I knew that there would be an adjustment period as Stick and I reaclimated to each other, but I didn’t know there would be a honeymoon period, too. I’m always delighted when Stick gets me a drink or picks up my clothes (which I always seem to leave on the floor, and not in the hot way, either. Well, not always in the hot way). I also like having my WarCraft buddy a few feet away, so we can snark and strategize without using the chat channel.
“You’re like a dude,” he says.
“I said ‘You’re like a dude’. You’re a guy.”
“I am not!” I tell him. Sure, I might drink my Gatorade from the bottle, but it’s purely out of consideration for Stick. In our new domestic arrangement, I cook and he cleans, and honestly, did he want me to dirty another glass? (See what a thoughtful girlfriend I am?)
Apparently, in the Stick universe, these form of consideration are somewhat, um, masculine. And funny. To him, I mean, not me.
“What are you working on now, Guy?” Stick asked. That’s exactly the type of cute pet name I’d expect from a boy who calls himself Stick.