For example, ML has watched Twilight with me twice. Reluctantly. In fact I think he may have fallen asleep the first time because I'm pretty positive he was snoring. Or maybe he was just groaning from the questionable effects and facial tics of one of the young, female stars.
To be totally honest, he really just thinks it's fucking lame.
But it doesn't matter that he hates it -- the Full Size Edwards are tolerated and though I have caught him glaring balefully at the one in the dining room from time to time, he allows me to keep them around 24/7. The only exception to this rule is that the FSEs do disappear when ML's parents come over. This, however, is a benefit for me more than him because I seriously don't want his folks to know exactly what it is I do on the computer for a good part of my day (or evening).
I'm confident that discussions about vibrators, fucking some young man who is not their son that I am currently involved with (no matter how hypothetical it is), butt secks, and poop jokes are not appropriate conversations to be had with your possible future in-laws.
Okay, I guess I have a small shred of a filter left. Or a sense of relationship preservation.
That is, of course, unless you don't want them as your in-laws. Then fuck it! Spread those dildo stories and ass cheeks and go about your newly-single merry way.
But I digress. At the end of the day, ML really has no clue just what the Twilight saga is about. He's only vaguely aware of pretty sparkly vampires and wolves and
Well, so I thought, anyway.
The other day I was lamenting to Snarkier Than You about all the yard work I had to do. [Note from LKW: Cry me a fucking river, whiner - my whole existence revolves around yard work.] I hate yard work, mainly because Mommy and Daddy (not a)Jerkface were slave drivers when I was a kid and would get us up at the ass-crack of dawn to pull weeds for, like, hours. With our teeth. And they'd stand over us sipping champagne and eating bon-bons and cackling like evil villains while me and Brother Jerkface sweated and bled and were eaten alive by various insects.
Well, that's how my teenage self remembers it, anyway. But she's an overly melodramatic little twit so it probably wasn't that bad.
Regardless, I fucking hate doing yard work but I put on a brave (aka "adult") face and told STY that when I was done toiling in the backyard it would be all nice and pretty with wildflowers and plants and butterflies and daisies and we could totally lay back there and stare adoringly into each other's eyes and...
That was about as far as I got in my conversation until ML piped up.
"This isn't Forks, Washington," he said.
I gave him my squinty bitch face, which is probably the expression I wear all the time anyway. "I know. What the fuck are you talking about?" I replied.
Eye roll. "The meadow. Our backyard is not the Twilight meadow."
I opened my mouth to say something snarky but paused as it dawned on me that ML had basically figured out exactly what I was talking about my overhearing my side of a conversation with STY.
Fuck. Me. Am I that transparent?
Why, yes. Yes, I am.