2 Legit 2 Quit

I hate spending the weekend with M3.

Hate it hate it hate it.

I hate waking up with him on Saturday and Sunday and Monday mornings and especially how half a second after he opens his eyes, he smiles at me and the corners of his mouth turn up more than they usually do even when he's just sitting around reading the Economist or something.

I hate how we always have lofty aspirations for weekend productivity and we make lists and say we're going to work out or go running and then we never end up doing much of anything but neither of us care really.

I hate how much he makes me laugh. And how his eyes crinkle and his nose totally changes shape when he laughs.

I hate how he almost never walks past, near or around me without kissing or otherwise touching me in some way. And sends me air kisses when he's out of reach. And not the gay kind where you kiss into your hand and then make-believe blow it across the room.

I hate how god damn cute he is when he gets impatient with me, like in the grocery store for example when I'm distracted by cheese.

I hate that we're super huge dorks when we're together. And we think its awesome.

I hate how much I like his sister.

I hate how my dog barfed twice on his carpet and in between the two unfortunate incidents also went pee on his bed but M3 still took pictures of her the next evening when she curled up and fell asleep on a mound of his clothing because even dogs get crushes too.

I hate when I'm trying to be a badass during a serious conversation about the state of our relationship and he says something that makes me giggle.

I hate how easy it always is when I'm with him. How easy its always been. How easy I think it always would be.

I hate all of it.

Because on Monday mornings, it all comes crashing down around me.

This morning particularly sucked.

Because I cried all over my boyfriend's water-resistent windbreaker pullover thing.