Honey, I’m Going To Kill You

The number one question I’ve been asked lately is, “How are you liking your new place?” or some variant of it. Really, what I am being asked is, “Are you ready to kill your boyfriend yet?” since I just moved in with him at the beginning of last month.

That question is understandable, since if you’ve spent any length of time with us, we might have slipped up and said to one another, “I am going to kill you,” while in your presence. If that is the case, let me explain.

I don’t know who started it, but it’s really an endearing expression of affection between us. If we start to drive each other nuts we say, “I’m going to kill you. No really. I. Am. Going to kill you.” Sometimes we accompany that with graphic details about how, when, and with what. Other times this will be punctuated with noises like “AAHHHRRGG!!”.

I’m sure that’s this is inappropriate. A couples counselor, if we saw one, would shake their head and put little notes in their pad. They may tisk and ask us, “How do you feel when she says she’s going to kill you?”

“With a super sheep,” I add helpfully.

“With a super sheep-”

“-from the game Worms,” I add to make sure she has the proper context.

“From the game Worms-”

“You know, that will probably just end up killing both of us, and maybe even the cat,” I muse out loud.


“I feel… frustrated,” admits the boyfriend, “It’s so easy to blow up yourself in Worms. The more fun the weapons, the easier it is to destroy yourself. It’s confusing. I don’t know if the point of the game is to actually win or just blow everything up. You know, either way I also feel like it’s kind of fun. So to answer your question, it feels frustrating, and confusing, but also fun.”

I squeeze his hand because I know exactly what he means, “We can play a different game if that makes you feel better, sweetie. We don’t have to play Worms.”

Our couples counselor, who we don’t actually have, scribbles down some more notes. I imagine it would have in all capital letters, with a lot of punctuation, a circle, and a underline. It is probably the word worms. I’m going to assume that is because she hasn’t played the game and is going to download it when she gets home, but I might be wrong.

On the bright side, neither of us ever make good on our threat. I feel like it makes me feel better to say it, and it makes me feel better to laugh in his face when he says it.

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Hee hee hee.”

“No really.”

“Aw, you’re so cute when you’re homicidal. Let me pinch your cheek!”

But really though, if he doesn’t clean whatever crap he spilled all over our stove I’m going to kill him. I don’t even know what it is. It’s yellow. What could he possibly been cooking that is yellow. It’s kind of gelatinous in some spots and crispy in others. So I asked him what in the name of names he spilled all over our stove that was freaking me out so much,

“Yeah. I don’t know what that is.”

“There’s a lot of it.”

“Yeah, hun. I don’t know.”

“You must have done it last night. But what is it?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t look like anything I cooked. I don’t remember spilling anything.”

When I lived by myself I was annoyed enough about cleaning up after a cat. Now I have a big hamster with opposable thumbs to look after too. No, he doesn’t chew the sides of his house or anything like that. I don’t know why I’m calling him a hamster exactly. I just wanted to call him a pet of some kind. Otherwise I’d have to call him a child, and I don’t need a child that’s almost thirty. Then again, I don’t need a really tall hamster either.

He’d say something like, well at least this hamster can cook (if he’d ever play along and call himself a hamster).

And well, I like his cooking. However, cooking is fun. Scraping a yellow entity off of our stove isn’t. If I cooked, this inter dimensional being now attached to our stove would never have been called into existence. I am very good at both cooking and not summoning disgusting other-worldly beings that adhere to kitchen appliances. I’m convinced that when the boyfriend cooks, he opens a series of portals, and instead of being useful portals that allow him to reach across the kitchen while still standing at the stove, they are portals to other planes of existence which allow things like whirlwinds from the Elemental Planes of Air to come swirling into the kitchen and take everything out of all the cabinets and scatter them all over the counters. Air Elementals are notoriously messy eaters and will also taste everything and leave tiny bits of it all over the floor, counters, and stove.

I don’t think the yellow thing on our stove was from the Elemental Planes. I think we need to look in H. P. Lovecraft books for this one folks. This worries me because I have enough to deal with without Cthulhu running around our apartment fighting with the already present Air Elementals.

