Your best friend’s boyfriend is knocking on the door. Open it up and he’ll tell you he’s your boyfriend now.
“Okay!” you say. You wrap your arms around him and give him a big kiss. Your first as a couple. “We don’t kiss now,” he says. “Newhart’s on.”
You hand him the remote and you order burritos. “We don’t eat burritos on Tuesdays,” he says. “Tuesday is sandwiches night.”
You throw away the burritos and you and he make some sandwiches. Then you turn off the TV and start having sex.
“We don’t have sex like this,” he says, pulling off your mask. “We have missionary position vagina sex.”
You change-up and it is magical. When you finish, you get up and go look for some marijuana.
“We don’t smoke weed after,” he says. “I lay here and you turn your back to me and cry.”
You’re starting to get the sense that he’s a little set in his ways. “I don’t want to cry,” you say.
“This doesn’t feel right,” he says. “But, when in Rome.”
You both get high, but he doesn’t loosen up. You invite him to take a shower with you, where you start scrubbing his front, but he doesn’t do anything to you.
“We don’t scrub each other’s fronts first,” he says. “I wash your ass for around eighteen minutes and then the water gets cold.”
He washes your ass for only twelve minutes before the water turns freezing.
“This is all wrong!” he shouts as he hops out of the shower hunting for a towel, which isn’t kept where he thinks it should be. Then he complains that the temperature in the apartment is maintained at a lower grade than it should be, and the light bulbs in the fixtures are 60 watt when they should be 75. When he looks in the fridge and finds no string cheese or celery sticks, he tries to pick up the refrigerator and throw it out the window, but he can’t.
“I think you might need a little more time to get over your old girlfriend,” you say. “She’s my best friend and she’s really great. I can understand why you’re having trouble adjusting to her being gone.”
“But I’m your boyfriend,” he says. “You’re just doing everything wrong.”
“I’ve probably already lost my best friend, and it’s just not worth it to trade a wonderful friendship for someone who’s just going to follow me around telling me everything’s wrong,” you say. “Seriously, go back to my best friend, or go home and be alone for a while.”
He shakes his head. “No. I’ll get used to you doing everything incorrectly. Really. Pretty soon, the way you do everything wrong will be the right way to do everything, and by the time I leave you I’ll be pissed off at the way the next girl does stuff because it isn’t the way you did it.”
You can’t help it. You like the thought of some girl two years from now having to put up with hearing how she’s all wrong because she’s not you. You decide it’s worth it. You take a seat on the couch and pull a pillow over your lap.
“You don’t hold pillows,” he says.
“Deal with it,” you say.
The phone rings. It’s your best friend. When you answer, she hangs up.
Happy Your Best Friend’s Boyfriend Is Your Boyfriend Now Day!
“Okay!” you say. You wrap your arms around him and give him a big kiss. Your first as a couple. “We don’t kiss now,” he says. “Newhart’s on.”
You hand him the remote and you order burritos. “We don’t eat burritos on Tuesdays,” he says. “Tuesday is sandwiches night.”
You throw away the burritos and you and he make some sandwiches. Then you turn off the TV and start having sex.
“We don’t have sex like this,” he says, pulling off your mask. “We have missionary position vagina sex.”
You change-up and it is magical. When you finish, you get up and go look for some marijuana.
“We don’t smoke weed after,” he says. “I lay here and you turn your back to me and cry.”
You’re starting to get the sense that he’s a little set in his ways. “I don’t want to cry,” you say.
“This doesn’t feel right,” he says. “But, when in Rome.”
You both get high, but he doesn’t loosen up. You invite him to take a shower with you, where you start scrubbing his front, but he doesn’t do anything to you.
“We don’t scrub each other’s fronts first,” he says. “I wash your ass for around eighteen minutes and then the water gets cold.”
He washes your ass for only twelve minutes before the water turns freezing.
“This is all wrong!” he shouts as he hops out of the shower hunting for a towel, which isn’t kept where he thinks it should be. Then he complains that the temperature in the apartment is maintained at a lower grade than it should be, and the light bulbs in the fixtures are 60 watt when they should be 75. When he looks in the fridge and finds no string cheese or celery sticks, he tries to pick up the refrigerator and throw it out the window, but he can’t.
“I think you might need a little more time to get over your old girlfriend,” you say. “She’s my best friend and she’s really great. I can understand why you’re having trouble adjusting to her being gone.”
“But I’m your boyfriend,” he says. “You’re just doing everything wrong.”
“I’ve probably already lost my best friend, and it’s just not worth it to trade a wonderful friendship for someone who’s just going to follow me around telling me everything’s wrong,” you say. “Seriously, go back to my best friend, or go home and be alone for a while.”
He shakes his head. “No. I’ll get used to you doing everything incorrectly. Really. Pretty soon, the way you do everything wrong will be the right way to do everything, and by the time I leave you I’ll be pissed off at the way the next girl does stuff because it isn’t the way you did it.”
You can’t help it. You like the thought of some girl two years from now having to put up with hearing how she’s all wrong because she’s not you. You decide it’s worth it. You take a seat on the couch and pull a pillow over your lap.
“You don’t hold pillows,” he says.
“Deal with it,” you say.
The phone rings. It’s your best friend. When you answer, she hangs up.
Happy Your Best Friend’s Boyfriend Is Your Boyfriend Now Day!
