why i love him

because we kept trying to 'pants' each other last night.

that's right. at the ripe ages of 29 and 28, respectively, the bf and i lunged at each other. the objective? to get a pair of black knit boxsies on the floor.

the standoff was in the kitchen (where else?). with widened stances and mimicking 'standing like a girl' we batted at each other like sumo wrestlers. we attacked each other with determination amid peals of laughter and gasps of breath. he got me once, i got him once, i lost track after my victory lap around the coffee table.

the kicker came when i was brushing my teeth. standing in front of the mirror, minding my own business, the bf stood behind me. one swift yank and my shorts hit the floor. giggling like a maniac, pumping fists in the air, another pyrrhic victory for the bf. hmmph. i suppose, if that even counts as a victory. if you're into that sort of thing.

and then i showed him what all good girls know. how to pull up your shorts without using your hands.

i cannot imagine a sillier way to spend an evening. and i love it.