Beehive and I very rarely ever fight. It always amazes how well we get along. He's pretty easygoing and calm, and as I've been told by many a friend, he seems to have a soothing quality that overtakes me when we're together.
That is, except for pms week.
pms week. anything goes during that week. I can find fault with a nun collecting charity for homeless orphans when my hormones are all whack. It sucks, and I know to expect it, but it doesn't make me any less of a psycho, sadly.
Last night, I was a little early to arrive at Beehive's place. I had left him a few messages to alert him to this fact, but never actually got him on the phone. It was pouring rain, and i don't have keys to his place, so i started to worry a little that maybe he wasn't home yet, since he was expecting me later...and i was going to have to sit on his stoop in the fucking downpour and pout.
Or, maybe he hit his head on his chin up bar, passed out and was in a coma...clearly unable to answer the phone.
At any rate, I got to his house and, of course, he was there, and answered the door.
"You don't answer your phone?" I growled, brushing past him to get into the house, no kiss.
"i didn't hear it. i had it on silent" he said sheepishly.
This, for some reason, set me off. We then had our monthly discussion
about how he has no respect for me or my time. no respect at all.
I just wanted a little respect, man!
After my tirade, i looked up. Beehive had a look on his face that was a cross between needing to poop and having a big wedgie. I knew this look. I'd seen it before.
"Are you trying not to LAUGH at me?" i shouted.
"no...uh...no..." he chortled, clearly amused at my outburt and unable to hide it one second more.
The laugh was loud, long, and admittedly, much deserved.
SO much for respect!!!