Did I just hear the yellow thing on the stove mutter Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn? I swear I did.

I mean, if someone said, “Hey, I’ll do all the cleaning if you do the cooking,” I’d say yes too. That sounds amazing. I’d be the next Master Chef. I’d cook even when I didn’t want anything.

On a serious note, I’m not saying that the boyfriend is a slob who sits around who does nothing. He does a lot. I know not everything is going to be a 50/50 split. It’s impossible, and we shouldn’t be keeping score anyways. But if I clean everything else, I do want to be able to say, “Hey, I did everything else in the apartment- can you clean the kitchen floor please?” and have him say, “Of course! After you slayed that ochre jelly monster (turns out it was a Dungeons and Dragons monster, not Lovecraft) and saved me, I am eternally in your debt. It is the least I can do. Let me also make you a mojito.”

He does make me mojitos, but so far the asking for help has been met with mixed results. I understand that Skyrim has been enslaving a lot of the geek race recently. However, what about my video game needs? If I’m spending all this time slaying real life ochre jellies who want to be the next Master Chef, when do I get time to decompress and play the new officially released Minecraft?

I’m also not asking for the privilege of redoing tasks later. “You want your floor clean? Here. I dumped some water on it. The cat even helped me. You know how he loves to knock over his water bowl. Problem solved!”

Maybe my cat isn’t being a jerk. Maybe he is trying to help me clean the floor. He has no thumbs. That’s so sad. I just realized this whole time I’ve been yelling at my poor cat who has a no thumb disability but still insists on trying to help me with chores. I’m a terrible person. My cat is the Tiny Tim of cats.

I also don’t want to hear, “I got the worst of it” meaning that all the dirt was swept under the rugs. We don’t have rugs, but I’m just thinking of those cartoons where people sweep all the dirt under the rug. Don’t they realize that they’re putting as much effort into carefully sweeping under a rug as they would to sweep it into a dustpan and empty it into the trash? This is doubly bad since we don’t own rugs. Imaginary rugs don’t conceal dirt at all.

I’m not asking for perfection. Depending on who you ask, I am either a neat freak or a slob, so taking an average, I think I’m moderately reasonable about how I want the living space. The boyfriend, however, has a sight disorder when it comes to whether something is clean or not. He doesn’t notice. He cares and knows how to clean. He just doesn’t know how to tell when it’s time to clean. I can help here. Honey, it’s dirty. YOUR WELCOME. And if you don’t help me, I’m going to kill you.

A Creep?

Every now and then when I need a break from work, but still want to feel productive, I do things like clean up my desktop icons or go through and organize my bookmarks. Tonight I was going through bookmarks and I came across the link for an ex’s blog. I forgot I had it. Funny thing is, for the most part, I wrote in my blog extensively while we were together. He didn’t post anything in that time period it looks like.

Mostly his blog is about pickup and self improvement (which I guess for someone in PUA they might tell you they’re the same thing). There weren’t any recent posts, but there were a few from a few weeks after we broke up. They were him trying to get back into PUA and being… well… unsuccessful and creepy.

The thought has occurred to me lately that even though I didn’t initiate that breakup, I’m the one that came better out of it. Even though I’m not going out with anyone, I get the impression I have my shit more together than he does. I think I’ve had more success in being with new people since then. I don’t mean that pick-up style, I mean that just meeting new people. I’m certainly not being the desperate, creepy one.

I think that might be part of his and some other people’s problems. The obsession and focus of meeting the preferred sex for finding a mate is going to make you come off in a particular unattractive way if you let it consume you.

1. You think you need it.

You don’t need to get laid. You don’t need a boy/girlfriend. Life goes on. Great things happen either way. People who think they need it will give off the desperate vibe. The desperate vibe makes a woman feel creeped out, unsafe, and not special at all. I too have fallen into this trap, and I know it doesn’t come off as a good vibe to guys either (at least not the ones you want to attract).

2. It’s your number one motivator for meeting, talking to, and getting to know people.

You only talk to them if you think they might be your type. At the mention of a boy/girlfriend, you’re not interested in communicating with them any more.

