It all started with the sound of flapping wings above my grown boyfriend's futon in his parent's basement (his bedroom.)
"What is that?" I ask, astonished. It is 9am in the morning
and I grab my 25-year-old boyfriend's arm. This scrawny white, nearly hairless
arm across my chest is supposed to save me from whatever bird or bat I think is
about to fall on us and claw my eyes out.
"It's just a rat in the ceiling, relax," my boyfriend says and
goes back to sleep. Because the phrase it's just a rat in the ceiling,
relax always calms us ladies down. Every time, guys. Remember that.
I then spent the next hour listening to the same flapping sound, convinced
that it was a rat with wings (so a bat, I was right) that would fall
through the ceiling and bite me, trying to eat its way through my skin (thanks,
episode of Game of Thrones!)
Then, the sound stopped. And I got suspicious.
Or maybe it started when my boyfriend took me back to his (parent's) place
the night before, and his roommate (friend who's fiancé's parents kicked him
out for being a slob) was already asleep. And the smell of half-grown men after
a full day of work hit me stronger than it ever did before. Sure, I always knew
not to go nose-first towards my boyfriend's balls after he was working, but the
tiny basement room had the strong scent of two men's smelly balls all over the
Since we couldn't wake the new roommate who was sleeping on the floor
directly by the futon, my boyfriend went on the internet and I read a book,
completely ignoring each other until 2:38am, when I read 58 pages and decided
to go to sleep. And my boyfriend stayed up on the computer instead of
joining me. Because we are romantic.
When the cock-blocking roomie left for work in the morning, we put Netflix
on and I watched Spanglish because I have a weird thing for Adam
Sandler. I don't even like most of his characters, or his singing on old SNLs.
His character usually isn't my favorite character in a movie, except for Spanglish,
but I have a weird thing for Adam Sandler, and when I have a weird thing
for a particular actor, naturally I want to share this with my boyfriend
and make him watch a movie with this guy and spend the whole time
comparing my boyfriend to the actor. Because I respect my boyfriend's
self-esteem and feelings.
And it all really started because I am a morning person. I like to
brush my teeth, get dressed, and finish a whole day's worth of tasks in the
first couple of hours in a day.
And because my boyfriend's basement-room doesn't have a door, and his
parents decided Hey, do you know what we should do while our son has his
22-year-old girlfriend here? We should clean the room directly by his bedroom.
I mean, have you looked at our son? It's not like he has any game anyway.
So, while I want to go to the basement bathroom unseen to get ready for the
day, his parents are discussing the cleaning outside my boyfriend's nonexistent
"I need to get ready for the day," I whisper to my boyfriend,
hoping he knows the magic words that will make his parents suddenly realize
they need to go upstairs and clean their own room.
"I know," my boyfriend said as he reached over, grabbed my hand
affectionately in understanding, and puts my hand on his balls. So we resume
watching Spanglish while I squeeze his balls and his parents are
cleaning his storage room, basically connected to his room. The room where I
was squeezing his balls while watching Spanglish.
Eventually, I HAVE to get ready for the day. So I walk to the bathroom,
first having to pass both of his parents while wearing my Hello Kitty jammies
and carrying my overnight plastic bag.
After removing the used pad from yesterday’s underwear and
stuffing those period panties in my plastic grocery bag (so, to be fair to his parents, my boyfriend wasn't going to get any action anyway), I realized that the trashcan is
OUTSIDE the bathroom. Because boys are gross and apparently don’t need
trashcans in their bathrooms. And apparently because even though each time
before I spend the night I ask my boyfriend to put a trashcan in the bathroom,
he never gets around to it.
So I walk out of his basement bathroom, where his parents could see me,
holding a rolled-up pad in one hand, in my fancier, Hello Kitty-less daytime
clothes, and toss it in the garbage right outside the storage room his parents
Now, I am typing this while watching inappropriate comedy specials on
Netflix as my boyfriend and his dad play ping-pong in the now-clean storage