Ghoul
I was perched in a chair on the balcony, wrapped in a white terry cloth robe overlooking a moon lit tropical mountain. My white girl tan was setting in, I was warm, and I had volleyed between palm lined private pool decks, white sand beaches where Ky and I floated above swimming turtles that I initially mistook for a drowning for a naked toddler swimming because I'm a moron. In between our lackadaisical luxury bits we did adventuring on dangerous roads and kayak trips to watch the constantly breaching humpback whales before we each panicked at how far out in the ocean we were and if a humpback whale actually came close to our tiny floating plastic board we would both crap ourselves.
As Kyle and I sat on the balcony attempting to get white girl wasted on White Claws we saw a celebrating bride and her groom getting out of their van to the cheers of their waiting bridal party. Newly married and still hours away from drunkenly crashing into their lush white beds they had returned to the hotel from some offsite venue ready to drink the night away. Another woman many balconies over yelled down below "congratulations!" to the cheers of the wedding party below. I watched from my chair perch, toes brushing sand off themselves like a summer cricket and muttered out "you get no love from me." Like a gargoyle scowling above surrounded by dark night sky I turned to my left to see Kyle's surprised laughing face, utterly bemused at my abominable attitude, the opposite of the saccharine woman mere balconies over. "Alright ghoul" he said. And when I took stock of myself he was right. I was sit/squatting in a chair, with my short bleached hair poking out in every direction Hawaiian humidity. We were staying in a lovely resort for free and I was an aggressive little gargoyle withholding love from the newly wed couple below calling out my curses.
Weeks before I had confined in my therapist that I thought Kyle would propose on the trip, and I had already worked myself into a tizzy. It's not that I didn't want to stay with him, but in many ways I am the opposite of a basic bitch. The opposite is of course a cocky hipster, and both are equally unappealing. But I don't dream of a perfect wedding dress because I think most are ugly, and I don't want a cutting board with my name on it until I have Alzheimer's and need the reminder. In fact I don't want the cutting board at all because if quarantine has taught me anything its that I would rather subside on Chewy granola bars and stomach aches than clean a dish. A marriage sounds nice, but a wedding sounds like effort.
And there are so many bizarre wedding ceremonial aspects now, like washing the person's feet as if that is something to pat yourself on the back for. Jesus washed feet because everyone was in sandals and baths were few and far between. The feet were dirty and he was doing a service! I however am more than happy to give a pedicure to my loved ones relatively clean smell free feet, especially if it means I get to take down the talons that Kyle calls his toes. The only equivalent for the ceremony for me would be to pluck his eyebrows, which for some reason I love doing to myself but it makes me want to vomit any time I do it for someone else. And at times weddings are too intimate, I don't want to know why you love this other person, a person I know you had a massive fight over a mango with. If anything I want funny honesty, and if there is nothing fun about the two of you then just send me a postcard and Uber Eats credit.
Kyle and I are also more comfortable than some married couples. I know my friend is still weary about her husband hearing her poop. As an IBS sufferer and cheese enthusiast I simply don't have the time to be bothered by that anymore. I would constantly end dates with my first boyfriend by asking him to take me home because I had a stomach ache. That was code for I need to poop and if you don't get me to a toilet I am comfortable with in the next eleven minutes you will see me sweat a river, grab my stomach, and look like I am trying to breath in outer space when in actuality my body is just really bad at holding stuff in. This went on with him for months until he was napping and I farted and about a week later he said "I heard it." I knew exactly what he was referring to.
Kyle on the other hand has seen me doing all sorts of gross things on video chat, some I even tried to hide initially and deny that I had done. Once when I was about to go to bed I had the phone propped on the bathroom counter while I went to the bathroom. He saw me grab toilet paper, blow my nose into it, then wipe. His face showed a look of horror and he while he could only see from about shoulders up, he knew what had happened, and called me out for it instantly. I denied at first, trying to hold on to some level of dignity, but eventually admitted yes I did just wipe myself with a used tissue, and no it's not a one off. If I think the toilet paper is fine still, I'll reduce, reuse, and upcycle. Really he should be proud of me, if I used a tissue for every nose wipe it would be me causing a toilet paper shortage, not the pandemic.
I'm sure something could be said about women being grosser than men, but on the flight home from Hawaii as I cavi-wiped my airline seat down in latex gloves with a mask on my face, I watched an old white man cough and sneeze into his tissue, wipe it on the in flight touchscreen TV then bring it back to his face and wiped again before placing the tissue in his wife's seat. This is of course during a pandemic where most people in first class are the older crowd, those naturally most at risk. Old white men, not just bad for women and the government, also bad for your health should be their new slogan. While my grossness is not cute, at least it doesn't impact anything except my fiances attraction towards me.
You get no love from me became the highlight and funniest part of our trip. Kyle and I know how lucky we are that we got to go on that trip, but a 17 day vacation can actually get to you. Too much relaxation can make you a real dick as it turns out. And from a wedding perspective it was hard not to. There was a wedding everyday at our hotel and each was as unoriginal as the last. All the lesbian weddings had pantsuits, all the straight couples had some random child dressed up misbehaving, and the honeymooners looked sunburned and bloated. And I felt above it all that is until Kyle proposed. He got down and said "will you marry me" and while I had expected it and had been fake proposing to him all day, when he actually asked I was excited and immediately changed. The first couple that walked by I blurted out "I JUST GOT ENGAGED!!!!!" It must be a trigger in the brain that just goes a little loopy. He has seen you take your own snot to wipe with, hears your stomach grumbling after cheese, and let's you gag while you attack his stray unibrow hairs and he still wants to marry you.
