I just adore my boyfriend J. He's kind and caring and supportive and totally AWESOME. He didn't even make fun of me last Sunday evening when I tearfully recounted the Tale of the Wide-Eyed Boy at the Theater, a young lad of about twelve or thirteen who was completely excited about meeting the cast of Beauty and the Beast, and whom I looked at and felt my heart swell, for surely this child was special and kind and was probably picked on mercilessly at school. And I cried for this boy on Sunday night, like some sort of PMSing psycho hose beast. But J just nodded and listened and understood, and promised that our future son would never be bullied, even if he ended up taking ballet lessons or being completely into musical theater. You see? He humors me and makes me feel better. And he brings me flowers for no reason. And he cleans my apartment. And he doesn't yell when I break or spill things. I really couldn't ask for more.
So J and I always talk about THE FUTURE. In THE FUTURE we will live together, and get married, and have completely successful careers, and then we will have babies and drive minivans and be infinitely happy forever and ever and dance on our piles of money. Not even necessarily in that order (kidding, Mom!). We're not in a real rush, even though someone (friends, family, coworkers) inquires at least once a day if I am engaged? Or when do I think I'll be engaged? And it will be before Christmas, right? And when do I expect we'll start trying to have HomeValley and J juniors???
To sum up, I love J. And relax, everyone. It will happen. In THE FUTURE. Though I dare say, I think my darling sweetest sweetheart does have some causes for concern about the Imminent Move In Date to be Discussed in Another Post, most of which were brought to light this evening in a forty-minute telephone conversation:
Me: I haven't been feeling that great this week.
J: Oh no? Should I pretend I am you for a second? [Mimics HV voice]: That's it! We are making you a doctor's appointment this instant! Those symptoms are not normal!
Conclusions: I am a hypochondriac.
Me: I actually ate too much yesterday, alone in my hotel room with the minibar.
J: Oh man, you are totally going to be one of those wives who sits around all day and eats bon-bons [laughs].
Me: [seethes because I hate that stereotype that seemingly has no basis in reality] Of course, but when you get home from a long day at the office, I'll make sure I have your ice cold beer ready, and dinner on the table. No - we'll actually eat dinner in front of the television and only grunt at each other.
J: Yeah, well, we'll have to regulate the bad TV you watch.
Conclusions: I am extremely lazy. And watch too much Bridezillas and What Not to Wear.
J: Aw, babe, I do want to take care of you for the rest of my life, and it's great that we can split the tasks, you know? Well, except the sewing. And the ironing. And the... [trails off].
Conclusions: Should you think otherwise, he is busy listing skills I have never acquired.
Perhaps J should do some sort of Pro/Con list before making the leap? I advised him to sleep on it, and give me an answer in the morning.
P.S. The only I thing I do before 8 AM is obsessively edit blog entries and post them, or perhaps run. I may also answer a call from J, but then I truly only grunt at him. But I will not - no, cannot -answer calls from coworkers pre-shower. Why are they blowing up my phone?