I’m Keeping Him
The other evening, the BF (who will now be referred to as BFD) asked me what I was doing. I mentioned that I wanted to get a little organizing done. He happened to walk in as I was pulling old clothes out of my closet. Looking over my shoulder, he spotted *one* of my lotion stashes.
“What is THAT?”
“Um… lotion.”
“Oh my gosh! How many do you have there?”
“Um, I don’t know.” (45. Of course I know. I just counted them all a few weeks ago.)
“Give me the box.”
“NO!”
“Give me the box.”
“Why???”
He reached across me and took the box from the closet. “Kristie, this is disgusting… this one is brown.”
“No… lotion doesn’t go bad..”
“And this one is SOLID. This one here is separated.”
“No, I’m sure they’re fine….”
“Where’s a trash bag?”
“ACK! NO!”
Ten minutes later he returned from the grocery store with a box of trash bags. I have to tell you, I was pretty close to a full-blown anxiety attack. This is a new stage for our relationship; the Oh-My-Gosh-He’s-Going-To-See-What-A-Filthy-Pack-Rat-I-Am phase. Not to mention I was sure I was about to witness the This-Is-The-Way-I-Said-It-Will-Be phase that men usually display…
… but he didn’t. He threw out all of the ones that *really* needed to be thrown out, but everything else he passed in front of me for my veto. I was surprised by how considerate he was… and mortified about how much wasted space I had once we cleared out everything that was moldy, mildewed, expired, or buried in dust bunnies. I kept apologizing over how long it was taking, and how bored he must be, but he never complained. He also never made fun of me or made me feel bad about it, either.
Three hours later, we were done. Four trash bags of garbage. Two bags and one box of clothing.
From my BATHROOM.
I was sure that when he left, I’d never see him again; but he came back. As we looked around, he smiled, “Next time we’ll do your office.”
Either he’s truly demented, or he really loves me. Probably both.
May 14th, 2009 at 12:03 pm
It puts the lotion in the basket.