Yes, it's romantic, the idea of brushing your teeth at the same time as your significant other. That's how it all pans out in the movies: there's always a scene where the couple would be shown brushing their teeth in front of the mirror, in various phases of cleanliness - I mean, I assume they didn't take a shower at the same time, because this is a romantic comedy and not an R-rated thriller, right?

And one always spits before the other.

I did say it's not an R-rated anything.

Unfortunately, I can't live that picture-perfect life. For one, I don't have a mirror in my bathroom. (And before you say "Niko, you've been living there for three years - have you no fucking ambition?" I actually want a medicine cabinet, and I do not spit out money.) Also, I live with a cat, which makes for some interesting scenarios at certain times of the day.

When I brush my teeth, for instance, my cat looks at me like I'm trying to kill myself. Bonkey would meow loudly at me, once, and then once more, his eyes wide, as if begging me to stop hurting myself. Then again, it's my fault I brush my teeth outside the bathroom. Then again, this is not a big flat, and I live alone, and I can do what I want. But, yes, I did this in my past lives, too.

When I take a shower, he watches dutifully. Well, he tries to, because I am behind a shower curtain and he doesn't attempt to peek through it. And also, most of the time I close the bathroom door when I take a shower, even if it's just the two of us. Yes, I leave the doors open most of the time - Bonkey will want to know why I am closing a door - but I don't want him sniffing around when I am cleaning out his litter box.

I don't close the door when I'm just on the toilet though. (Of course, I close it when I have visitors. I feel I have to reiterate this.) This means he's free to come in and, I don't know, watch me do number two? Often, he would climb up on the water drum that's right across the toilet, and he would start booping me, while I'm seated on the toilet, sometimes while I'm in the middle... of the process. The extrication process, there. I am so, so sorry about that.

There really is no other way to put it, though. This is the closest I'll get now to someone who chooses me. I realized this when I was doing number two, and he walked in and did the same thing on the litter box. As I washed after myself, he began cleaning himself, too. This is it: your rom-com opening scene, only instead of brushing your teeth together... okay, maybe it's not that perfect, but you get the idea.

It's these moments that take the sting off the times when we both disagree. Like, when he has the zoomies and steps on my laptop, specifically my external hard drive, which means the risk of me losing my work - or my place in my shuffle - is huge. Or, when he demands that I go to sleep just because the sun has set, which is before seven in the evening. Or, when he wakes me up at half past three by pushing something down the shelves in the bedroom.

Sometimes, though, he wakes me up in a different way. He would jump on the bed and stand on all four legs on top of me. As I wake up, he would come and rub his face against mine. And again. And again. And then he would move away and lie down on my side, watching me as I try to bargain with the powers-that-be for one more hour asleep, because it's just half past three.

It sounds sweet, I know, but really, all he wants is his dinner.