Friday, July 16, 2004
over re-heated food
Tired today. Chips came from the gym and before that, a long day at work (something apparently stressful happened at the bank today, and I couldn't understand it - bank things are complicated). I, with an evil case of the sniffles, came fresh from a hard day at work, preparing for a major event and finishing up a major production. We were going to have a hopefully stress-free 10pm dinner.
I think he's finally gotten to accepting the fact that in Advertising, we don't control the our time. I envy that he gets off at 5:30 sharp. At that time, Creatives are lost without any word, leaving you to make excuses to Clients following up via email, mobile phone and Yahoo Messenger. Our industries are worlds apart. We've been together for 3 years and a half. I think he's taking that in. And I'm so thankful for the patience (and the existence of the gym). Alright, digressing. Back to the dinner.
Okay. So three years and a half right? We've been together all this time, and thoughts of ending up together (as in permanently) just shoot up my head every now and then... I don't know, maybe it's a girl thing. On this occasion, since we were engaged in such a domestic activity - re-heating food for dinner - I just blurted out a question: Hunny, do you think of what it would be like to live with me? (getting mushy, I know)
He took it from a work-schedule standpoint (and maybe because we were eating dinner): We'd probably not be eating dinner at the same time that often. Hmmm. Okay, I was hoping for something more skewed towards the idea of living... like with stuff and a house... and stuff.
He went on to say that he'll probably be the one cleaning our place up (he cleaned up my desk one time, and he was happy after). He said that I'll probably help a little, but then go sit around, go online, or watch TV. Then he'd ask me to help some more, and I'd allegedly help a little... and after a while go back to sitting around watching TV. Net, he'd end up doing most of the work.
I stare, flabberghasted. I must admit that I'm no home-body. But hmmm... this makes me think. I wail inside as I realize the shortcomings of myself. I can't cook - I make one helluva cup of coffee, but well, he doesn't drink coffee. Laundry? Good think there are laundromats (or Ariel, isang babad ka lang! <-- shameless plug). Man, this is bad. Officially un-domesticated.
He follows-up his prediction with something with a semblance of redemption: Yah, but that's just at the start hunny. I smile (too early). He takes it back with a sly one: because later on you'd get a maid and you'd really do nothing! He laughs. Kainis.
Dinner's done. He stands up to clean up the dishes. I begin to help by reaching for the glasses. He stops me short and grabs them from me. "It's okay hun, I'll do it." Okay, now this makes for a confused me. What were we talking about just a few seconds earlier? Right. "See, you never let me do anything."
Heading towards the sink with all the dishes, he simply says, "You're sick."
What did I do to deserve this guy. A wide smile spread across me. And I'm proud to say that I didn't forget our month-sary, unlike the last time.
dezphaire strapped in @ 11:25 PM
Sometimes bored. Most of the time oddly alive. Phobic of butterflies. Creatively suppressed. Hungry for coffee and shoes. This is my subconscious talking... at times interrupted by my reality.
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