My boyfriend keeps everything in his pockets. I guess that’s not unusual, since most guys don’t carry purses etc. It’s just always so hilarious to me when he pulls his phone and wallet, a whole cake and a small elephant out of his pockets at the end of the day.
What? How? How was all that stuff in there? They didn’t seem full…you didn’t look like you’d had a poo incident in the front of your pants…then how? Your pants aren’t weird or anything, right? There’s no “false bottom” in them? Is that possible?
How have you been carting all that stuff around all day? And can I have some of your magical powers?
Of course, I laugh at him, because I have no tact. And he may or may not strangle me (or throw his pocket elephant at me) in anger for writing a stupid blog post about his
deformity unusually spacious pockets.
I laugh about it because I think it’s cute. I will never get over the novelty of his Mary Poppins/Hermione bag pockets. I laugh because honestly, there’s no reason to laugh. I shouldn’t be surprised anymore. I know what he keeps in there (elephants, I tell you!), so it shouldn’t be surprising.
I laugh because I laugh at everything, to be honest. I think the things I say are hilarious, I laugh at my own blog posts (way too hard), I laugh at people’s pockets…it’s just what I do.
It makes me wonder, does the novelty ever wear off? I hope not. I’d like to think that I will forever laugh at his pockets, and lots of other worn out and old jokes that we’ve formulated over the years we’ve known each other. Because it seems that as long as I can laugh at him, and he can tease me for it, we’ll always be in pretty good shape.
Leave it to me to turn a post about pockets into a lesson on keeping love alive, or some such rubbish.
But seriously, I always wanted to date someone like Mary Poppins.