The Non-Wife

Boyfriend and I are in the midst of a great stretch in our relationship. I feel like the blog shouldn't be all She-Hulk and death threats, but a place where I can give appreciation to Boyfriend for his goodness as well as for his ubiquitous list of shortcomings. I learned the word ubiquitous from one Mr. Bill Cosby. Is he still alive? I haven't seen a jello commercial with him in awhile. How is he faring? Googled it. He's living under an alias. His real name is William Henry Cosby Jr. That must be why so many other people think he's dead too. But he's not, and he's tired of the accusations. Allegedly.

I have to give a tip of the hat to Boyfriend for several reasons:

1) He bought me chocolate as if he knew the She-Hulk was having her lady time.
2) He made me tea when I was in the tub the other day, and I only had to demand it twice.
3) He vacuumed the apartment when Fat shred cardboard everywhere. No more cat fiestas at our place.
4) He was considerate enough to get drunk at a friend's place on Saturday night so Sunday morning I didn't have to watch football. That is, until Boyfriend realized what day it was and figuratively sodomized my Sunday morning when he came home. For the sake of the people that I know who read this I'm going to bold the word figuratively. That's a lesson you only learn thrice. Some people don't get metaphors or sarcasm and that's how rumours start and S&M freaks show up at your door. The good news about that instance was one of those fellas was selling Girl Scout cookies for his niece.
5) He lost his football picks (something about betting...?) and searched everywhere to find that piece of paper. This is happy news because it means I'm not the only loser in the house. I later found that paper in a sweater. See? Good things happen when I steal money from his pockets. Positive reinforcement on questionable behaviour? Check.
6) He didn't passive-aggressively point out that laundry needs to be done. Therefore, our dirty clothes runeth over. Literally. That pile has become a mountain that is subject to avalanches. I should put up signs for the snowboarders before they try to go down some of the runs. However, delightful news for me because I haven't done laundry in a week.
7) He's taking us to Vegas for Christmas.
8) This one is the most important of all: He bought me a typewriter. When the world ends and the power is out, I'll still be able to blog last-century style. I'll fashion the posts into paper airplanes and send them off the balcony to come find you. A story of the She-Hulk destroying Boyfriend will give you comfort at the end of the world. You're welcome.

Now, with all of this peace in the house of She-Hulk, I feel like this is a moment to decree a promotion. To myself. I will no longer be just a girlfriend, but will henceforth be referred to as the Non-Wife. Mostly because I'm not wifely and Non-Wife sounds like an awesome title to have. A Non-Wife would never be found barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. What's a kitchen? This prestigious position will not be taken lightly; I promise to uphold this made-up oath of the Non-Wife:

Never will I clean or cook. I do not own an apron, nor do I intend to. I'm not accountable, rational or fair. I will forever be frivolous, temperamental and ridiculous. A Non-Wife has the right to resist her nurturing, soft qualities and instead be a self-indulgent psycho.

Ah, yes. A period of ease in a relationship needs to be shaken up with a new title. And I got a raise. By raise I mean I've given up on stealing from his pockets and just go right for his wallet. I feel like this relationship promotion should come with a scepter or tiara. No wait. Neither. I want a giant gong. Nothing says relationship success like a giant gong.

Time for tea,

K