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HELLO I'M MISS CLUELESS|WELCOME TO MY PERSONAL BLOG|I LOVE TO DO CREATIVE THINGS|I'M A PROFESSIONALPROCRASTINATOR

A page.... From her life with him...

Love is when she's super cranky because she's on her period, and is sitting on the bed when he gets home from work and even though she's so relieved to see him, she scowls at him and complains about her belly hurting. She doesn't cuddle him when he sits on the edge of the bed, even though all she really wants to do is crawl inside him and wear his skin as a coat because love is gross and creepy like that. She has her period and her tummy hurts and she loves him so much that she wants to slap him in the face.

She’ll grunt at him instead of answering his questions and she’ll be relieved when he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him, because she loves him so much, and he should never have to be around her when she's like this. When she's like this she should be shackled to a wall and fed gruel that’s been slopped on the ground in front of her, and her hands should be tied behind her back so that she has to lap it up from the dirty floor with her tongue.

Love is when he comes back, 15 minutes later, and he's been down to the general and bought her favourite biscuits, the ones with the chocolate on one side, even though it’s cold. The way he comes back to her, with the packet of biscuits in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, the way he comes so silently and puts these things next to her, the way he walks across the room without even displacing the air he's moving through, makes her ashamed that he has to love someone who is such a horrible little troll.

But still, she loves him so much she is too embarrassed to apologise, and she continues to sit there with her arms crossed and her bottom lip out. She won’t even turn her head to face him, but she can see the biscuits laying on the bed in between them, as he takes up his position next to her, leaning against the brick wall because she's got all the pillows and is too stubborn and surly to move. She loves him more as they sit there, her obstinate as hell and him so calm, a ringmaster waltzing boldly into a lion’s den.

And then without warning, her eyes lap with waves and she's ready to look at him and say, “I’m sorry for being such a brat, it’s just that I feel so horrible, and I hate it here sometimes, in this tiny apartment. I hate that my tummy hurts, I hate everything as much as I love you!”

So he squeezes her hand and says, “I know, we can just watch that reality show. I’ll bitch about all the contestants with you and I will pretend to care!” She starts crying because he is the best, and she tells him that she didn’t mean it, that she loves their tiny apartment, “I love it here, I love it here with you and did I mention that I love you?” He says, “we’re going to miss the start of the program” as he smiles at her.

They watch the reality show and he has an opinion on everything, and they complain about all the contestants like they’re friends they dislike and they’re driving back from a dinner party that they just had with them, and they eat the whole packet of biscuits and drink tea until her tummy doesn’t hurt anymore and they’re holding hands.

Before they go to bed he lies face down on his tummy with his shirt off and she on his back like every night, and they talk about their day at work. So, love is when they eventually lay together in the darkness, and have their ten minutes of cuddles, then both roll to their own side of the bed because neither of them can sleep while cuddling unless they’re drunk or sad and right now they were sober and happy. He puts his big toe against hers under the sheets and they fall asleep just like this; far enough apart to fall into dreams, but pressing together regardless.

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