Blowjob Week and Terrible Lying

I came over in pj's and crawled onto his couch.

Me: So this week is blowjob week.

Wil: Blowjob week?
Me: Yeah. You know, that time of month.
Wil: Oh! I call that shark week!
Me: Ha! That’s awesome.
Wil: Because of blood and fish…
Me: No, I got it. I might have to steal that one.
Wil: You steal everything.

I don’t remember what we were doing. Watching South Park? Comic Book Men? Thor? But after a long pause he looked… depressed.

Me: Why do you look so sad?

Wil: I hate blowjob week!
Me: I never heard a guy say hate and blowjob in the same sentence. Unless teeth were involved.
Wil: Well, I do. It means no sex. How long does this week last?
Me: Like 4 days top.

He huffed and crossed his arms, looking at me suspiciously as if I had purposefully caused this to happen.

Me: Look. I don’t even want this uterus. Or these eggs. Babies are horrifying and I want no part of them. This bleeding is pointless as far as I am concerned.

He glared at me.

Me: At least I bleed hard for two days and then it’s mostly over.

His face turned to disgust and he backed away.

Wil: Ah! Don’t talk to me about that! What is wrong with you? Don’t you know guys are like 7^th graders when it comes to this topic? We do NOT want to hear about it.

Me: Ok. Ok. But at least you can get off. I am the one that truly suffers here.

Wil drew down his eyebrows and stuck out his lip.

Wil: I. Hate. Blowjob. Week.

I have to admit, at first I was confused by this. (Then again, I am confused by almost everything he does.) I thought he would be happy. Part of me may be broken but the rest of me was functional. And what guy doesn’t like 4 days of sitting back and not having any pressure to perform? But in a way it made sense. Wil was a man, of course he loved blowjobs. What he didn't like was being told what he couldn't have. He was definitely a strange person. 

And don’t get me wrong. I found his hatred of blowjob week adorable. This is where his true charm lies, actually. He thinks it is in his cocky attitude, his flirty demeanor, his quick wit. But he is wrong. It is in these real moments, when he openly pouts, gets childishly excited, or the few seconds he has shown me his ‘serious’ side. And I like that he doesn’t know this (although now I just fucking ruined it for the sake of blogging). It gives me a sense of whom I am really dealing with without him having any control over my perception.

So how did blowjob week go, you ask? It was 4 days of Wil giving me ‘how dare you’ looks and occasionally shaking his head at me. Yep. Apparently, he and my uterus were not on good terms. Don’t worry, they have since made up.

In other Wil news, here is a conversation from last night.

Wil: I like that you give me my space.

Me: Why wouldn’t I? I trust you. Plus, I spent the last year building a social life and enjoying my own alone time. I don’t want to lose that.
Wil: Good. Me neither. Most girls get upset, though.  
Me: Actually, I am kidding. It does upset me. I need you spend every day with me. Every day. If you don’t, I will bitch at you and make your life miserable. I will also make unreasonable demands on you and judge you for your lifestyle.
Wil: Now you sound like a female.
Me: I am being serious. Every god damn day.

For a moment he looked at me like I had lost my mind and then he smiled.

Wil: You really are a terrible liar.

And I am. Unless I am drunk and cops are involved. Or when I have a gun pointed at me because some Englishman thinks I am a gypo camping out on his property. Then my lying is Oscar worthy. You’d be impressed.