*This one’s a little long and if you really love me you’ll read the whole thing*
Chris and I have been together since February. Since a lot of our friends went home for the summer, we have to keep busy and try not to kill each other. So far, we’ve done a phenomenal job. We go to the movies, attend Yankees games, play connect 4 etc. However, the most exciting experience we’ve had so far (in my opinion) was when we went bowling. We pre-gamed, as you always should before doing something like bowling, brought some liquor with us in a black thermos and much to our delight, they served beer at the bowling alley by the pitcher.
I walked up to the front desk with false drunk confidence and asked for some bowling shoes. I felt bad for the two men working at the bowling alley on a Friday night and considered asking them to bowl with us, but decided against it since they had to keep an eye on the bowling shoes. Someone’s gotta do it. We walked to our bowling station and were ironically placed in between two large families. It was 10PM on a Friday, so we felt that our intoxication was valid and should’ve been foreseen by anyone and everyone in our path.
Chris and I began bowling and I started off strong and got some strikes. I might as well have been a middle aged man with a balding head and a beer belly judging by how well I was doing. But as I continued drinking, my strikes decreased in likelihood since we were bowling without bumpers, like real adults. I had forgotten how greasy bowling lanes can be and part of my clown shoe slipped at the beginning of the lane and my feet flew out from under me. Clearly, not my fault. Before I knew it, I was on the floor and chose to sit there helplessly until Chris stopped laughing to come pick me up. This took a while; Chris was laughing so hard, I thought he was going to have a hernia. The families on each side of us glared at me and no doubt expressed internal thanks that I was not their daughter. We continued to bowl in between spurts of drinking as my bowling skills, or lack thereof, continued to diminish.
Chris has a lot of amazing qualities. He’s smart, funny, has a beard etc. But he has the emotional intelligence of a chimpanzee. He is repulsed by emotions and believes everyone is simply too sensitive. He says he loves that I don’t “cry all the time.” It seems as though his real soul mate could be Hannibal Lector or any other notorious serial killer. If we ever break up, he’ll have a lot of trouble dating anyone else for the rest of his life. But at least I’ll be the best girlfriend he’ll ever have, which is always my primary goal. I aim to be everyone’s favorite person.
I stumbled up to the bowling lane and threw the ball. It went immediately into the gutter as if I had been aiming for it. I walked back to Chris, defeated, and after he stopped laughing, he said:
I love you.”
I was stunned. He had never said it before and for whatever reason he chose to say it in a bowling alley with strobe lights while we were both wearing shoes that would no doubt give us the bubonic plague. I didn’t know what to say. Of course I loved him, but it seemed to be taking my brain 8 years to process what he had said. I’m sure my facial expression looked as if he had told me he took a dump on the floor. So I didn’t say anything and we continued to bowl.
By the end of the game, my score was so low, you would’ve thought he had been playing a coma patient. So I can rule out professional bowling as far as careers go. Chris went to return his shoes while I was taking mine off and he called me to meet him outside. After returning the plague shoes, I met him in the parking lot and was pleasantly surprised when I saw that he had taken his plague shoes with him. I asked him why he took the bowling shoes, seeing to the fact that we didn’t make it a habit to bowl regularly. He said he didn’t know and that he just walked out with them. I love this about Chris. He does stupid things for no reason all the time and to me, it’s adorable and hilarious. Plus now he doesn’t have to pay for bowling shoes next time we bowl.
We sat down on a curb in the bowling alley parking lot as we waited for our Uber driver to take us home. I looked at him and said:
So you love me?”
Yeah.” he said, defeated by his own feelings.
I love you too.” I said.
He seemed excited and relieved as if I had told him he didn’t have to clean the dishes that night. We continued to talk about his new 5-finger-discount habit after stealing the bowling shoes. The Uber picked us up and we went home.
It was around 1am and I asked him if he wanted me to make cookies. He said yes (he never says no to food even if he’s not hungry, but honestly I’ve never viewed being hungry as a requirement before eating food). After proceeding to severely under-cook the cookies due to intoxication and my overpowering desire to just eat the dough without it being cooked, I went to my room to give Chris one. He wasn’t there, so I went upstairs to look for him. To my amusement, I found my 6 foot tall, drunken mess of a boyfriend laying on the floor with a toilet paper roll as his pillow. I sat down next to him eating a cookie and offered him one.
I don’t want it,” he mumbled.
But you asked me to make these. Asshole. Why are you on the floor?”
I don’t feel good,” he replied.
So I sat with him, getting cookie crumbs everywhere while he made a rather large dent with his head in my toilet paper. When he was done taking a nap on the floor, we went to bed and he reminded me that he loved me over and over and over again. And now he won’t leave me alone: