Of Lists

a n d

Argyle Sweaters

A/N: I liked writing this story, and I hope you all enjoy it. Reviews are welcome(:

.

There are a lot of things wrong with my boyfriend, Argiston.

A lot.

Like, I'm not even kidding. There are so many things wrong with him. And I know that sounds really hypocritical of me to say that about my own boyfriend when I should be lucky to have him, but relationships are about discovering the traits of others. Is that limited to positive traits? No, I didn't think so. [Insert smart-ass smug.]

Anyways, I figured, since I'm on winter break and I'm bored as heck, that I could compose a list of all of my boyfriend's oddities, faults, etc.

I sound like an awful person.

But see, I asked Argiston first if I could write a list of all of his short-comings and weird traits, not only so that he can become aware of them, but so I can develop my linguistic potential. Because, you know, I kind of want to be a writer one day. Well, maybe; if I feel like it.

Anyways, when I asked Argiston if I could write this list…he slapped me. Actually, no, I'm kidding. He stared at me, said I was the oddest creature he'd ever met in his entire life. Then he laughed and told me to have fun.

You'd best believe I'm going to have fun with this.

/

1) His name is Argiston.

/

Like seriously, I'm not trying to sound like a jerk, but who names their kid Argiston? See, I hypothesized that his parents must have been fighting just before the birth of their baby boy because his mom wanted to name him something stereotypical like Andrew, and his dad was convinced that his son was actually a daughter, so he wanted to name the baby Chrysanthemum or anything remotely crazy.

Argiston laughs when I tell him this.

"Mae," he says, "you really crack me up sometimes."

No shit, Sherlock.

Argiston says that his parents couldn't decide whether to name him Argyle or Augustine, and they wanted something unique, so they kind of took parts from each name and made the name Argiston.

At least Augustine means "great" or "magnificence." I could have dealt with Augustine.

[Plus, Augustine sounds like the name that goes with a sex god. Just saying.]

But Argyle…

Who the heck names their kid Argyle? When I think about argyle I think of sweaters with diamond patterns and sitting by a crackling fire roasting marsh-mellows, not a person. But that's not the funniest part. The definition of Argyle is "breeder." Now every time I look at Argiston I think of him surrounded by his future harem.

"When you prepare for breeding season, do you slip on your comfy argyle sweater and screw the living daylights out of your harem?" I ask him.

Argiston rolls his eyes.

[I know I've won, because he has a freaking argyle sweater in the closet in his bedroom.]

/

2) He cooks better than me.

/

See, I've grown up watching the TV shows where guys can't cook. Not only that, but they burn water they're so bad at it. I'm used to seeing the women in the TV shows gently shove their husbands from the kitchen, saying "you tried your best, honey." That's a euphemism, by the way, the whole "you tried your best, honey" bit. I bet what these women are really thinking is this: "Get your destructive ass out of my kitchen before you blow the house up." They just don't want to sound like jerks, so they tone it down.

Obviously, since all the women in the TV shows could cook, I thought I'd turn out to be this master chef or something.

I was so wrong.

One time, I tried to make Argiston macaroni & cheese for dinner [because I'm thoughtful like that.] By accident I set the timer for 10 hours instead of ten minutes, and almost blow up the oven. In my defense, I could have sworn the box said to cook for ten hours. Its false advertising, it is.

My unfortunate screw up makes it even harder to keep from shouting at my boyfriend whenever he cooks filet mignon [because I'm cheap and have thus never had it] or California rolls [which he makes with his secret ingredient, because he knows that makes me love it all the more.] For God's sake, he bakes triple-decker cakes with caramel frosting on them [just because no one in the entire city makes triple caramel frosting with chocolate & coconut sprinkles and I love it] for my birthday, or chocolate chip cookies that melt in your mouth, or little puffs filled with cream that shoot me onto Cloud 9. He makes me breaded shrimp when I wake up in the middle of the night once a month with a craving for them. He slices steak so thin I can see the juice dripping through, and each piece dissolves when it enters my mouth.

It's absolutely, positively not fair.

/

3) He can say the alphabet backwards.

/

I want to, and I can't.

It makes me angry that he's capable of something so cool. And geeky.

Way more geeky than cool. Like way more.

/

4) He knows just how and when to kiss me.

/

He has this sixth sense about him that knows just when to surprise me with a kiss [and I'm never surprised by anything, so that's saying something]. That's not good, not good at all, because I hate it when he surprises me. It makes him seem like the guy in charge and then I feel like I have to deflate his ego. Not only that, but most people do not like to be surprised by a guy that is this stupendous kisser. So, really, the fact that he's such a good kisser is a curse.

Usually our kisses go something like this:

Me: "How could this happen?"

Him: "Maybe you should sit down and process things, Mae."

Me: "I just don't understand –"

Him: [kisses me until I can't breathe and thus have no energy to rant.]

Me: [wheezing thanks to his inconsideration, shocked] "What was that for?"

Him: [strokes my cheek] "You're beautiful when you rant."

Me: "Then why did you stop me from ranting?"

Him: "Because you're even more beautiful when you just shut up for a second."

