Irritated BBQ Rant

Last night, the Boyf and I hosted a BBQ for some friends of ours that we love. I think that it all went well. We had salmon and a variety of appetizers, but really for me, it's about the company. I myself enjoyed the convo and warmth. Zamboola was there, so it can't really get better.

Anyhow, the Boyf annoyed me. He didn't do anything, but his occasional social awkwardness can be obnoxious. And he really has to learn how to tell time. Earlier in the afternoon, I felt like I was dating an autistic faggot. He spent hours cleaning the bathroom which is fantastically hygienic of him, but his obsession meant that I had to run to the grocery store, come back home, marinade the salmon, run to the liquor store, flower shop, convenience store, set up the evening with his limited equipment and pull it all together. And he was still cleaning the washroom after all that. Unless he has a new medical condition that I am not aware of, there was no need for that attention to detail and it drove me nuts. The bathroom was fucking clean and we weren't having a buffet in the bathtub.

I in no way was panicking about the evening, but things need to get done and when guests are arriving in 20 minutes, it's generally a good idea to have at least, oh I dunno, a napkin ready. When our friends did finally arrive, we were OK, but the Boyf's social weirdness meant that he would make random appearances interspersed with retreats into the house. Annoying, embarrassing and weird. Although we had a beautiful evening, I seriously wanted to throw him onto the barbecue and compost him. And I might just do that.

To mes amis: you are my emotional amants. To the Boyf: shhhh.