I knew 2.0 was the guy for me the very first time we met. And when, on our second date, I drooled on my pants and he didn’t bat an eye, I was quite sure he liked me too. But I knew he loved me when he didn’t break up with me after I sleep farted on his thigh.
Truth: you can’t hold your gaz de l’air doux* in forever. Four months of politeness? Good grief. That just makes it aggressive, and you’ve gotta sleep sometime. Sleeping whilst cradled in the arms of the man you love? Perfect storm. In that relaxed state, it’s like releasing the Kraken. All of ’em. At the same time.
There will be confusion. (What was that? Is someone in the apartment? That was YOU? MY LEG! MY GOD, MY LEG!) But also, acceptance.
Happy Valentine’s Day, 2.0. I love you with all my butt.
*sweet love gas