our Valentines for the 15th because of schedule conflicts on the 14th. However, I still came home on February 14th with a completely cheesy, but totally Valentines-acceptable gift of naming a star after my lover. Even though we had previously agreed that I would plan Valentines while Boyfriend planned our anniversary less than a month ago, I fully expected to be surprised by an elaborate marriage proposal a gift I "wasn't expecting." Instead, I got a "thanks, babe" and "I was going to send you an e-card." ...I wish I was joking. This meant Boyfriend spent the rest of the evening listening to me moan and whine about how much more romantic I am than he. Of course, the following day, our own Valentines Day,  Boyfriend appeared with a box of pre-ordered chocolate covered strawberries and a card declaring his love for me. Please allow me to reiterate, the gift was pre-ordered. Meaning, I had punished Boyfriend for no reason...and I am an asshole. There, I said it, now are you happy, Boyfriend?

Fine, I'll admit it. He is sort of sweet.

2.) I made the worst date choice. I planned an afternoon of painting pottery, to be followed by a strict reservation at a fabulous Italian restaurant. For any normal couple, this would be an easy and relaxing way to spend some time together. We are not a normal couple. Apparently, when you are in a relationship with Picasso you simply cannot "rush a masterpiece." We had only a couple of hours to paint our pottery before leaving for dinner. I finished mine, a much larger piece might I add, in one and a half hours. This is a completely reasonable amount of time. However, I then spent the next hour and a half watching Boyfriend paint slower than a snail crossing the intersection. My little Monet was so involved that holding any conversation would obviously "ruin his concentration." Thus I sat in silence while humming to the playlist over the speakers and praying Boyfriend's piece would suffer from random spontaneous combustion.

Boyfriend has such delicate fingers. 

The Met won't stop begging me for it.

3.) I took a wrestler to a tea party. Well, not really, but I did take Boyfriend to an extremely fancy restaurant, which is so not his cup of tea no pun intended. Simply put, Boyfriend is not exactly a fancy man. He does not believe in using napkins, but prefers the mobility and convenience of his pants legs. His idea of drinks with dinner is a very large soda with a twisty straw and chicken wings. Regardless, I dressed this man in a suit and brought him to a very nice dinner. He spent the evening making inappropriate jokes, drinking with his pinky in the air, and patting the sides of his mouth sarcastically with his napkin. I loved every minute of it.

My Valentines Day was not at all picture perfect. (We didn't even celebrate on the right day.) But my Valentines Day was spent with the most ridiculous, frustrating, time-consuming and often embarrasing man in my life. He is perfect for me, and I would not have changed a thing about February 15th. (Insert eye roll here.) I don't care. If you've been there, you get it. Everything went wrong, but everything was so right when I got to hold Boyfriend's hand and call him my Valentine. Happy Single Awareness Day, everyone. I hope yours was as ironically awesome as mine. 

When Boyfriend Becomes a Celebrity

Boyfriend thinks he is a celebrity. No, this is not an exaggeration. Since writing my first blog post about him on the world wide web, this man thinks he is more famous than peach cobbler in Georgia. His newly discovered fame has also led to some new difficulties in our relationship. For instance, Boyfriend has begun doing things on purpose out of spite for my blog. I have the photo evidence to prove it.

The following are photos of Boyfriend's socks in various ridiculous poses around our apartment.

In MY shoes...at 6:30 a.m.

On our bed...which is right next to the hamper.

On top of the trashcan in our bathroom when I get home.

Let me explain. You see, when I wrote last week's blog post about the four fights that have encompassed our relationship, I did not intend to imply that all of these fights are a consistent daily occurrence. They are simply fights that seem to creep into our relationship more times than not over the last three years. Boyfriend felt that the sock fight had not happened quite enough to make a space in my blog post. Therefore, he has taken it upon himself to place his socks in the most obnoxious ways around our apartment. This man has lost his mind. 

To punish Boyfriend for his unnecessary sock antics, I have decided to share a little "True Hollywood Story" for my new bloggy-celebrity. I give you Boyfriend in his daily attire:

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Boyfriend takes the dog out at night in a snow suit...that's belted...which zips up...much like a onsie. Some might find this to be completely practical. After all, it is winter, right? Wrong. Boyfriend has been wearing this snow suit around Astoria since it was still 50 degrees outside. Regardless of the temperature, Boyfriend finds it necessary to don his suit and prance around the block as if he's preparing to go cross-country skiing in the world's tackiest outfit. 

The madness has to stop. 

Boyfriend, if you are reading this, please make it a point to remove your socks from my side of the room or I'm bringing out the leprechaun photos. 

Three Arguments and One War

For my first official post in The Adventures, I will discuss the most prevalent problem in any young adult relationship: fighting. Boyfriend and I are prone to such instances of debauchery which usually end in me throwing something small at his head. I use these moments to put my hilarious sarcasm on display in all of its under-appreciated glory. Fights are the one time I am allowed to point out the fact that we’re always late because Boyfriend’s primping takes longer than Cher’s, or his obnoxious tendency to talk to animals in public as if they’re his friends is embarrassing. No...I am not joking.

But I digress.

The real point of this post? Three ridiculous arguments in my relationship, and one argument that I, as a self-respecting smart ass, will never back down from…

1.)    Socks belong in the hamper.  I am only going to repeat myself one more time. Socks belong in the hamper. They do not belong on the dining room table, nor do they belong next to my pillow. Socks do not belong in the dog’s bed or on the chair we offer guests when they would like to sit down. Socks have never been meant to remain in the shoes they just came out of or to sit for a week on the cushion where their owner resides. No, socks are meant to be worn and then disposed of in the hamper where apparently little fairies take them to the laundry mat. This is the only proper way to handle one’s socks. 

The opposing view: Socks belong wherever they land, even if they happen to land two inches from the hamper…on the floor…every single time.

2.)    Dinner should be a meal. I swear if Boyfriend were president he would create a holiday specifically to celebrate the Subway Sandwich. Everyone around the globe would enjoy a Subway Sandwich every day, free of charge, and he would call it Boyfriend's Subway Sandwich Day. They’re cheap, within walking distance of our NYC apartment, and according to Boyfriend, a perfectly acceptable meal for dinner every evening. In the eyes of Boyfriend, Jared is King. 

The opposing view:  I prefer real food.

3.) Toilet paper – over or under? This has, by far, been the biggest war my bathroom has seen since the flour fight of 2010 (pictures at a later date). Boyfriend thinks the toilet paper roll should roll under. 

The opposing view: Obviously, it should roll over. This is how the Waldorf Astoria does it, thus this is how it should be done. You would not see me walking around on my hands claiming it’s appropriate, now would you? Things are meant to go right side up for a reason.

And finally, we’ve come to the one argument I refuse to let die. This has been the thorn in my relationship’s side since day one, even once sending us to a couple’s counseling session. It is the start to all our serious arguments, and it begins in the kitchen.

It is his turn to do the dishes. It is always his turn to do the dishes, because it is always my turn to cook the dinners. Don't get me wrong, occasionally Boyfriend will get a little frisky. I’ll come home and the dishes will be done, leaving me to give him nothing but a treat and kind pat on the tush. However, usually I become far too frustrated with the lack of forks in my utensil drawer before this happens, and I clean every dish by myself while listening to the sweet melodies of T-Pain. This is followed by a round of gloating as Boyfriend must then make it up to me in some way (this usually includes candy compensation). If only Boyfriend would just do the dishes there would be no need for all the arguing, and The Dish War would be over. However, I have too much pride and a fabulous manicure, thus I will never surrender.