This is what I told one of my friends: he may not be your next boyfriend, but what if his brother or best friend is your soulmate? Friends are very valuable to life in general. They can also help you find that next someone. There’s nothing wrong with just making friends.

This also is a problem in the way you approach people. You can flirt without using crappy pickup lines. If you’re smiling a bunch, using good body language, being interested, asking questions about their life, etc., you don’t need to say something like, “Hey, nice shoes… wanna f-“.

I think openers are stupid. Sorry, PUA people. They are. They are just alternate phrasing for crappy pickup line. They’re not any better. Try some genuine, off the top you’re your head, not creepy, real world conversation starters. Walking up to some random person on the street and calling them cute is a no. I’m sorry if someone who uses that is reading this and being offended, but someone has to tell you before you get maced. You may hate me now, but thank me later.

3. You’re approaching it as a player in a game rather than yourself.

As I got to know what PUA was, I didn’t gain much respect for it, and this is one of the big reasons. I love games. You might even call me a gamer. However, meeting people is not going to be won with cheat codes. I don’t care how many books your read, lines you put together based on those, or methods you use. To find someone lasting, you have to put your actual self out there (that includes to meet good friends and significant others).

Are you only interested in shallow acquaintances? Awkward lays? Maybe those lines could work for you then.

I guess the big question is: who are you and what do you want?

I’d like to find someone worth sticking my neck out for again, but I’m in no hurry either. There are a lot of great connections to be made with people out there without expecting them to be the next anything. I want to have fun. I want to meet people. But… I don’t need anything from these people. I’m comfortable here with myself, by myself both growing and existing. I don’t need another half, because I’m already a whole. One day I’d like to meet another whole person, a partner who fits me well, but I know it’s not going to happen by any kind of force.

Getting Jealous and Trying to Get Jealousy

I’m single now, but have been in long term relationships, one which was almost five years long. Even though been cheated on, abandoned, and I still don’t get the whole jealousy thing.

I don’t understand the purpose being jealous. Feeling threatened by other people or even (ahem) objects just shows a lack of trust in the other person and security with one self. It’s also a major turn off.

I equally don’t get it when other couples tip toe around, being careful not to make the other person jealous.

I’m not saying I haven’t done stupid things like neglected friendships when being in relationships. However, I have never thought to give up one on one encounters with people of the opposite sex just because of the status of being in a relationship. I (surprise) connect with guys. I enjoy their company in an entirely non-sexual way.

Many of them are gay and many of them have relationships of their own anyways. Sometimes I’m in a big group, and sometimes, one on one with a person. I don’t think you give up that right to have plans with your friends when you enter into a relationship, even if the friend is of the opposite sex and even if it’s just the you two doing something together. I have always been more likely to hang out with people one on one or in a very small group, so maybe that’s why I don’t see anything wrong with people keeping their other close knit friends no matter what their relationship status.

If anything, maybe a guy should take care with women having gay and bisexual women friends. It makes the same amount of sense.

If a boyfriend or husband ever tried to tell me to not hang out with someone, how would I handle it? I think I would have a hard time seeing their point of view, though I’d try. I’ve let guys come between be and friends too much in the past. There just has to be enough trust to allow that most important person in your life have other people be important in theirs. If your significant other isn’t worthy of your trust, what are you doing trusting them enough to be in any kind of relationship with you?

Do you worry about flirting? Anything can be flirting. Anything can be interpreted as flirting. Worrying about that is like worrying about a ‘your mom’ joke. It isn’t serious unless it’s serious, and really, how often is that?

I’d give any guy the same free reign I expect from them, to hang out with whoever. The guys who are going to cheat on me will whether or not I try to control their friendships. They are not worth keeping anyways. If I can’t trust someone without monitoring them, then I can’t trust them at all.

I guess the most important thing is to make sure you’re on the same page in a relationship. If you’re not, that could take some serious discussion. It’s probably a better discussion to have before hand than after the fact. Different people have different boundaries and limits, and for those to be respected, they have to be known first. Then, I guess, you can tackle the obstacle of trying to understand why and coming to some sort of understanding.

