so we all i am big pile of girly mush deep down. i've hidden it well. the masculine tentendcies and need for power certainly help. but sometimes i just want movie ending gushy kitten cuddles and pretty dresses.
which is why i perhaps didn't make a thing of valentines. 1, it is lame 2, i don't understand it as a holiday and 3, god forbid i did manage to convince myself it is both valuable and the epitome romantic, i'd never live up to my own expectations and that would be pathetic. like stab my own eyes out sad.
so i couldn't really be bothered or disappointed when I opened a hot water bottle.
the hot water bottle is indeed and archaic british thing, and new ones do smell a bit of institutions and clean rubber.
to be fair, as water bottles go, it's cute. if gap made a perky stripey one this is totally it. but they are so old ladyish I felt kind of blah to be honest. (dowdy is a good word.)
but now, a couple weeks later I am here to sing of my conversion.
I take it all back. The hot water bottle is the bestest most romantic valentines gift ever.
lordy, that swashy warm goodness wrapped up in cheerful knitwear on a pms day is the best thing. ever.
Its kind of like when a baby all cuddles into your side like a warm gooey happy thing except that if you roll over, you can't kill it. Plus, I feel gross and unmanagable and completly unfit to be near human life, but the bottle doesn't mind. It just let's me spoon it with it's cheerful pompom ties, radiating calming warmness and watch Persuasion again until the pain goes away.
It wasn't immediate, this love of mine. And it's not always necessary. But when things are bad, and I feel my absolutely worst, it's there to take care of me. soothe away my ickiness and i feel better. It's a rainyday, chips are down, end of the world sort of reminder. And I love it.
Liam is a fucking god.
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