I had been dating my boyfriend for about a year when I decided to bring over an alarm clock. I wasn’t moving in, per se, but I was staying over enough nights to require a proper waking each morning.
It was a simple enough process, really. I moved the night stand on my side of the bed away from the wall an inch or two and threw the cord behind the table. I wasn’t able to reach the outlet by just standing there so I laid down on the floor to reach the plug.
Not surprisingly I had to reach through an assortment of dust bunnies and change to connect the plug to the outlet. What was surprising, though, was the presence of a yellow scrunchy. Maybe it was more like an elastic, but either way, it was not mine.
In walks the BF and I throw the soft hair tie his direction asking who the other woman is. He laughs and I laugh knowing that there is no other woman. I know this because of the dust bunnies and because no one has worn a yellow scrunchy since the 90s… or at least I hope so.
My concern changed. I don’t think he’s seeing someone else. But what kind of woman was he seeing before me? The kind of woman to wear a yellow scrunchy?
Was she a fashion imbecile? Was she an athlete? Was she 20 years older than me?
I never got an answer. My boyfriend couldn’t stop laughing long enough to answer my questions.
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