Dreams: Secret Agent Full Contact Bowling

I started telling Rory Blyth, the smartest man in the world, about this dream in an email. I decided just to go ahead and write out the whole thing (as much as I could remember) and post it.

I’m tired. I’ve been going through a period of intense dreaming. It goes in cycles. Like always, I’ll eventually go back to more manageable dreaming. Until then…
– – – – –

I get a video emailed to me. It’s my boyfriend (in the dream) and he’s breaking up with me. In the video he has a laundry list of reasons, one of which is that he feels like we’re not really together anyways. I’m pretty angry as most of the things he lists he’s just as, if not more guilty than me. I try not to worry about it. I’m at a social gathering, trying to have fun but failing. I’m periodically checking my laptop for emails, from the higher-ups or a follow up to the video, though I tell myself I’m not.

I get a new assignment at the top secret government agency I work for. I’m used to moving often, but this time headquarters says I’ll likely be stationed here for the long haul. It’s with one of their active locations. At first I’m very flattered, as it’s a big promotion. Then I hear where it is and I want to scream. It’s where my ex, Raymond, works.

The base is a nondescript up-scale country home outside of the city. There’s a bench swing on the porch next to a large maple tree that over-hangs the house. A small garden lines the perimeter of the house. It looks innocent and homey. My ex is outside in dark shades, his hands stuck in his jean pockets. He’s tall and skinny as a beanpole with strait, long blond hair tied back in a ponytail. He looks like his skin hasn’t seen the sun in ages, and the shades in the early morning light testify to it. He grins at me as if all in the world is right and gives me a hug. It’s a nervous gesture. He obviously just found out I was coming.

He leads me into the house. A large-eyed woman sits at a baby-grand piano in the front hall looking at sheet music. She looks up and smiles slightly, tight lipped and goes back to scanning music. Her short hair is auburn and so is her lipstick. Her nose is small and slightly turned up and her skin almost albino. Her name is Lily. Jack is the boss and he shakes my hand as I reach the end of the foyer. He’s a tightly packaged and his sentences are the same. He’s a dark fellow in contrast to the other two. All business, hetakes over the tour. I learn that us four are the field team and the rest are in house operatives. We have a mission come nightfall. I’m told to be discreet unlike most “contract-cases”, as he calls people like me who move around a lot. He says I can’t just leave if things get screwed up. I need to play my cover well and carry out each job neat and quick. I need to learn to work with a team. He says he knows I’ve worked mainly solo, but HQ thinks I can make the adjustment. I agree with him, but internally I groan.

After the mission and cover debriefing, there’s a lot of time to kill. I wish I had stuff to move in to keep me busy, but all I have a two bags: clothes, hygienic implements, a few personal items, and my laptop. My new room is like a closet. All it has is a bed and a window. I can’t stay in there long. I start to get claustrophobic. So I have to venture out.

I meet some of the in house operatives- techs mostly. One of them in particular is eager to introduce himself to me. He’s short and squat, but that’s where the stereotypical computer geek ends. He’s got a black cap on backwards and a well kept goatee, clear, friendly face. He’s obviously the social type. His name is Ryan, and he’s heard a bunch about my through my ex. I can’t keep the groan internal. He gives me a summary of everyone that works in what everyone refers to as ‘the house’ (it’s easier to cover that way). I politely nod, but it’s too much information to store on top of all the important mission stuff. I’m almost not listening by the time he gets to describing Lily. Ryan tells me not to be jealous of her and I blink at him. He wisely moves on as quickly (as quickly as my ex had apparently).

Everyone starts letting loose by midday. Since work happens at night, daytime before a mission allows a bit of recreation time.

I venture outside and sit in the field in the back of the house, by a car. Sure enough, my ex follows me out. I expect things to be awkward, but we talk easy and start catching up. He’s talking fast and animatedly about anything and everything. Before I know it he’s got his arm around me and a combination of habits and hormones start to take hold. We get into the back of the parked car, but I realize it’s a bad idea as soon as I’m in there. I get up to leave but he tells me to wait and just sit with him. So, we do. I drift off to sleep leaning on him.

