Anyone who knows us would probably agree that he’s the sane one who keeps me grounded, while I’m the psycho who talks aimlessly with no filter. I blame it on the writer side of me. If I don’t say the things that immediately pop into my head, I’ll probably forget them (which he would argue I should forget). People have called us a weird couple. Read some of our weird conversations, and tell me what you think.
Dating for 7 months: He’s teaching me about UFC
Him: Because then he can’t defend himself, and he’ll probably get knocked out.
Me: Show me.
[He traps my body in full mount]
Him: See? The fighter underneath can’t defend himself now. The guy on top can keep punching him until he gets knocked out. Try to get out from this position. You’ll see how hard it is.
[I tickle his thighs and tummy]
Me: Goo Goo Goo Goo!
Him: No, that’s not going to work…
Me: Well what can a fighter do in this position then?
Him: He can grab his opponent and pull him down, so he can’t punch him anymore.
[I pull him close to hug him]
Me: Shhh… it’s okay. No more punching.
Him: Okay, we’re done here.
One year of dating: Lying in bed ready to fall asleep
Him: So I was talking to my mom today, and she has a bunch of clothes she bought but never wore.
Him: This is going to sound weird, but she told me to ask you if maybe you wanted them?
Me: What kind of clothes?
Him: I don’t know… dresses and stuff. They’re brand new. They still have the tags on them. Do you want them?
[I turn over, rest my head on his shoulder, and run my fingertips down his chest.]
Me: Has it always been your fantasy for me to wear your mom’s clothes to bed?
Him: Ew! What? No! What’s wrong with you!
Me: Well you’re asking me in bed if I want to wear your mom’s clothes! Aren’t you?
Me: If it’s always been one of your fantasies, just tell me –
Him: Stop talking.
Now engaged: Talking about sex
Me: Do you think we have good chemistry?
Him: I think we have excellent chemistry. Why?
Me: Do you like when I… you know what?
Him: Go ahead. Say the word you’re trying to say.
Me: Do you like my [blanks]?
[He scrunches his face]
Him: Actually, that word sounds too vulgar coming from you. Just call it head.
Me: Do you like my head?
[He kisses me on the forehead]
Him: Yes, baby. You have a beautiful head.
Still engaged: I’m in the kitchen chopping onions
[My eyes are tearing up from the onions]
Him: What’s wrong?
[Tears streaming, I’m pretending to sob like a baby]
Him: Baby, what happened?
[I run to the living room, sit down beside him, and still continue to fake sob]
[He wipes the tears from my face]
Him: Were you cutting onions again?
He knows me so well. I think we’re meant for each other.