Jump to content
x_dak_x

Things your significant other does that makes you go awwwwww

Recommended Posts

all good things come to the end. fuck myself for ever making this thread.

2 years together. now on a 6 months no contact break. pretty sure it's fucking over.

unless he visits a psych and gets some help or something...

total mr jenkins/hyde. he became the biggest jackass ever.

8=>

...does that make you go aww?

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Awww-shit? Maybe? *huggles dak*

Would it be insensitive to reply on topic with the awesome stuff my bf does? :X He's already "trained" for pregnancy cravings (he likes to go out at night so he's always asking if I want/need anything so he can go buy it for me). XD Too bad pregnancy won't happen for at least 2-3 more years or so. (Must finish school!)

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

He said that girls don't need to wear make up and that being confident in yourself so that you don't have to hide behind make up and just being genuine is more beautiful than all the make up, glitter and stickers you can plaster all over your face.

 

I still wear some eye liner though :D

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

ゆうぎ said I never brag about her being the best girlfriend, so just to prove her wrong:

I suppose it might be a little weird, but from time to time I'll read her bedtime stories and I can't help but awwwww whenever she falls asleep during one of them, knowing how relaxed and comfortable she is with me.

...Also when she wakes up and tries to talk to me in Finnish *giggles*

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

There's nothing more awwwwwww than the gift of diabetes <3

 

Edit: nevermind, I just saw that they were sugar-free.

Then uh... there's nothing more awwwwww than the gift of hours of stomach pain and getting to live in the bathroom? :'D

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

^

Reading those reviews it may be a trap.

He said he saw that after he bought them, but then decided "well I can't just not give him this" so, now they're sitting in a bag above my cabinet. 

 

So far nothing has happened, but I also don't eat more than a handful per sitting since too much gummy candy makes me nauseous regardless of them being made of laxatives.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

My Dinner With Andrea

By Farva21 on November 21, 2013

I'm pretty sure Andrea (I'll call her) agreed to have dinner at my apartment only because I always spoke to her using nothing but my two-years-of-high-school German. Her English was perfect. Probably better than mine. But the fact that I could only ask her directions to the Autobahn or inquire about the health of her non-existent Tante Amelia, seemed to make me appealing to her in a sweet and non-threatening way.

My intentions, however, were considerably less child-like. Which is why the shopping that night was done at one of those upscale groceries with an international flair. Moules Marinieres is as much of a panty-peeler as anything I can cook, and isn't that hard to pull off. But still, I was busy tracking the recipe in my head when I found myself in the sweets aisle. And that, to my great chagrin, is why I didn't immediately notice the difference between Haribo Normal Gummi Bears (which are designed for human enjoyment) and Haribo Sugarless Gummi Bears (which are designed for use in maximum security prisons as a way to punish uncooperative inmates).

I shan't make that mistake again. (notice you can't spell SHAN'T without SHAT.)

Prior to Andrea's arrival, I sat in my living room, creating a playlist of make-out music and nervously binging on the Gummi Bears I had placed in a decorative bowl because I am fancy.

The doorbell rang, and within minutes we were standing in the kitchen, drinking beers and both of us probably worrying that we were about to exhaust my ability to communicate in her native tongue. But soon that would be the least of my worries. In the middle of trying to ask Andrea if she likes to dance to young people's music, I felt a flutter in my midsection, accompanied by a guttural pronouncement so loud it threatened to drown out my own voice.

Maybe it was because I was mentally refreshing my language lessons, but it suddenly struck me how much pre-diarrheal grumblings sound like German words.

"ENTSCHULDIGUNG!" was the next thing uttered by my rapidly clenching stomach. Appropriately, Andrea looked up in response.

"Sind Sie Kaffee machen?" she asked.

Am I making coffee?

I thought I must have mistranslated her at first, then finally I realized that yes, the loud, ominous gurgling coming from my gut could easily be mistaken for the percolating of some bachelor's crappy coffeemaker.

It's remarkable how quickly one knows that one is about to have a traumatic pottymaking experience. Maybe that's the body's way of buying you the precious seconds you need. I was already calculating the number of steps to the bathroom, speculating on whether I would have time to lift the lid to the toilet, when my own voice cried out loudly in my head.

She's going to hear EVERYTHING!

Thanks to an acoustical idiosyncrasy in my building, the hallway outside the bathroom works as an amplifier pointed straight at my living room-slash-kitchen. So that somehow even the gentlest tinkle sounds like I'm pouring lemonade out of a bucket.

