Sometimes you leave the door open when you pee.
You have no problem sending texts that are like, “My uterus is actively trying to kill me. Bring tampons and chicken nuggets.”
And he has no problem being like, “I gotchu, girl. Super or super plus?”
You have pet names for each other.
But not normal names like “sweet pea” or “honey.”
Oh, no. You two freaks call each other things like “toots” or “bubbles” or “Sasquatch.”
Sometimes you eat in bed.
As in, you’re just sitting there, chilling in your underwear, with nothing between you but a pizza box and a bottle of ranch.
Which brings me to my next point: underwear.
You literally never wear pants at home. Ever.
Basically the two of you just hang out in T-shirts and boxers like some sort of loser, degenerate Pooh Bears.
He tolerates your love of “inspecting” him–meaning you not-so-sneakily scour his body for imperfections.
And OMG if he has a zit and he doesn’t let you pop it, so help you, God, he’s sleeping on the couch.
Sometimes you have sex with your socks on.
You high-five as much as you kiss. Sometimes maybe more.
You frequently speak in British accents.
And no one but the two of you thinks it’s funny.
You openly talk about really weird, gross things, like bodily functions and your love of McDonald’s.
You watch the same episode of “Parks and Recreation” every night before falling asleep.
And the jokes still get you every time.
Oh, Leslie Knope, you devil woman, you.
You still think “pantsing” is funny.
So you do it frequently.
But only in the presence of each other…and close friends.
He makes gross noises in front of you.
And you laugh.
You’ve morphed your faces together to see what your baby would look like.
Spoiler alert: it’s scary looking.
He “honks” your boobs.
When he does, you just sit there all like, “Yeah, those are my boobs.”
Then you make him do it again because you think it’s funny.
Sometimes you just sit for hours watching YouTube videos of baby animals.
You wager blow jobs rather than money when you bet.
For example: “If you drink all 17 of these Taco Bell hot sauce packets, I’ll go down on you…for three minutes.”
Sending each other ugly selfies is a normal pastime.
You make him guess how long it’s been since you’ve shaved your legs.
Then you laugh because he makes a face of disgust.
He knows all about your first period.
And literally every other medical issue, personal issue, family issue, stomach bug, and zit you’ve ever had in your life.
You named his penis.
You have to constantly remind yourself to “be normal” when you’re in public.
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