Sure I still don't want the rigmarole of a wedding, and I would much rather walk down the aisle looking like Galadriel than a princess. An elfin creature who is a little pretty, a little scary, and a little batshit when she sees a ring.
As Kyle and I sat on the balcony attempting to get white girl wasted on White Claws we saw a celebrating bride and her groom getting out of their van to the cheers of their waiting bridal party. Newly married and still hours away from drunkenly crashing into their lush white beds they had returned to the hotel from some offsite venue ready to drink the night away. Another woman many balconies over yelled down below "congratulations!" to the cheers of the wedding party below. I watched from my chair perch, toes brushing sand off themselves like a summer cricket and muttered out "you get no love from me." Like a gargoyle scowling above surrounded by dark night sky I turned to my left to see Kyle's surprised laughing face, utterly bemused at my abominable attitude, the opposite of the saccharine woman mere balconies over. "Alright ghoul" he said. And when I took stock of myself he was right. I was sit/squatting in a chair, with my short bleached hair poking out in every direction Hawaiian humidity. We were staying in a lovely resort for free and I was an aggressive little gargoyle withholding love from the newly wed couple below calling out my curses.
Weeks before I had confined in my therapist that I thought Kyle would propose on the trip, and I had already worked myself into a tizzy. It's not that I didn't want to stay with him, but in many ways I am the opposite of a basic bitch. The opposite is of course a cocky hipster, and both are equally unappealing. But I don't dream of a perfect wedding dress because I think most are ugly, and I don't want a cutting board with my name on it until I have Alzheimer's and need the reminder. In fact I don't want the cutting board at all because if quarantine has taught me anything its that I would rather subside on Chewy granola bars and stomach aches than clean a dish. A marriage sounds nice, but a wedding sounds like effort.
And there are so many bizarre wedding ceremonial aspects now, like washing the person's feet as if that is something to pat yourself on the back for. Jesus washed feet because everyone was in sandals and baths were few and far between. The feet were dirty and he was doing a service! I however am more than happy to give a pedicure to my loved ones relatively clean smell free feet, especially if it means I get to take down the talons that Kyle calls his toes. The only equivalent for the ceremony for me would be to pluck his eyebrows, which for some reason I love doing to myself but it makes me want to vomit any time I do it for someone else. And at times weddings are too intimate, I don't want to know why you love this other person, a person I know you had a massive fight over a mango with. If anything I want funny honesty, and if there is nothing fun about the two of you then just send me a postcard and Uber Eats credit.
Kyle and I are also more comfortable than some married couples. I know my friend is still weary about her husband hearing her poop. As an IBS sufferer and cheese enthusiast I simply don't have the time to be bothered by that anymore. I would constantly end dates with my first boyfriend by asking him to take me home because I had a stomach ache. That was code for I need to poop and if you don't get me to a toilet I am comfortable with in the next eleven minutes you will see me sweat a river, grab my stomach, and look like I am trying to breath in outer space when in actuality my body is just really bad at holding stuff in. This went on with him for months until he was napping and I farted and about a week later he said "I heard it." I knew exactly what he was referring to.
Kyle on the other hand has seen me doing all sorts of gross things on video chat, some I even tried to hide initially and deny that I had done. Once when I was about to go to bed I had the phone propped on the bathroom counter while I went to the bathroom. He saw me grab toilet paper, blow my nose into it, then wipe. His face showed a look of horror and he while he could only see from about shoulders up, he knew what had happened, and called me out for it instantly. I denied at first, trying to hold on to some level of dignity, but eventually admitted yes I did just wipe myself with a used tissue, and no it's not a one off. If I think the toilet paper is fine still, I'll reduce, reuse, and upcycle. Really he should be proud of me, if I used a tissue for every nose wipe it would be me causing a toilet paper shortage, not the pandemic.
I'm sure something could be said about women being grosser than men, but on the flight home from Hawaii as I cavi-wiped my airline seat down in latex gloves with a mask on my face, I watched an old white man cough and sneeze into his tissue, wipe it on the in flight touchscreen TV then bring it back to his face and wiped again before placing the tissue in his wife's seat. This is of course during a pandemic where most people in first class are the older crowd, those naturally most at risk. Old white men, not just bad for women and the government, also bad for your health should be their new slogan. While my grossness is not cute, at least it doesn't impact anything except my fiances attraction towards me.
You get no love from me became the highlight and funniest part of our trip. Kyle and I know how lucky we are that we got to go on that trip, but a 17 day vacation can actually get to you. Too much relaxation can make you a real dick as it turns out. And from a wedding perspective it was hard not to. There was a wedding everyday at our hotel and each was as unoriginal as the last. All the lesbian weddings had pantsuits, all the straight couples had some random child dressed up misbehaving, and the honeymooners looked sunburned and bloated. And I felt above it all that is until Kyle proposed. He got down and said "will you marry me" and while I had expected it and had been fake proposing to him all day, when he actually asked I was excited and immediately changed. The first couple that walked by I blurted out "I JUST GOT ENGAGED!!!!!" It must be a trigger in the brain that just goes a little loopy. He has seen you take your own snot to wipe with, hears your stomach grumbling after cheese, and let's you gag while you attack his stray unibrow hairs and he still wants to marry you.
Sure I still don't want the rigmarole of a wedding, and I would much rather walk down the aisle looking like Galadriel than a princess. An elfin creature who is a little pretty, a little scary, and a little batshit when she sees a ring.
Comments
Post a Comment