Boyfriend season is in! Everyone has one and SO DO I. Kind of. I suppose. Here's the dialogue, post-sex, that led up to it:

BOYFRIEND: We're dating.
ME: No.
BOYFRIEND: Yeah, we're dating.
ME: I'm not into categories.
BOYFRIEND: That's great. We're dating.
ME: Whatever.
BOYFRIEND: So you agree?
ME: Sure.

Moment of silence as we both computed this new reality.

BOYFRIEND: You realize this means you can't have sex with other people.
ME: (as I'm drinking my tenth beer, wearing sweats and socks that don't match) Do I look that motivated to you?
BOYFRIEND: No. (beat) But if you decide to move onto someone else you have to tell me in advance.
ME: Yeah, yeah. It's been awhile, but I'm familiar with how this works.

Then he proceeded to ask me for a hand-job. Kidding. We just zoned out and continued to watch the movie we were watching whilst getting beer buzzed.

Gotta say prior to us formalizing our boyfriend-girlfriend status, this started out as the laziest relationship I have ever been in -- our existence together revolved around drinking beer and gin and tonics, watching movies, eating pizza, hot wings or IN-N-OUT burger and having sex. SIDE NOTE: I swear that's got to be every guy's dream. I'm talking guy guys not men with European sensibilities. Primal man instinct types.

At first when this began, my bitchy judgemental loving and concerned younger sister was like, "You're 31. You can't be doing this." My response, "Yeah I'm 31, as far as I'm concerned this is my last opportunity to be doing this." Seriously, I have the rest of my life to be boring and proper. But if I'm still focused on getting drunk, laid and eating fast food with no other priorities at fifty, then and only then do I give permission to stage an intervention.

I'm actually surprised my "new boyfriend" took the initiative to label our association. I was giving him a free pass. All of the perks with none of the responsibilities of having a girlfriend. I mean the last time I even had a boyfriend, like for real -- must've been prior to that Vegas wedding incident. That almost tainted my love life for eternity. Post divorce, it's like I lost the naivety necessary to give into a semi-serious relationship.

Besides, there's not too many people in the ordinary world who I would expect to tolerate my shit. I don't have a routine, sometimes I eat chocolate for breakfast, I get trash whored drunk when I'm in the mood to get trash whored drunk and I have no social filter. But my new boyfriend guy (I'm so not used to using the word boyfriend) finds my behaviorisms endearing and since we formalized our relationship, our lives have improved. He cooks breakfast (and really well, at that) which has limited the number of mornings I eat chocolate. Though sometimes we eat chocolate afterwards like for breakfast dessert. Aww -- we're so cute. Or disgusting. Since when do eggs and chocolate precede each other? Eww. He should really force me to break that habit. MOVING ON…

We go grocery shopping and we cook (actually he cooks mainly while I watch. Sometimes I pass him ingredients), which means we only eat pizza and trash food sporadically or on special occasions. We've even limited our alcohol binges (and probably replaced them with sex marathon runs -- we reached our peak at 15 times in one night. I exaggerate NOT). And we also embarked on a small artistic project together and started a production company, which we named after our personalities -- JACKASS & PUNKASS PRODUCTIONS.

We're motivating each other to be our best. This whole time I've been defending my single status and I hate to say it, but I'm a better person with a boyfriend. I'm kinder, more sympathetic. I'm way more freaken organized and much more efficient particularly since we seem to fill the gaps in each other's knowledge. He changed my car tire the other day - MAN DUTIES as I call them and I provided quarters for our laundry (Girl Duties). I've also helped him upgrade his slang -- he was using outdated nineties expressions. Like he actually said, Jeepers Creepers, the other day. I pointed out that that's like an old Disney movie swear word and urged him to never use it again. He agreed and he's much more inventive with his word choices now. And apparently he's going to teach me how to snowboard in Colorado, his home state, which worries me a little because if my ability to ski is anything to go by, I may have to be airlifted.

We also made a symbolic mutual purchase - no not a puppy. We can barely take care of ourselves. A bamboo plant, which we named MBE, pronounced like it's written, even though it's an acronym comprised of our initials and his dead dog's initial. Yep, I was even there when his dog was put down and accompanied him to scatter the ashes on a hill top. Not only am I someone's girlfriend, I'm a supportive girlfriend. SYMBOLIC.

We seem to make each other better and I feel more stable and less worried when he's around. I'm less of a crazy bitch, which is to everyone's advantage. I'm not saying having a boyfriend will fix everything because it definitely won't. I still own my pile of issues and he owns his -- and finding a decent partner amongst the pile of leftover A-holes single people out there isn't always the simplest of tasks. But I totally forgot about the benefits of being in a partnership. An effective partnership, that is, because it doesn't always work out that way.

So there you have it -- I have a boyfriend. He's awesome. I'm not ashamed to admit that I am someone's for now. Life is good.