Brotherly Bliss

We finally moved past the “your house or mine” stage where you’re just deciding where to spend the night, and we actually spent time together outside of the bedroom.

Sunday morning we slept in, had some obligatory sex, and made our way to brunch. We of course noted that this was the first meal he wasn’t serving me, but rather eating with me. It felt surprisingly natural, but I did mention I wanted potato salad a couple times and lemon with my diet coke. Hm, perhaps one of these days I’ll have him wear his waiter uniform and I’ll boss around my lil’ server.

We proceeded to spend all of Sunday and Monday together; he drove me to work this morning. He’s now officially my boyfriend, and I couldn’t be happier. He let’s me burp and fart as much as I want, and he also, turns the volume up on the TV when I’m going to take a shit. What a sweetheart!!! Yup, despite my serious gaseousness, his feelings for me have NOT waned! Brilliant.

I love waking up next to his warm body and swiftly attaching myself to his side. He attempts to touch me back, but he’s always more asleep than me, and I don’t care. He has these itty bitty curly eyelashes that make this 36 year old man look like a little boy under his covers. He wakes up with a smile on his face, and I like to think that he sleeps with it too.

My happiness with him is getting harder to suppress, so any ideas about sabotage are promptly being foiled.

People always say that when you meet the right person things just seem to fall into place. I already can’t imagine what we’d fight about, ever, and usually in the first three weeks I’m on my tenth fight with a boy. He doesn’t drive stick shift and instead of deciding that was a “deal breaker,” I’m okay with it. I’d also say, “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t like to eat apples,” but again, I’m okay with it. Those little things just don’t get on my nerves. Maybe all this time, it was never the automatic car a guy drove or the fruit he didn’t eat, maybe it was just some sixth sense telling me that the best was yet to come.

And yeah, I could totally be getting ahead of myself with this boy. And yeah, next week I could be blogging about what dickhead he is and how I want to smash all his bass guitars and give him some STD… but for now, I’m digging him. It’s just “working.”