Okay, obviously it's not like that every time. Argiston changes up his game plan just so that he can keep me on his feet, the devilish mastermind. He has this way of stroking my cheek and gazing into my eyes as though I'm the most breathtaking girl [woman] he's ever seen. There is something to the gentle way his lips press against mine that calms me down when I'm ranting, fires me up when I'm tired, gives me this horrible little happy feeling in the very pit of my stomach. It hints at the whole "damsel-in-distress" thing, but I let it go because this is us, not a stereotypical couple from a lame fairytale. All of that isn't fair, because it probably makes him feel like a God or something, and we can't have that.

Oh, that brings me to the next item on the list.

/

5) He actually likes those Disney movies with the stereotypical "I will show you the world" crap.

/

Let's cut right to the chase: people have fetishes. They can deny it all they want, but they do.

And my boyfriend's fetish is freaking Disney movies. I mean, at least it's not the Disney Channel, but still.

His has this little tradition that once a month he'll curl up on the couch after popping himself some popcorn and drizzling caramel & chocolate over it [because he's a devilish mastermind and knows that the caramel will lure me over.] Every time, I try to grab the popcorn from him and leave, but he gives me those puppy dog eyes.

Him: "You know I don't like to cuddle up alone. Cuddling requires two people."

Me: "Go get Bob from your room."

Him: "Bob is a stuffed toy panda."

Me: "Pandas are close enough to humans. Besides, you've cried on his shoulder and shared your innermost secrets with him for years. He'll be your best cuddle buddy ever."

Him: "But he's not you."

Then he'll give me another puppy dog look, this one more heartbreaking than the last; he'll keep it up until I groan and plop next to him on the couch. Then he'll cover us with a tan blanket and put on whatever Disney movie his little heart desires. Every time, he falls asleep right before the climax and I pull him so that his head is resting on my shoulder.

I mean, it's not like I enjoy having him drool on my shirt, or look like the most adorable thing I've ever seen asleep. It's not like I enjoy him whispering my name in his sleep and smiling right after, like he's the happiest twenty-year old man alive. I just tolerate him and his fetish, and only occasionally do I chip in and buy him the newest Disney movie for us to watch.

Obviously, I'm just doing it for the popcorn.

/

6) He doesn't know when to give things up.

/

Any normal person would respect a girl's wishes to leave her alone if her cheeks were drenched in makeup and she had that "I'm-going-to-effin-kill-you" crazy look in her eyes. Any normal person might say "I'll be right here if you need anything, just a call away." That whole "just a call away" thing is absolute bull, by the way. Every time I try to call someone after they say that they never pick up their damn phone.

But I digress.

Whenever I'm upset, I tell Argiston to get the hell away from me or I'll butcher him with a knife [and I'm not kidding either.] But then it goes like this:

Me: "I'm going to butcher you with a knife if you don't get out of my house right now."

Him: "You called and said that you needed a shoulder to cry on."

Me: "Um, that's because I never expected you to pick up, idiot. Besides, I did not say that."

Him: "Just give me a hug, Mae."

Me: "I'm allergic to hugs. I swell up like a grapefruit."

Him: [hugs me anyways and because he's so damn nosy I get emotional and cry all over him.]

Argiston has the creepy ability to read minds or something, because he always seems to know what to say or do when I'm upset. He knows just how to hold me [sometimes tight, sometimes like I'm a china doll] and he whispers little nothings in my ear which I'd normally dismiss as corny. But in the moment, they sound nice. He knows just how to look at me when I look my worst, when I'm blubbering like an idiot because I feel like the world's most hopeless inhabitant, and tell me that I'm beautiful. He knows just how to look at me, just how to run his fingertips lightly over my skin until I feel my body burning from his touch. He knows just how to lie me down on the pillows and skim his fingers through my hair, kiss my nose, cheeks, forehead and lips. He knows the words to convince me that he's here to stay.

He's the only boy I've ever trusted not to break me, which is not cool, because I feel way too dependent on him. He's the only boy who's seen me naked. He's the only boy I've ever slept with. He has way too much power over me, and it scares me.

And that, all of that, is absolutely, positively not cool. It makes him even weirder [if that's humanely possible.]

/

7) He's a freak.

/

But I guess this is a good thing, because otherwise he really would have a harem and I'd be left with half a heart.

Sometimes I worry that he's going to get tired of my nagging, tired of my bitchiness, and move on. I worry that he'll find someone else who could probably make him a lot happier than I could. I worry, just sometimes, when he tells me "I love you," he's lying.

Because, you know, no matter how many faults he has, I kind of love him.

He'd better not ever read this list, because then I will butcher him with a knife. I'll pretend it was an accident, flash my sparkling blue eyes at the officers and say that someone broke in and killed the man that I love. After all, I've always been told that with my blue eyes and my ability to act like a house-wife, I could get away with murder.

But, you know, he's supposedly my other half, my soul-mate [whatever the hell they call it now] and some part of me hopes that we'll last.

But only because I love diamond rings [and Argiston's been staring at displays full of them for weeks. I wonder why.]

/fin