I used to write these "love stories"over on my other blog, we're just dandy. Today, I'm back with a new installment.
It's one of those blissful months where the boy works 8 to 5, has weekends off. The boy and the girl relish in sleeping in past 5:30 and eating long luxurious breakfasts together before they both depart for work. When the weekend comes, they spend as much time together as possible. This month, he's studying for Step 3, so the girl agrees to accompany him to their corner coffeeshop, where he studies intently.
As they get in the car (it's snowing, you see, in April -- she swears she's not bitter - so they choose to drive the eight blocks), he grabs her hand.
"I'm so glad I finally get the chance to talk to you," he says. "I've been dying to tell you something."
What could it be? she wonders. How much he's missed me? How beautiful all of his co-workers think I am? Maybe he's taking me on a surprise date!
"I've been dying to tell you about this perirectal abscess we popped at work the other day."
He begins to describe the needle that was injected into this man's -- his words -- "taint".
He's so excited, she thinks, And I should be supportive of his interests. But I honestly might barf.
Later that night, after three cups of coffee and two practice tests, he's sleeping soundly. She brushes her teeth, crawls into bed, and gives him a hug.
"You're so warm," she murmurs. He rolls over, mid-dream.
"THAT'S BECAUSE I'M THE ONLY ONE NOT HOOKED UP TO AN OXYGEN TANK LIKE THE REST OF THESE IDIOTS," he replies.
She doesn't ask questions.