Why are you the way that you are?

Hola hola,

It's me, your favorite menstrual sociopath soulmate. At the end of my last blog, I told you guys about how my boo thang decided to get drunk instead of taking care of my needs, as we know, that should've been a priority... but it wasn't. Let's go back to 2016, after my surgery, two weeks of house arrest for recovery and spending the last couple of months with someone that didn't really deserve it, I decided to download Bumble (yes, the online dating app) and started swiping away. At first, it was really entertaining and I honestly didn't think something serious would've come out of this but I did it anyway and there I met Ry. What actually caught my eye was that he had a cat in one of the pictures and that he actually asked for a 24-hour extension (if you're familiar with the app you know what I'm talking about), he didn't waste any time and invited me over right away (red flag) and I kindly declined the offer. I did tell him he shouldn't be inviting people over to his house without knowing them cause he didn't know if I was a serial killer, his response was "If it's how I go, it is how I go...". We talked for over a week and decided to meet and it was something refreshing, this guy was crazy about me and wasn't afraid to show it, but there was a catch, I was unable to have sex because of my surgery. It was hard, we're talking about almost three months without sex (not by choice), marathons of Games of Thrones and cuddles (which I wasn't too familiar with). The period cramps after the surgery were hell, I remember one time I was at his house and he drove to my apartment, picked up my heating pad, tampons, and my laundry basket and brought them back; proceed to prepare a hot bath and lit some candles so I could relax, between that and the hormonal disbalance I started crying cause no one ever did that for me. A year and a half later, we're living together, the decision came after realizing that I was spending over seven hundred dollars a month in rent on an apartment that I was never at. I loved that apartment, I love the location, the light through the windows in the mornings, the wooden floors and the liberty of being in my underwear when I wanted to. So, here we are now, we've been together for around fifteen periods, he enjoys playing video games while I'm rolling over in pain, gets mad at me when I tell him that I don't want to hang out with him and his friends cause I feel like shit and doesn't share the fries that he ordered but I didn't crave at the moment when we stop at McDonald's for an Oreo McFlurry. Last night, Ryan was drunk, I was sober and being the emotional roller coaster that you know, characterizes my lady days and we exchanged some hurtful words, I slept on the futon and he texted "I'm sorry" in the morning even though he wasn't sure what exactly went down. My point is, I hate my boyfriend deeply when I'm on my period but that's how I know I love him, sounds completely crazy but that's how it is. Maybe he doesn't like to share his food with me or picks the wrong tampon when I send him to the store (with a picture included) but he makes some killer breakfasts using Adobo Goya (cause it changed his life) to make me feel better and more importantly, lifts me up when I'm feeling like a failure and reminds me that I'm a strong woman and that this is temporary; and to be honest, I wouldn't change that for anything in the world.