T and I had a big blowout last night, which is to be expected after the way we've been tip-toeing around, "handling" each other. There were tears, recriminations, and a funny (now) scene that featured me stalking up the stairs while my half-off bra hung below where my shirt ended.
I had been laying on the couch before the fighting began, and was too tired to take my bra all the way off, because, you know, I'm a lazy git. So I took it halfway off. Hence the hanging undergarments undermining the drama of my marching away from T in a heated moment. Hee. He hasn't mentioned it yet, but I'm sure he was aware at the time, as I was, of my utter ridiculousness.
Luckily, cooler heads soon prevailed and we talked for hours about what has been slowly burning for a month. We lamented the fact that it takes tears and shouting over bullshit to get to the heart of the matter. We apologized. We agreed that needing extra kindness occassionally won't soften our edges- we'll still be badass muthafuckas.
And let me tell you, puffy eyes are a sure sign of just how badass we are, muthafucka.