Girly Bromance

My Bromance with my Brofriend

Honeymoon phase, transitional phase, real life phase. I mean, thus is the usual relationship trajectory, yes? Yesterday, my dude said this: “What if we are all doing it wrong? What if you get all of the hardships and arguments out of the way in the beginning? Then, you know, the difficulties fade and we always enjoy the honeymoon?”

Huh? This sounds crazy. So, you’re telling me that I should put up with unending arguments and travails because you think that we will be a delightful pair in the future? How can you sell me on our longevity? However, what if he’s on to something? He sort of tortures me with challenges, but every time we face failure, that moment does not repeat itself. In other words, it’s like we immediately learn from our angry moments. Maybe we can be on an endless honeymoon if he tests all of my quirks right now and aggressively.

 quirks: he’s almost a Never-Nude, but his torso is ridiculous and his lower half warrants no complaints. However, who wants to cuddle with cotton in lieu of the person? If he had PJ onesies he’d be happier than any clam. In the meantime, he covers his ridiculous physique with clothes. Always. So many garments. Next up: He thinks he’s a DJ. No, seriously, he wants to take over the bro bars on Friday nights. He drinks protein shakes and calls other people “bros.” His idea of small talk is EDM music and sports. His attire is straight out of Forever 21. While it’s cheap and essentially functional, the store’s name speaks oodles about the age of the clientele- unless you enjoy donning your child’s PJs (IE: Bethany Frankel). Should I introduce him to the family? Well, he has an unparalleled tongue, but I can’t tell that to my mama. He is 25, but I can’t tell that to the 27-year-olds whom I convinced they were too young. He is business smart, but socially? There’s a void.

I’m not foolproof either. I’m exceptionally selfish when the moment strikes, I expect exceptionalism via the mind, body and mind:). I look for faults rather than strengths. I’m never satisfied with myself or my partner. My body is no longer a supermodel’s temple. Instead, I’ve acquiesced the reliance on looks for the reliance on friendships.

Sorry, tangents ensue, but I think I’m trying to figure out whether I’m happy because we fight now, early on. Seriously, we’re only like a month into it, but I’ve tried to end it numerous times. Or, maybe we’re happy because he thinks we won’t fight later.

Experience leads me to believe that there will always be tumult. However, I’m inspired by moments of doubt, which may prove me wrong. Hence, the next post will cover Chicago’s local laundromat gossip. Yes, so much greatness arises from my bi-weekly .25 cent expenditures. Also, friendships and families are on display during these reflective hours. Stay tuned for the evolution of the family unit thanks to laundromats .

I’ve probably made a mistake, but I never learn from my mistakes so every choice is a new, poor decision. I’m pretty sure that I’ve repeated these errors, but I keep coming back. It’s official. This Sex, Love, Food, Chicago girl is monogamous. I’m not happy about it. I think I’m probably missing out on something. Or someone. Or some experience. Or some time frame. Or some greater understanding, but when a pretty man demands that I be solely his, I can’t deny him.

I love men. I love them as they flex their strength from behind. I love men as they move me across a bed, I love men as they adore my body. I love men as they respect my opinion. I love men as they furrow their brow because they’re learning. I love men.

For the rare occasions that I allow a man to enter my commitment, there is an innate need. However, I’ve let this guy in, but I don’t feel like before. I don’t need him. What’s interesting is that he may stick around because I won’t tire of his banality.

Somehow, it’s Thursday night and the masses are celebrating. Men clink their coozies to financial successes. Women gossip over manicures because of pregnancies or promotions. I don’t want either.

Is it that time of the decade when everyone finds their “partner”? Probably not. There’s few moments where everything and everyone comes together in honor of the inevitable loneliness.

I guess, there is regret for losing my single state, but not enough penance to truly understand falling asleep underneath down feathers alone. Every. Weekend.

That’s where I’m at. Where are you at?