Over Waffles
Daniel and I had a conversation this morning that I feel must be posted for posterity:
So we were sitting at my kitchen table after breaking our fast and the sun was actually showing its face for once and very nicely illuminating my table. I was gazing at my reflection in my cereal spoon, fiddling with my currently-chocolate, kinda shaggy hair and thinking about hair dye. Daniel caught sight of me while taking a sip of his coffee.
"Popslut." He joked, chuckling. I glanced at him wide-eyed and then made a face.
"Think I should go back to blond?" I asked, trying to think of it with my current hairstyle
"Whatever you want, long as you don't try curly again." He replied without a pause, leafing through a music magazine.
"What do you mean? You didn't like my gorgeous ringlets?" I adopted a mock-hurt tone.
"They didn't suit you." He said, matter-of-fact. My eyes went wide again and I stared at him.
"What, you've suddenly become this fashion expert? Been secretly writing for Vogue, have we?" I scoffed. Daniel looked up at me, expression unruffled.
"Have you ever seen me wear anything that didn't suit me?" He calmly challenged. I sat quiet for a few seconds, thinking about it. Damn him, he was right; he wasn't prone to the same sartorial blind jumps that I am. I mean, there are photos of me in a kimono-style robe for goodness sake! And no one say a word about that shirt that time! I was on DRUGS, people!
"That's because everything you wear is goofy, just like you." I finally replied, acting like I had my nose in the air.
"Says the man who once had porno hair." Daniel shot back with a grin, eyes crinkling slightly. I gasped and waved my spoon at him threateningly.
"You wound me!" I exclaimed then poked my tongue at him. Daniel just chuckled, stood up and rolled up his magazine to whap me on the thigh as he left the table.
Cheeky sod.
-D
So we were sitting at my kitchen table after breaking our fast and the sun was actually showing its face for once and very nicely illuminating my table. I was gazing at my reflection in my cereal spoon, fiddling with my currently-chocolate, kinda shaggy hair and thinking about hair dye. Daniel caught sight of me while taking a sip of his coffee.
"Popslut." He joked, chuckling. I glanced at him wide-eyed and then made a face.
"Think I should go back to blond?" I asked, trying to think of it with my current hairstyle
"Whatever you want, long as you don't try curly again." He replied without a pause, leafing through a music magazine.
"What do you mean? You didn't like my gorgeous ringlets?" I adopted a mock-hurt tone.
"They didn't suit you." He said, matter-of-fact. My eyes went wide again and I stared at him.
"What, you've suddenly become this fashion expert? Been secretly writing for Vogue, have we?" I scoffed. Daniel looked up at me, expression unruffled.
"Have you ever seen me wear anything that didn't suit me?" He calmly challenged. I sat quiet for a few seconds, thinking about it. Damn him, he was right; he wasn't prone to the same sartorial blind jumps that I am. I mean, there are photos of me in a kimono-style robe for goodness sake! And no one say a word about that shirt that time! I was on DRUGS, people!
"That's because everything you wear is goofy, just like you." I finally replied, acting like I had my nose in the air.
"Says the man who once had porno hair." Daniel shot back with a grin, eyes crinkling slightly. I gasped and waved my spoon at him threateningly.
"You wound me!" I exclaimed then poked my tongue at him. Daniel just chuckled, stood up and rolled up his magazine to whap me on the thigh as he left the table.
Cheeky sod.
-D