ja_koniga

He’s terribly excited about this, this prospect of moving to Boston, that he fanatically browses the same Boston websites, over and over. Actually, I do this too.

Since last week we’ve been having discussions about the cost of living in an expensive city, whether or not we should bring a car, and what kind of ‘Ken Meltdowns’ to expect. I’m mostly concerned with how we’re going to ship my green chair across the country and whether or not Boston has a bakery like Gourmandies. My week isn’t complete without a piece of liberal Salt Lake City cheesecake.

During one of these moving conversations I sat down with SML and very seriously said, “You had better start packing now if you want to take all of your shoes to Boston.”

I think that the original plan for this trip was that I’d come along, complain incessantly about being cold, and then ask the locals where the hottest tea parties are. That plan changed because of work scheduling issues, but I wish him the best luck. It’s an exciting time.

Since the beginning of this year SML has been preparing for Business School, whether it was studying for the GMAT, writing essays, or preparing for interviews. His dedication is impeccable to me, because the only thing that I’m dedicated to is my morning cup of coffee. When I think about all of the time he’s spent just reading about business school, I get a little freaked out and concerned that my boyfriend is actually a Honda Asimo. A very life-like Honda Asimo.

SML: “No, wait here with me.”

Ken: “Plllleeease, I want a hot dog, I didn’t have dinner! I’ll be back before they call you.”

SML: “Fine.”

Ken: “Okay. Can I have some money?”

Oddly enough, a lot of our conversations are like this.

SML is generally a nervous person; often times before any event larger than waking up in the morning, he’ll discontinue meals and purge like a celebrity on E. I’m actually trying to ‘catch’ these symptoms, because my stomach is becoming grotesquely large and my pants don’t quite fit like they used to.

I can’t say I’ve ever listened to KCPW before, so saying that this was my most favorite radio episode can’t have any bearing; but hearing your boyfriend across radio waves is thrilling. It’s almost like I’m in love with a celebrity and our next stop is LA and my own television show called, “Victoria Beckham Ken, Coming to America.”

We made a goal earlier in the year that we’d move in together in July and since that month is fast approaching, SML’s books have been the first things to move in. I have a small bookcase that I bought last year to hold decorations and bottles because books? Seriously? Who has books when you have a television and the Internet.

Earlier this week SML came over with handfuls of books and started replacing my things with books about economics and politics. I always feel amazed when I see these kinds of things in real life because I had previously thought that Hollywood totally made up smart people for movies about computer crime and espionage.

I can only imagine the fortune SML has spent on these books. It makes me a little uneasy because most of my money is spent on food and Nair. When SML started his new job he was upset that he wouldn’t get an educator’s discount on books anymore; as though managing your own store is so not worth it if you don’t get a discount at Barnes and Noble.

It’s not the worst thing ever because I can totally play it off like I’ve read all those books myself; and that my nickname is Smarty Pants.

SML and I had our first date a year ago on April 30. I invited SML to breakfast at the Oasis Café at eight o’clock on a Sunday morning. A lot of people think that time is ungodly, but I think it worked well for us because we’re both morning people. The night dates that followed make me cringe and tingle to think about because never in my life has something so unpleasant turned into something so good.

To celebrate our one-er, SML and I went back to crime scene last night and ordered dinner instead of breakfast. SML is very formal when it comes to these matters, and asked me what my favorite memories were in the last year and then sat tall in his chair. A lot of experiences went through my mind at that moment, including that time I burped in his mouth, or that other time when SML farted on my head.

My first answer was, “Remember that one time when you going home and you forgot to put on your shoes?” After I said that I got the distinct feeling that SML was trying to be romantic, and said that I had many favorite moments: The first time SML spent the night and told me in the morning that he thought he was dying. Holding hands during the worst movie ever, Lady in the Water. Shopping in Park City. Making Halloween cookies. Being jealous that SML paid more attention to a skinny dog.

There's really not enough time to talk about SML. But I'm hoping for even more memories.

We got over the fight soon enough, but not until the next day when I felt exhausted and dry of affection that there was nothing left to do but make-up. I spent the entire day following the fight worrying that I was an ass and feeling like I should make it up to SML by flushing my entire head down a toilet.

On Wednesday night when SML farted on my head; wait, let me get this point very clear: When SML stood up on my couch and sat on my head and farted I thought, “Wow. This is so much better than flushing my head down a toilet.”