The Puppy post

I'd been hanging out with The Puppy quite a lot. All was pretty fucking cute and sweet, a little drinkey, and quite cuddly. Lots of giggling. 

Gross, right? Yes. 

So on day three of the hang out/make out marathon we decided to watch a flick with the roommates. We ordered pizza, continued to drink beer, and put on the British version of "Stand By Me." He and I agreed on which scenes were funniest, and rewound and re-watched those, howling. And of course we watched most of the movie with our arms around each other. 

I know, I know.

The roommates, who might even have drunk more than we did over the long, long weekend, passed out on their couch as soon as their bellies were full, but The Puppy and I snugged deeper into our couch, engrossed in the movie.

As the end of the movie came near, we both got really into it. I mean, kids with British accents? They get me every time. We leaned forward in our seats: That poor boy! How could his brother do that to him?! Oh no! Watch out for the--! Ouch! Is he OK?!

Then The Puppy kissed my cheek and squeezed me. Aw. I reached over to pat his face, but I brushed my hand against my sleeve first. It was all wet.

"Dude, did you just drool on me?"
"No," he said sheepishly.
"Well what the hell …"

I turned to look at him as he wiped away the last tear.

"Oh my god. You're crying?"
"So? This movie's really good."
"You cried on me."

This was not one little tear, there was a wet spot of some substance on my sleeve.

"Puppy, you cried on me. I'm totally telling the internet."