I haven't even started the post and you've already been lied to. Yes, this one here is dedicated to Erin, this is no lie. But this isn't going to be a lyric poem. That's what an ode is. If you didn't know that, I've just made you smarter. This is an educational place sometimes. If you would like to make this more of an ode in your head, pretend that it's being sung to you by a cartoon pig dressed like Shakespeare while he gently strums a mandolin. Everybody wins. Okay, it doesn't have to be a pig, but trust me, envisioning this pig will make this a heck of a lot more entertaining for everyone. Hey. I don't call your ideas stupid.
Even before I commence writing I know this will be a short post. But sometimes such is what happens. Not every story can be a harrowing tale of my life being shacked up with my dude (eloquent, yes?). I almost used the word epic instead of harrowing, but I feel epic has been overdone. Epic is finished kids, time to move on to something else. Seriously, keep it up and I'm starting an End Epic campaign, you'll see. Well you probably won't see, it'll likely end up just being me alone mumbling about its overuse while I'm all alone in my apartment. At least that woman in the mirror will support me. Okay, let's end this ramble, I've wasted enough space.
As we all know, I'm a dreamer in two ways: One, I like things that are whimsical and two, I dream about fanciful things every night without fail. And, is law in a live-in relationship, one is required to disclose any and all dreams to their significant other no matter how irrelevant or boring (the dreams, not the significant other). On one of the rare mornings where we both get to sleep in together I catch him within moments of waking to tell him about my dream. I went to a cupcake shop and bought six Tiffany's blue cupcakes with round black sprinkles for $110. Now you're probably thinking that dream me is a sucker for this, but if I won the eating contest and could fit a whole cupcake in my mouth I would have won $5000. Analyze that. My dream is somewhat irrelevant here, this post has to do with Boyfriend's dream.
After I share my nightly visions, Boyfriend shares his. It's not much of a story, more of a sentence.
I had a dream that you cheated on me with somebody you work with.
Huh.
Internally I'm saying, 'that's interesting, you don't know anyone I work with'. We all know that Huh is neither a confirmation or denial, but it takes me a little while to figure out that the right answer was something more like, 'Oh Boyfriend, we all know that's never going to happen'. The point is I eventually realized that he probably needed some kind of reassurance that no others are in the picture. I mean, if his subconscious is coming up with this, maybe on some level there's doubt. Yes, after my shower I will bolster confidence that he is my one and only.
Post-shower, I flop on our couch beside him.
Oh Boyfriend, about your dream. If it makes you feel better, the only person I would cheat on you with at work is Erin.
His brow creases, wondering where the hell this is going. Also Boyfriend's probably thinking I said Aaron, not Erin. It's hard to clarify this verbally, and for some reason I just keep talking.
But she's too young for me. Seriously, she is one lovely lady. If she were cloned in miniature size and sold in stores, she would put Barbie out of business because Erin's a better role model and she's also dynamite with a laser beam (Queen, anyone? Guaranteed to blow your mind? Yes? No? Yes?).
Eventually, Boyfriend gets that I'm kidding, not without making some sort of comment about she and I being lesbians. Well, what Boyfriend doesn't know is that I am sweet on Erin, but in a totally platonic way. Hope I'm not putting myself out there with that last sentence. I'm going to put my topic sentence here near the end: Ladies, clarify when you are talking to your fella. They're not always apt to pick up the difference between Erin and Aaron. They will also credit you with being "in like" with a girl once they figure out which Erin/Aaron you mean. Once your boyfriend calls you a lesbian, even in jest, it steers your relationship into a weird place.
Not sure how your imaginary Shakespearean pig with his mandolin fared with making this into an ode, but a tip of the cap to those of you that tried to make it work. Also, Boyfriend says this reads like I want a piece of Erin. Can't a girl be complimentary to another girl without the accusation? Sheesh...
Time for tea,
K
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