I once overheard someone say that a woman will never fart or burp until she has her toothbrush by your sink and her socks in your drawers. As a woman, I am inclined to agree because beyond that sexist remark, lurks a kernel of truth.
To some people, a relationship means stability, surviving on last night’s leftover and never having to pee with the door shut again. Points at self ☞ guilty. When the affair first begin, we sit with our legs crossed and practice our smiles infront of the mirror. When the affair turns into a relationship, we sit like trishaw men and snort after each laugh. We put away our lacy panties and start wearing comfy undies. Ahhh such is the cavalier, and somewhat obliging nature of the comfort zone.
And that comfort zone, its nice and cosy once you get there. It can even seem peaceful, after the fever of intense text flirting, candlelight dinners, bouquets of affection and semen on the curtains. But the comfort zone is also a danger zone. The comfort of sitting in silence is over rated when it stops being companionable and starts being awkward.
You want the love to last an eternity, not feel like an eternity. You could start by treating your partner as if you could lose her at any moment. And you know what? You could. If you thought otherwise, you’re taking your love for granted. And trust me, you wouldn’t want to do that. Unless of course, you’re perfectly fine existing on the diet of a dying affair.