You know how girls always have that cutesy romantic fantasy of making out in the rain? Maybe of getting flowers delivered anonymously to her office? Or there’s the one where you get into a big screaming fight and then the girl says something controversial, and the guy yells can’t you see it’s because I love you? or something along those lines. I’m not sure what’s sexy or fantastical about a screaming match though, so that last one may just be my twisted mind.
Anyway, last night I decided that making out in the rain was certainly not cute enough. Or perhaps I figured it was TOO cute. See, I don’t really do cute/romantic/sweet. Yet, after a drunken night of two-stepping, cowboy hats and Bud (yuck – Bud sponsors the Stampede, it tastes like piss water to me) and after disrobing to hop in the shower with O/N, he pulls me outside for a little dance.
Side note: Yes. This really happened. To me. Yes I know, it’s wrong and cheesy and a little horrifying.
Remember though; I am naked. He is naked. It’s raining. We’re dancing. Obviously we ended up getting it on in the backyard with me bent over a flower pot.
So afterwards, after the shower, we’re laying in bed being idiots (we were trying to see who could make thier voice lower while saying “ohhhhh yeaaahh”, like in that commercial? He obviously won, being a boy and all but I think I put in a valiant effort), and he tells me he has a song for me. Keep in mind he is drunk here. He says: “AA [my initials] I think I love you, AA, I think I love you, dah dah dum dah” to which I giggled awkwardly and changed the subject.
What can I say. Dancing in the rain and confessions of love in a song, all in one night? Too much for a self-proclaimed cynic to handle.
Oh, and I just hope his neighbors don’t have telescopic-lensed cameras.