May 26 2001

Mr. Comfortable

I'm so damn

My friend Dave told me recently that a guy I used to date (let's call him Mr. Comfortable) asked him for my phone number. Dave didn't give it to him. We have an agreement that if an ex asks either of us for info about the other one we will disavow all knowledge of phone numbers, e-mail addresses and existence in general.

Mr. Comfortable and I had our good times but he made a fatal error one day when I drove up for a visit and found him waiting for me on the couch in a grungy pair of boxers and a t-shirt that I swear had a pee stain on it. He sighed contentedly and commented that he really liked how our relationship had entered that "comfortable" stage where we no longer had to try and impress each other. (Houston, we have a moron.) That ended things pretty quickly. Don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of casual. And I'd rather take a walk or watch a silly tv show on a date than go out to some expensive restaurant or club. But I draw the line at sitting around in your boxers, unshowered and unreasonably pleased with yourself. Mr. Comfortable also made it clear that being "comfortable" meant he could tell me what to wear. Apparently, boxers and a stained t-shirt are okay for him. But I should be wearing tight clothes and heels. Wah-hahahaha! Oh, it is to laugh. I don't know where he'd been hiding that side of his personality but I think I broke the sound barrier when I drove away from his house that day. You probably heard the sonic boom. Have a great night.

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