Today I learned that you should never take your boyfriend to see ANY “50 Shades of Grey” movie, especially if you intend on carrying out this relationship past the doors of the theater. I thought maybe it would just provide him with some light inspiration but Andrew has taken things to new extremes and I can’t keep up.
Quite honestly, I’m exhausted and decently weirded out. Remember that scene in the movie when he takes an ice cube and rubs it around her tits? Yeah well Andrew decided to do that except to my…nether regions…and the ice cubes were made from lemonade so now I have an infection that you wouldn’t believe.
On top of that I can’t go into an elevator without him violently thrusting me against the side of it and attempting to molest my face with his tongue. He does it if we’re alone, he does it if there are 13 other people riding with us. Yesterday he did it in an elevator at the Museum of Modern Art and I think they thought we were an exhibit because when the elevator doors opened no one walked out.
I can’t take this anymore, diary, he’s insufferable. I don’t know how to tell him that taking a bite out of my food is not some innuendo for “find the nearest stall and bang me before someone walks in.” How does Wendy’s even turn someone on? Clearly this relationship has an expiration date.
P.S.: Next Valentine’s Day, I’m buying 50 chocolates and a large pizza from Dominoes.
By: Claire Noyer