Did We Just Have Our First Fight?

August 23, 2013November 27, 2024 notsosexinthecity

So, you know I spent those two wonderful days with Jock? Our first two-day sleepover? [How to Make Her Love You in 69 Days & Maybe the Key to Great Sex Is…] Well, it was awesome and stuff, but there’s a part of it I haven’t told you about yet.

Technically, I think we had our first fight.

We were at the seaside, because you know how much this bitch loves the seaside. I was taking a photo of us, a cute one, and he ruined it by shoving his entire ice cream right into his mouth — and yeah, I got a *teensy bit* bit pissed off about it. It was petty and stupid and a proper crappy reason to have a little fight, but I stormed off a bit. Like a mini storm off. I took some photos as I huffed around by myself, sat and pondered life for a bit, and basically waited for him to come running after me. I knew he would, and he didn’t let me down. It didn’t take long, actually — and that’s all I wanted to know: that he would come running after me if I stormed off, upset.

He apologised, we went about the rest of our day, and it was all very lovely … until the next morning.

I looked at the photo again, played around with it a bit (filters and shit for the win), and turned it into something that actually looked pretty cute.

“Hey, babe, do you mind if I use this as our ‘big reveal’ image on Facebook? It’ll be the first time I’ll have acknowledged you on there so I want it to be a really good pic.”

And that’s when we had our SECOND fight.

I’m not really sure what we were arguing about. He seemed to take offence to me wanting to put a cute picture up of the two of us, but in a why-do-you-care-what-other-people-think kinda way. It kinda felt like he had a lot of different reasons for arguing with me about the picture, and all I wanted to do was test the waters with him; to see if he was in it — us — for the long haul. Because I was. I am. And I wanted to prove it by showing my family and friends my new man-friend.

“Why do you even care that they know about us, though?” he asked me. And the more he asked, the more I couldn’t answer the question. I didn’t really care what they thought, in all honesty. If I did care what they thought, I wouldn’t be dating him. I’m 27 years old (and I look young for my age, or so I’m told) and I’m dating a much older, greying man who could easily be my dad. Okay, so that’s a tad bitchy, but I only wanted to know if he was going to freak out if I started telling people about my new man, and I guess now I know the answer is: yes.

The mini fight actually upset me a lot more than I thought it would. I’m proud to call him my boyfriend, that’s all. I just want to tell people about this marvellous new man I’m dating; that I’m in love with. I might not have told him that yet, but I will tell him at some point. When the time is right. You know … after he says it first.

I put the photo of us on Facebook in the end, no fucks given. He’s special to me and I don’t care what people think.

After all, I love him.

(I should probably tell him that soon.)