the other day was an especially long one.

up at dawn. didn’t get much sleep. at a client’s exceedingly long and aggravating job site all morning. laundry piled up on the unmade bed. an afternoon packed with errands. rude people at every turn. non-driving mother-fuckers on the road.

you know the kind of day.

while on the last of the errands, i called the bf, asked him what he’d like me to pick him up for dinner, because frankly, i was in no mood to cook. specifically, i said i was too tired to deal with dinner.

this somehow made him smile. i could hear it in his voice. i thought it was odd, but whatever. i went with it. when i got home about an hour later, he greets me at the door, helps bring in the groceries. i set the stuff down, then, i hear it. the washer is going into a spin cycle. which is odd, considering i’d been gone for hours, the load i’d put in before i left should have been done ages ago. so i say, “honey, why is the washer running?”

“oh, ’cause i just turned it on a little while ago,” he says with a grin, “i thought it was great when you said you were so tired, ’cause i’d just decided i should help you out and started the washer right before you called.”

mind you, it’s not that he doesn’t know how to do laundry. he was a bachelor for more years than he was in a relationship. he’s self-sufficient. but the thing is… it’s not like i separate my clothes from his when i do the laundry. so here’s what goes through my head –

ohshitwhatlaundrydidhewash?wasittheloadofcolorsthatcanbewashedinwarmwater-or,no-that’swhatwasintherewhenileft.ohshititwasthedarkcoldwaterloadihopehedidn’t-no,surelyhewasheditincold-hecheckedthelabels…

but what i said was, “oh, wow. thank you! that’s so sweet. ehm, did you happen to wash it in cold water?”

and he goes

so i’m all, “oh… no. i, it’s just… i mean, it was our jeans and stuff.”

and he says, “heh-heh, ehm, sorry.” but at least he didn’t dry that load. i mean, if he’d washed it all in warm, then dried it all on high, well, then we’d have some serious problems. cause you just can’t dry certain thi-

“honey, what’d you do with the stuff that was in the washer before you started this load?”

“oh, i dried it all. it’s in there on the bed.”

and i go

and i can see the look on his face, the smile fading, but i can’t stop myself from asking, “does that mean you dried all my underwear, too?”

and he says, “well, yeah, if they were in there.”

and i go, “nooooooooooooooo…”

and he says, “i was only trying to help. you said that you were tired, and i knew you were before you left, and i just wanted to help out.”

i mean, what can i say to that? i’ll tell you.

i said, “i know. and i really, really appreciate it. and i’m sure everything is fine. and you know what? it doesn’t matter if it isn’t. because you’re an absolute sweetheart. now, sit down and eat your dinner before it gets cold.”

and i smiled. and i thanked him again.

because, seriously? if my friends, and acquaintances, and even hollywood stories are to be believed, men who do things like that for their women are few and far between. and of the occasional ones that do, most of them want a pat on the back or some reward of some kind for their actions. my exes were like that. useless. or, upon doing something like that for a change, pouting if i didn’t sing their praises for the next two weeks to anyone who would listen. but not the bf. he just wanted to lighten my burden.

i love that man.