It is funny how the same turn of phrase can be different depending upon whose mouth the utterances are forthcoming.
Prior blog entries refer to A, a Shrek look-a-like if there ever was one. He offered to pick me up from the airport after a trip back to see the family. The most unfortunate part of this whole endeavour is that he duly waited at the gate, for no less than 2 hours prior to the plane landing. An action that has "stalker-potential" written all over it. But, that my fellow bloggers is not what bothered me. On the drive home, he imparted stories about his time at the airport whilst waiting for me to be delivered to him. Apparently, he began conversing with some lovely young lady (his description, of course) and she enquired as to his reason for his patient meanderings in such a locale. He replied, and then related this to me, that he was waiting for his "girlfriend". When he expressed this, I believe my stomach wrenched and I was unable to speak.
When my buddy S calls me "girlfriend", there is an irony laced with faux black-American homey accent and all the quasi-cultural reference that it may imply. Although to call him the reciprocal "boyfriend" just sounds a little wrong, although calling him "my bitch" still doesn't quite cut the mustard. But I digress.
Last night, the new beau, B, turned up bearing groceries and the eagerness and forcefulness to expunge me from my own kitchen (a task not easily achieved) and began creating a meal for our repast. Although no Jamie Oliver, he is certainly a dab hand in the kitchen and can impressively wield a knife and season a chicken breast. Whilst feeding me morsels in the kitchen, he commented that the only thing better than lovely food, is feeding your girlfriend lovely food. No stomach wrenching, no homey irony, just a little skip of the heartbeat and a warm inner glow.