And by that I don't mean farting or chewing with our mouths open - that's hardly something to complain about if you ask me. What I'm talking about is that point where everything/anything that the other person says isn't SO important anymore.
For example, this morning. I woke up in knots. (Don't know what went on while I was sleeping, but something had me positioned funny.) My back was locked. Even after stretching on my own, twisting and bending and struggling through the 4 yoga poses I actually know, I still couldn't loosen up. I was hurting, and I needed help.
Now, let me explain to you what would have happened were this oh I dunno, say, 4 months ago. Smooth would have been up and google-ing all kinds of chiropractic procedures and stretches that he could perform on me before I even finished saying "my back hurts". He would be catering to me instantly, saying "babe let me get this for you" and "babe let me do that for you". He would be sitting with me, rubbing me, kissing me, telling me how much he loves me and offering me massages four times a day. And I'm not exaggerating. This is how he is, was. Overly protective and sensitive about anything that had to do with me. It's one of the things that made me fall in love with him in the first place... after having to get used to that kind of attention of course (which really isn't that hard).
So, now let me tell you what actually happened this morning. Smooth only got up and out of bed about 15 minutes after I expressed my pain and went straight to ...the washroom. He didn't stop by the living room to check on or attend to my calls of distress (...ok more like moans of frustration, but still). He didn't even come by to kiss me on the forehead like he normally does when we wake up in the morning - yup, something has definitely changed.
When he was out, he still didn't come find me. Instead he went straight to the living room - from where I had since moved to the bedroom to hurl myself onto the bed backwards, head to floor in hopes of somehow stretching out my spine, or something - not even noticing I was no longer there. He turned on sportscenter. and checked his emails. (I'm moaning from the other room louder now, not because I'm hurting more, but because now I'm starting to get pissed off.)
Still, nothing. For like 20 minutes.
Finally he come finds me. I'm sprawled out, head on the floor, feet by my pillows, twisted into the strangest shape... and he begins to read me a series of tweets tweeted back and forth between Nikki Minage and Kloe Kardashian saying how funny they are.
That's it. That's all.
He's back on the couch. Apparently, I'm invisible. My pain and discomfort no longer mean anything to him.
Okay, maybe I'm being a bit dramatic, maybe. But I'm also being honest. We are officially "comfortable", and I hate it. I hate that my mere presence no longer commands his attention. That just looking at me doesn't make him smile for no reason anymore. That other things find room in his head despite my being there.
I dread this point. It scares me. Mainly because this is where my last relationship ended. Only, I was him.
...then again, I'm probably just overreacting. Every couple has bad days.