Mitch is so in love with me. You know how I know that? Because he skinned his knee the other day and, knowing my love of picking scabs, cultivated the perfect pickin' scab, and this morning he let me pick it. He whined and flinched and cried like a baby, like I was ripping duct tape off his eyeballs, but he didn't stop me. He did all that just for me. I would much rather pick a good scab than get a dozen roses, and Mitch knows that. THAT's true love.
My sister told me once that in the dating world there is a concept called "The jar of scabs." Imagine you are in the bathroom of someone you just started dating. You are snooping. In the medicine cabinet you find a jar full of.... something....what is that?...Bacos?...raisins?....Oh my god... it's scabs. This is something your date never wanted you to know about, or at least not yet. It's his literal jar of scabs.
Everyone tries to hide their most disgusting habit; their metaphorical "jar of scabs," if you will. You can't let your dates know that you, for example: wipe your boogers on the underside of your end tables, or smell your ear wax, or eat when you're on the toilet; until they are so invested, and are so crazy about you that if they ever find out about it, they have no choice but to ignore it. It just turns out that my "jar of scabs" is actually scabs. I don't keep the scabs or anything. After the scab is picked, I don't want anything to do with it. I just like picking them off. Boy, I'm really saying scab a lot in this post, scab scab scab.
Anyway, Mitch knows about my jar of scabs (metaphorical! I already told you I don't keep them! Gross!), and although he is disgusted by it, he knows what it means to me, so he was sweet enough to carefully cultivate a perfect scab for me to pick, even though it grossed him out, even though it literally hurt him to do it. So, thank you again, Mitch. I love you too.
What is your jar of scabs?
FYI: I typed "jar of scabs" into Google images. There were 54,000 results. Do NOT google "jar of scabs."
My sister told me once that in the dating world there is a concept called "The jar of scabs." Imagine you are in the bathroom of someone you just started dating. You are snooping. In the medicine cabinet you find a jar full of.... something....what is that?...Bacos?...raisins?....Oh my god... it's scabs. This is something your date never wanted you to know about, or at least not yet. It's his literal jar of scabs.
Everyone tries to hide their most disgusting habit; their metaphorical "jar of scabs," if you will. You can't let your dates know that you, for example: wipe your boogers on the underside of your end tables, or smell your ear wax, or eat when you're on the toilet; until they are so invested, and are so crazy about you that if they ever find out about it, they have no choice but to ignore it. It just turns out that my "jar of scabs" is actually scabs. I don't keep the scabs or anything. After the scab is picked, I don't want anything to do with it. I just like picking them off. Boy, I'm really saying scab a lot in this post, scab scab scab.
Anyway, Mitch knows about my jar of scabs (metaphorical! I already told you I don't keep them! Gross!), and although he is disgusted by it, he knows what it means to me, so he was sweet enough to carefully cultivate a perfect scab for me to pick, even though it grossed him out, even though it literally hurt him to do it. So, thank you again, Mitch. I love you too.
What is your jar of scabs?
FYI: I typed "jar of scabs" into Google images. There were 54,000 results. Do NOT google "jar of scabs."
OMG ENOUGH ALL READY!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ReplyDeleteI feel sick.........
Everytime you said scab I threw up alittle in my mouth....gah....yuck. and Idk what my "jar of scabs" would be... something to think about I guess.
ReplyDeleteYou guys, its not about the scabs. It's about the love.
ReplyDeleteBetter scabs than scabies.
ReplyDeleteNo doubt!
DeleteWhat she didn't tell you is, after she piked the scab she placed it between her front teeth and gently 'nibbled' it while making a low MMMMmmmmmm sound -- yuck
ReplyDeleteNo I didn't. Don't ruin the hazy glow of live, Mitch.
Delete