That Awkward Moment When You Think Your Boyfriend May Be Retarded

   Look, boyfriend’s not that mentally challenged. (Although he’s injured himself enough times that it is entirely possible- I blame the bikes.) But occasionally he has moments where I wonder about him. Yes, he did consent to be written about in this blog post. Which almost says enough. Good god I love him.


   We regularly bicker like an old married couple. This may be just as well considering we will never be an old married couple. This is mainly because his surname is Bell, which is rather unfortunate when you take my first name into account. Annabel Bell. Oh god.

   But sometimes, he just does weird things.

   One day he was at mine, and he just casually wandered up to my dresser- upon which I keep my makeup.
“What’s this stuff?” he enquired.
“Oh, those ones are eyeshadows, that one is blusher, and those are- OH MY GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” He turned around and I discovered he had applied sparkly blue eyeshadow to his cheeks like war paint. He looked like a homosexual Red Indian drag queen.
“Oh Jordan. Look at you. Come here, let me do it properly,” I insisted. I reached for the eyeshadows.
“No, no! Not the purple one!” he cried out. I giggled and attacked him with it.
“Why not? Will it insult your masculinity?” I asked. He turned to look at me with a face full of glittery makeup.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, it will.”

   He stayed the other night, and got all excited about my new iPod. (I have to keep an eye on it in case he steals it/breaks it, which unfortunately makes me feel as though I am babysitting my twenty-five year old boyfriend. Great.) He was actually quite impressed to find music on it that he didn’t hate.
“Oooh! Nirvana! You know, I have a box set at home. All the obscure songs.” It was now my turn to be seriously impressed. Nirvana happens to be my true love. I even offered to marry him, provided I didn’t have to have Bell as a surname. He continued flicking through my iPod.
“Oh wow. You have good music. For a girl.” Ah, just when I thought we were making progress…

   The other night, he was also excited to discover AFI on my iPod, because as far as he was concerned, they sounded exactly like The Bleeders. And he happened to be wearing a Bleeders t-shirt. Well. Actually it was lying on the floor because it was stinking hot and I wouldn’t let him open the window in case some creep came in and got us. Yes, I am that paranoid. Really? Anyway. If there is anything I associate with AFI, its Davey Havok in sparkly blue eyeshadow. Where have we seen sparkly blue eyeshadow before?

   That same night he also tried to convince me that “alot” (which Word just auto-corrected!) was actually a word, and that it always has been. I tried to direct him to Hyperbole and a Half but he wouldn’t believe me.
“Look Annabel, I didn’t drop out of high school in year 12 only to find out that “a lot” is two words,” he protested. Oh dear.

   Recently, he has also decided that I should become a lesbian. This is a brilliant idea, except for my lack of sexual attraction for women, and the fact that I like men. Nevertheless, he persists in his plan, mostly by threatening to give me a lesbian haircut. I don’t let him near scissors anymore.

   Also, he’s in a relationship with me. He’s clearly retarded.



Somehow I find this sexually appealing.