Last night I met three girlfriends for happy hour. I am not, have not been, and will not be a particularly girly-girl. I am definitely not the type to get giggly and titter-y over a boy (particularly not the one I’m dating now, together we are about as boring as shopping for lumber, something we discuss from time to time).
Oh my goodness, these girls were giggling and tittering and just all a-flutter. They’ve all stumbled upon new relationships in the past two to two and a half weeks (yes, they know the exact date these relationships began!).
There was some complaining about how hard it is to sleep normally with someone else in the bed. I a) can sleep anywhere, b) would rather sleep with the Boy than without him, and c) am completely comfortable sitting up reading or taking myself to couch if for some reason I’m not sleeping well in the bed with him. My suggestion of taking a book was met with utter horror. What will he think?
Um, I don’t know; that you’re literate? The horror!
Then we got to analyze every phone call that had occurred in the past two weeks. There were some terribly cutesy stories. They were certainly a great deal cuter than my phone call with my beloved that day, which sort of went “Did you make an appointment to sign the lease yet? Why the hell not?”
Remember the Smug Marrieds in Bridget Jones (who sadly don’t have a Wikipedia entry)? I felt like one of those.
I have no giggly, sparkly new relationship.
There aren’t so many dates and new outfits and dressing up. Instead it’s just, “It’s so good to see you” in jeans and a t-shirt at the end of a long day.
There are fewer opportunities for nice surprises. Instead, it’s the comfort of knowing exactly what to expect and knowing I’ll like it.
I’ll take it.
My suggestion of taking a book was met with utter horror. What will he think?
Oh for PETE’S sake. This reminds me of one time when someone came into my apartment once and said, “Oh wow. Have you read all these books?” I don’t like people who don’t read. I am totally okay with being an insufferable snob. At least I don’t have to suffer with idiots.
Yes, it’s fun to be all a-twitter occasionally, but you’ve got the better deal.
this weekend i was told that there is nothing sexier than a naked woman reading a book. i like to think a beautiful mind beats a beautiful body.
I was trying to remember back to when I met the architect (after reading him your entry), and I remember being slightly giddy, but I don’t remember being a giggly mess…and I know I would never be horrified at the idea of reading in bed
books are sexy….