I have been with my girlfriend for almost 2 years now. I know lots of couples keep track of various dates. The first date is a popular one. The joy of every woman and the bane of every man (guess who usually remembers and who gets dirty looks for the next week). I do as it happens remember that date...thanks to the magic of the calendar in my phone. Using the same trick, I also know when we first started "officially" dating. I don't need any tech or magic to remember when we moved in together. The move will forever haunt me. In other words, I own too much stuff. It's been about 3 months and I'm still not fully unpacked. I took a lesson from Calvin and Hobbes to "solve" that problem...stuff everything into a closet. Out of sight out of mind...
But I digress. As I was saying before the tangent, couples all have dates they remember. But I wonder how many, men in particular, can recall the exact date that they discovered they were in love. I know mine. It was labor day weekend. Saturday to be precise. I had the weekend off for the first time in almost 4 years and I wanted to spend it with my girlfriend. She said that every labor day weekend she volunteered at her mother's church by helping out in the kitchen. She had done this since she was 8 years old and it had become tradition. And thus the moment came. I had to decide if I was going to help or bail. She was going to be there the entire weekend and if I chose to accept my mission, I would be washing dishes for about 9 hours each day.
Let me just say at this point, I am not what you would call a "clean" person. My house doesn't look like a hoarder's house, nor does it smell like piss. But clutter tends to follow me everywhere. The prospect of washing dishes for 9 hours three days in a row (for free) is just about as appealing as sticking my balls in a microwave.
I think if you are reading this and have two brain cells to rub together, you know the choice I made. I realized that I would rather be elbow deep in marinara sauce and the remnants of uneaten food for hours on end. As long as I was with her.[Cue the sappy music]
But she did her best to keep my spirits up. By telling me how much she appreciated the help and giving me a hug or a kiss at every free moment.
Also, by feeding me all the jello shots and beer I could drink.
So, we are on our second labor day weekend. I am washing dishes again. She is helping with the cooking and cleaning. Apparently, you have to wash dishes for about 25 years before you can progress to cooking. I doubt I will put that many years in, but it all depends on where she is. Because that's were I'll be.
Weird Dreams and Shitty Jobs
4 years ago