There we were, sitting on the couch, partially watching, but also enjoying, Channing Tatum's sweet dance moves and the ridiculousness of Matthew Mcconaughey, when suddenly I was overcome with this need to do something. Vince has been working some pretty crazy hours - like 12 hours a day, 6 days a week kind of crazy - so when Saturday night rolled around he understandably wanted to stay at home, relax, and go to bed early.
To a sane person.
I started whining.
"Lets do something."
"I'm so bored."
"Why don't you love me?!"
I had no idea what I actually wanted to do. It was 10:30 PM in North Carolina - there wasn't anything to do. I had no suggestions, but fully expected Vince to accommodate my boredom. And when he couldn't?
The first stage is pretending like everything is dandy, but the key is to not act like everything is dandy. Aka being as passive aggressive as possible.
The second stage is the silent treatment. I'm really good at this.
The third stage is anger. You can get creative here.
The final stage?
Crying uncontrollably for absolutely no reason.
Poor Vince. He did his best to console me/sedate me with a nice back scratch and the reassurance he still loved me. Naturally, I didn't believe him, and instead went to bed a snotty mess convinced life was just going to be crappy from then on.
The next day I woke-up in a fog. The full on crazy train that occurred the night before slowly started coming back to me. I headed over to Vince's to sheepishly apologize and thank him for being the best-most-sane-boyfriend there ever was. He graciously forgave me (because he's one of those sane understanding people) and all was right in the world.
.....Until next month.