We are woken up by Lily and Jack coming out to the car to start the mission. Jack thinks we beat everyone, getting ready and to the car quickly. He congratulates us. I smirk at Ray who shrugs and puts his shades on.

We track the tagged in the car with what looks like an innocent GPS, but is much more. I’ve tracked down and subdued many of them in my career, but in my own way and with far less people. Jack follows the signal until it stops at an apartment building. He tells us all to get out in the parking lot. It’s then that the trouble starts.

I’m walking with Ray, Jack and Lily bringing up the rear, and next thing I know, fire is coming at us from the front. Ray drops to the ground too close to the flames and I drag him away. We get to the car, but we can’t go back to the house. If we’re followed, we can’t compromise anything. We go down a bunch of side streets and drive around the back of an elementary school. We go in an empty auditorium to regroup. The adrenaline starts to wear off and my face stings really bad. I reach up to touch it and a piece of my face cracks and is rubbed off onto my finger in a bloody mess. I feel my face ooze where I touch it. I go to the bathroom and do what I can with a medkit, but the whole lower right side of my face is cooked meat and there is a big gash on my forehead. I know it will be an easy fix at HQ, but for now it hurts like hell and I’m having a hard time doing it myself. I decide to go to the elementary school’s nurses office for some pain killers.

I open up the office and a man is in a stretcher minus two legs. Two nurses are hovered above him. They ask me what I want. I see the severity of this poor guy’s situation, but I am a bit taken aback that they don’t seem as concerned about my face as I. One of them gets really snotty, the other takes me into another room and pretends to care. She is trying to be sympathetic but asks what I expect her to do. She says she’s not allowed to give me any pain killers because I’m on duty. She says she can’t graft my face because they don’t have the time. Go figure.

Ray finds me and helps dress it a little better. He tries to be gentle but makes it hurt quite a bit. I try not to show it and joke by saying, “That’s what I get for not wearing any sunblock, huh?”

The operation is compromised, so we’re done for the night. The tagged one is probably half way to Mexico by now. I have to tend to my cover.

My cover is that I’m part of all women extreme bowling team. The city just happens to be the capital of this sport and its home team the best. As an expert player, I just got bought by the team. In this version of bowling, a person actually stands in front of the pins and uses their body to block the ball. There are rules for how one can and can’t do this. One woman I faced was really mean and cheating. She was a petite blonde, fair chick that had a bowling ball sized chest. She blocking bowling balls coming at her by doing splits and staying that way for too long. This is called holding in the game and is illegal. Before me my team mate, Steph, faced her. Steph is an immigrant from Paraguay and in the top of her game. She got all of her balls by the other team’s blocker, but there were still three pins standing. Considering how good the other team’s blocker was at cheating, this was impressive. The blocker continued to play dirty when I got up. I botched the first two balls, and she finally got a penalty called on her. I got pissed and threw a ball at her head and she caught it and threw it at me- I caught it. This too is illegal and we both had penalties called on us. The rest of the game was uneventful. Afterwards Ray and Ryan came over. Apparently they’d watched the whole game from the stands and think the sport is great. The other team’s blocker came over to congratulate us. I was surprised. I started talking to her and found her name was Chiran out she was an immigrant from Korea and winning meant a lot to her. I stood my ground and told her it was no excuse for being a bitch. She told me I was right and asked me if I wanted to hang out. So we made up and hugged. Ray made some suggestions on what we should be doing while hugging for his entertainment- especially with each other’s ‘bowling balls’. Ryan thought it was hilarious. I rolled my eyes.

Back at the house, Ray told me he was really thankful for what I did for him out in the field and he was sorry for the video. He said he’s been going through a rough spot and was very drunk. I tell him not to worry about it and that we were friends. He looks disappointed, and then kisses me before I can react. I look over and see Lily hovering nearby. I’m pissed and go off on him about how it’s not right.

“But she’s my sister…”


“I thought she was your new girlfriend.”

Ray looked a bit sheepish, “Ryan kind of planted that idea to see if you would get jealous. It was his idea, but I wanted to see if you still had feelings for me.”

I shook my head, “You dumbass. You would have known the answer to that sooner if you didn’t make me think you had a girlfriend.”