So there's that moment.
When you have to use the bathroom at your guy friends' apartment, and you're like ew. Just ewwww.*Shiver*
No Brooklyn, it's okay, they're boys. Boys just do, they don't analyze spaces. Boys are messy. No big deal.
But then you realize, oh my goodness. I'm marrying one of these someday. And that means live in the same proximity thereof.
So conclusion:
Boys (or messy people): ask your mother if you're rather messy, and if so, enhance your bonus points enormously by working on it in the name of love.
Girls (or fellow anxiously OCD people): take a deep breath and calculate priorities. Messy rooms are not rebellious backlashes of evil laughter. They are humane occurences.
Wishing you peaceful, strong, responsible and passionate love,
Brooklyn
But then you realize, oh my goodness. I'm marrying one of these someday. And that means live in the same proximity thereof.
So conclusion:
Boys (or messy people): ask your mother if you're rather messy, and if so, enhance your bonus points enormously by working on it in the name of love.
Girls (or fellow anxiously OCD people): take a deep breath and calculate priorities. Messy rooms are not rebellious backlashes of evil laughter. They are humane occurences.
Wishing you peaceful, strong, responsible and passionate love,
Brooklyn
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