It was just one of those weeks.
You know the kind. The kind of week where words are spoken. Tears are shed. Patience is tested. And overall, it just leaves you feeling drained. Yup, that was our week.
He texted me and asked if he could come over after work on Friday night so we could talk things over a bit more. I responded with an apathetic “I guess.” Like I said, that kind of week. Don’t hate. Anyone who has ever been in a relationship knows exactly what I mean.
He came over and we talked things through a bit, and then decided to close out the evening by grabbing pizza at one of our favorite local pizza joints. Afterall, there’s nothing that a large Harry’s special can’t fix, right?
Except that somewhere between the hours of 12-3AM my stomach did not agree. As a matter of fact, my stomach totally disagreed. With the theory and the pizza. So at 3AM I found myself knelt down before the porcelain throne. I’ll spare you the details on how it all went down but let’s just say that it was not pretty. I cried. Like a baby. Because the only thing I hate more in this world than throwing up is spiders. But in that moment I just may have preferred to see a tarantula crawl across my lap, because it was that bad. Every ingredients of that blasted pizza was now in front of me, and it definitely did not look as pretty as when I saw it 6 hours prior.
I texted him to let him know what had just happened. You know, so that maybe he would feel bad for me or something.
But he did more than just feel bad for me. He came over with saltines and Ginger Ale – the cure all for stomach sickness. And with my head on his lap we played Words with Friends and Boggle on our iPhones for three hours. Hardly any words were said, but none were needed. After that we cuddled and watched a few episodes of “The Office” because if there is one language we both speak fluently it is Michael Scott-ish (ha!). He held me tight and kissed me a few times even though I knew he was probably thinking “Dear Lord, pleeeeease don’t let me catch whatever disease she has” because he knew that is just what I needed.
And somehow, over saltines and Ginger Ale I realized that although life and love may not always be a walk in the park, at least we have each other. And Michael Scott-ish.