With only half an idea of what I was doing, I grabbed Andrea's hand and pulled her roughly down onto my sofa. I must have looked like a madman as I booted up my iTunes playlist, plugged in the gigantic new headphones I had just bought to keep me looking young and hip, and clamped them down over her ears. (the sweat forming on my brow and upper lip couldn't have helped.) In response to her nervous expression, I kept shouting "You'll love this! You'll love this!"

I spun her around so that she was looking out the window. My "plan" was that she'd be so distracted by the modest 4th floor view, that it would allow me to pull my pants off while I sprinted down the hall, silently singing the praises of the noise-reducing quality of my new headphones. (this story will be reprinted in its entirety as a 5 star review on the Sony Beats Audio Amazon page.)

As I slammed the bathroom door shut, already half naked, it occurred to me that I had not been shouting "You'll love this!" at Andrea. I don't even know how to say that in German. In my desperation I had been saying "Ich Leibe Dich!" Repeatedly professing my love for her in a shaky and frantic voice. But maybe that was a good thing, because as I threw myself at the toilet, I figured the best I could hope for is that she would be so creeped-out that she would sneak out of the apartment, blissfully unaware of the carnage taking place in the next room.

What can I say about the ensuing white-knuckle bowel movement that hasn't been expressed in other reviews on this page? I'm pretty sure I haven't seen the adjective "Kafkaesque" used anywhere else.

By the end of Act One of this private little torture-porn movie, I was confessing to every unsolved crime in history. Praying I would stumble upon the one that would satisfy my invisible captors.

Quickly I realized that I had more than Andrea's sense of sound to worry about. Were she to get even the faintest whiff of the weapons-grade sluice that my anus was angrily shouting into the porcelain, I would have to change my name and move to another city.

And so I flushed. And flushed. And flushed and flushed.

And then I flushed and nothing happened.

I have never looked down into a broken toilet with more horror in my entire life. And I once stopped up George Clooney's crapper! (a true story for another time.)

I reached for the plunger, but my hand froze and my heart seized when I saw it on the floor, broken in two and covered in what looked like teeth marks. Apparently I had used the wooden handle to keep from biting my tongue off and had chewed clean through it. When did that happen? It seems my mind had already started the process of repressing this entire event.

Amid the feverish, fruitless dance I did across my tiny bathroom floor, it dawned on me that it had been more than a minute since my last soul-wrenching anal tantrum. Dear Lord, is it over? I asked, quite possibly aloud.

I may have been light-headed and delusional, but I began to imagine a non-ignominious resolution to this ordeal. I just needed to get her the hell out of here. If Andrea hadn't fled the building, vomiting in terror, then I supposed I could pull up my trousers and make a cavalier exit. As long as I could get her off premises and as far away from this post-apocalyptic commode as humanly possible. Assuming that the Diarrhistas had retreated to the hills temporarily, maybe I could even whisk Andrea away to a candlelight dinner at Bernardo's. How impulsive!

My first few steps back toward the living room were tentative. And not just because my sphincter felt raw and tattered. It was a slow approach to the Moment of Truth, especially when I saw her figure still planted on my sofa. I knew any look on Andrea's face other than her mouth agape would constitute a miraculous victory. And when she smiled at me, the wash of relief that engulfed me was more glorious than any throes of ecstasy I might have wished for at the beginning of the night.

And then I saw it.

The decorative bowl sitting in her lap. Down to just the last few sugarless Gummi bears.

"Du hast Haribo!" she said to me. Accompanied by a satisfied smile. A big, beaming Hansel and Gretel smile, that slightly turned down in one corner at the sound we both suddenly heard. A low rumble from deep within her GI tract that sounded like Gefahrrrrr.

The German word for Danger.

Her eyes shot past mine and refocused on the bathroom door just down the hall behind me.

 

same here LMAO. Personal favourite ^

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Things my significant other does that makes me go aww are the times when HE STOPS MENTIONING THE TIME WHEN I ACCIDENTALLY SPOKE FINNISH WHILE ASLEEP. Thank you.

 

No but real, I love it that we have sort of a competition going on that he tries to come up with the most pun-y, lame and corny pick up lines to embarrass me, yet he never succeeds. :P

 

Like yesterday, after playing Ace Attorney Investigations: Miles Edgeworth, he said "You put the 'cute' in prosecute." Oh god that's so awful that it made me giggle.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    No registered users viewing this page.

×
×
  • Create New...