What lovers do

"Is that you?" I ask, as my eyes hover lazily at some small framed picture on the bedside table. 

Yes babe, I was cute wasn't I? He responds and turns over to bury his face in my shoulders. 

"Ah you were, but what happened hun?"

He now wakes up to tickle me hard, and for he knows my weak spots I have to retract those bad things I spoke to him. 

"Sorry hun, I've stopped. You're drop dead gorgeous even now, why else would I voluntarily chose to wake up next to you all these times?

But if I may ask, how much do you remember about your childhood, how was it like?" 

He sits, leaning on the piles of pillows and begins telling me the story of his life. This goes on for the better part of our Sunday morning, and I tell him about mine too. This happens all the time, the vulnerable, heartfelt pillow talks in the morning that keep me hooked for how vivid and dramatic of a storyteller he is. He's such a mood for days I swear. 

My humor needs have such precedence in my life that it is inconceivable to tolerate someone who is not witty and playful, at least not long enough. My obsession with this single trait has landed me not the most suitable suitors in the past actually. I was raised by a very funny and sarcastic dad and probably I seek him in these people. But I chose to die on this hill over and over regardless. Should a drab partner be the only way to true and lasting love, please, I'll take all my heart breaks gladly and a bag of tissues. 

We're going out today evening for dinner at a new restaurant that I randomly picked. The dim yellow lights hanging create a very relaxed ambiance and flatter my minute peach falter dress. He's a little discontent that I donned an ankle length trench coat because he wanted my compass legs in full view of his wide pretty eyes. "Naah. Not today hun, it's a little too chilly outside for my svelte body, don't be too greedy." He digresses. 

We find a good spot at a corner, enclosed by tall leafy plants that give us a sense of privacy and let me tell you my thoughts are already deep in the gutter. He goes ahead to draw my chair out like the only man in our era fighting to keep chivalry alive. I move in to sit while smiling ear to ear and feeling like a tall princess when I hear a slap on my bottom. "Hahaa, you naughty naughty boy!" I titter, and poke his belly. 

I have a very lousy habit of ordering the same same meal every time I go out. I'm picky with food and hesitant to try new menus only to end up not eating it at all, so often times I stick with my all time favorite, hen. Today I order lamb chops though, because I ate it recently at Baobox and it's now my latest fave. I have been crying to my friends that we go back there again for another day of cards and board games for now I crave it almost every other day. 

The meal is served and the first impression flusters me. "Don't be judgy you woman, take a bite first." OK, I'll start with the coconut rice, it's chewy. I don't like hard food. My appetite sinks a tad bit. Maybe the meat is the catch. No, it's tasteless. My goodness why did I bring us here? I am hungry but this food will not go past my epiglottis. The plates are pretty though. We should have ordered 10 milkshakes instead. 

Thwarted, I step out to go to the washroom after having two cold shakes. My reflection on the mirrors is too sexy to be left uncaptured but I left my phone behind urgh. On coming back my boo is on the phone, scrolling on what looks like Instagram. I snap my fingers twice. "Dude you are on Instagram? For real?" He adamantly had told me he wasn't and I even asked twice because it sounded eerie to me then. "I'm sorry babe. I don't know what I was thinking when I said that." 

He actually has a stern face on, the same face he had when telling me he's not an IG person, that he outgrew it. "I mean I was joking coz is it not obvious everyone is on IG?" I'm staring at him, dumbfounded. "Honestly though when you asked I couldn't trust you and was unsure about us that's why, but I'm sorry." 

I wanna huff, puff and blow this man away like chaff, him and his jokes. You can trust me with your house keys, your family secrets but social media is where we draw the frigging line? After all this time? OK, boo. 

I hate to admit that for a moment there I thought I had his missing rib. This has always felt so good and easy and right. But like I said my boo has got to be hilarious and trust me (unlike him) he joked too much he might have cracked this one.