But he’s not home right now.
Instead of humping, I ate a super boring spinach salad. If Jeff would have been here, he would have said, “Babe, are you sure you want to eat that? Last time you a ate a spinach salad you said to me, ‘Jeff, don’t ever let me eat a spinach salad all by itself like this again. It gives me crazy green poop for two days,’ and those are your words not mine. Even though I love you and I don’t care if you have crazy green spinach poop.” To which I would have replied, “Thanks, babe!” and eaten the salad anyway, ’cause I fucking love spinach salads.
The point is, he’s not here to warn me about my crazy green spinach poop. So, I turn to my other boyfriend, Steve Martin.
My boyfriend reminds me a great deal of Steve Martin in Roxanne. I say Roxanne because I don’t mean Cyrano de Bergerac. I’ve read that play and he is nothing like the play. Steve Martin takes it up a notch and I sweartogod I wouldn’t be surprised if I walked in on Jeff watching the movie, rehearsing Lines/Personality Traits That Will Make Amanda Hot. My philosophy brain gets freaked out by this concept because I start to wonder if I am really attracted to my boyfriend specifically because he is like Steve Martin in Roxanne. Then, because of my philosophy degree, I instantly leapfrog into, THERE IS NO FATE OR PLAN. EVERYTHING IS RANDOM AND YOU WILL DIE ALONE. Which, as any student of philosophy can tell you, is a natural transition made for the rest of one’s life after they have taken just one philosophy class. Imagine majoring in it.
As a tribute to my boyfriend who is not here right now, as he is instead playing poker and getting drunk with The Dudes, which if I’m being honest he really deserves a night with said dudes, I would like to mention one of his favorite books, The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster. This book is special for both of us now because – get ready to puke in your mouth a little – he gave it to me our first Christmas together with a very sweet inscription in his wonderful, all capital letters, engineering student handwriting.
So, until he gets home, I will pine for his taste in books, his cool handwriting, and his sweet, sweet lumberjack lovin’. But when he gets back, we’re gonna hump.