Last night The Beau and I were moving boxes into our new apartment. Yep, this is the Big Announcement: we’re moving in together. How scandalous!
We were lugging all our worldly possessions up to our new third floor walk up, in the sweltering July heat and humidity. Wearing work out clothes and a sports bra, I was decidedly unsexy with my uniboob and sweat dripping off the tip of my nose. But after the last trip, that didn’t stop me from trying to be cute.
As we were walking around trying to figure out how to best arrange the furniture when it arrives on Saturday, I slipped my (horrifically sweaty) arms around his (equally sweaty) neck and said, “wouldn’t it be romantic for you to kiss me in our new bedroom?”
He gave me a very chaste pop kiss to the nose and disentangled himself from my (slippery) grasp and continue to survey the space.
While he was standing there looking at all the emptiness he goes, “Speaking of romance, my mom…”
At this very point in his sentence, I questioned everything I was doing with my life. Am I really moving in with a man who thinks of his mother when thinking of romance? Is it too soon to be making this commitment? Maybe I don’t know him well enough yet? WHY DID HE BRING UP HIS MOTHER WHEN I WAS TRYING TO BE ROMANTIC???
But then I tuned back in to his sentence, “…might be bringing you candles this weekend. I think. I’m not sure.”
Romance. Candles. Now I understand. It was just a half second of panic, but everything is going to be okay.