Jack and Jill sitting in a tree…

The theory of the evolution of a relationship.
So I’ve been in a serious relationship 3 times and I’m beginning to spot a pattern. Three different times, three different guys, three different situations but basically this is the main rundown:
At first (a time span usually ranging from month number one to four, depending on frequency of sex), a normal conversation is:
– Hey, this song, it’s totally how I feel about you.
– What? Blondie’s ‘Denis’?
– Yeah. Cheesy huh?

– Awww. Naaah, it’s so sweet (literal physical swoon of the body, if appropriate and not prone to minor incidents such as knocking over the ceramic vase his father made for him when he was a kid, is tolerated).

Or sometimes it goes like this:
– Aw man, I really need to get to the bank before 3.
– Yeah? Let me give you a ride.
– Hey thanks, you. You’re swell.
– I know right? Give me a kiss. (the occasional ass pinch is tolerated)
This is called the period of the pathetic giggle and heart-stopping lulls.

Then after all the stock jokes are through, the appreciative smile muscles start to wear out, and the stomach butterflies start to perch quietly one by one, bodily functions is no longer a taboo and this becomes a normal scene from the archives of the daily dialogue of a couple:
– *fart* Oops, haha.
– Ohh that’s gross (endearing giggle here)
– Oh shut up. As if your farts smell like hot cinnamon rolls.
– (laugh appreciatively, preferably while initiating physical contact)

When the six month period is through, and his endearing incidents start to morph into annoying habits, remember the stomach butterflies? Well they’ve stopped fluttering altogether and spend all day lazing around having coffee and watching serial DVD’s while getting stoned on hydro-grown nectar.
At that time, this following nature of conversation is usually what hammers your eardrums on a regular basis:
– I can’t find my glasses. Where are they?
– (shrug) How the hell should I know?
– Fii-ine. Chillax, dude. I was just asking.
– No, you chillax. Stop being defensive.

– I wasn’t being defensive. I was just…(insert diplomatic explanation here)
The above conversation will probably continue and will last for quite a while without any actual objective or solution. The glasses will remain missing. The above dialogue is repeated every week, with a variety of missing objects substituting the glasses.

And the “take me to the bank” conversation has transformed into something like this:
– Aw man, I really need to get to the bank by 3.
– Okay. Take care.
– Um. Wanna take me?
– Sorry, can’t. I have to watch our laundry dry so one-horned rhinos don’t steal it from our backyard. Reeeally busy day. But you better leave now if you want to make it. Oh look! The Amazing Race Asia is on! Man, I’m totally rooting for those two bodybuilder lesbians from Chiang Mai, they’re totally on top of their game. Totally.

Bodily functions have, at this point, become a regular thing and both individuals have become blasé with it. The giggles and cinnamon-roll-smelling-flatulence jokes are no longer present and are replaced with a bored silence.
– *fart* Oops sorry.
– (After 4.7 seconds of silence) Oh, I saw James the other day. He lost weight.
– Uh huh. (silence) I gotta shit.

From here on, everything is downhill. The sex gets old and practical. Conversation turns stale. There is more enthusiasm in just one episode of Dora the Explorer than a whole week of said conversation. You start shaving just once a week and nobody but you notices.
But even though this pattern is always repeated, is unstoppable and is horribly inevitable, couples everywhere are still staying together; some have even taken this self-inflicted masochism to a higher level by getting married. Why? Because in-between the conversations I’ve listed up there, sometimes a miracle occurs and the following dialogue ensues:
– I love you.
– Ditto.
– I want to spend the rest of my life with you.
– Hahaha, careful what you wish for. I would make a horrible wife. I can’t cook.
– You can make scrambled eggs.
– Well yes. That and toast.
– Then I’ll have eggs and toast everyday for the rest of my life.

So basically, all human beings just want to have the freedom to pick their nose in front of someone else without being judged. Everybody longs for the tummy butterflies, and the butterflies are always exhilarating, but in the end, it’s the comfort of the cocoon that keeps us alive.

Tags: butterflies, love, relationships, sex