Storm’s over, people! But for a bit of wind and face-splashing rain, overall subway paralysis, some downed trees, and quite a few nervously damp moments, we seem to have made it! But is your hurricane boyfriend — invaluable in a time of need, obnoxious and by this point a little smelly when all you want to do is drain your bathtub, take a long, hot shower, relax in peace, and watch reruns of Beverly Hills 90210 — still hanging around like a bad penny, eating your granola bars and loafing on the couch with his shoes off? Here’s what to do!
1. Take your hurricane boyfriend outside for brunch, or lunch, or dinner, depending on whatever time you and your hurricane boyfriend finally wake up. Tell him it’s your treat, because he was such a great hurricane boyfriend, like, a really, really supportive, amazing hurricane boyfriend, the kind you could see settling down with for the long haul. While you’re there, excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, and squeeze through the tiny bathroom window to escape. Land in a puddle of mud and roll around a bit, collecting tree branch fragments and leafy green bits about your torso and face. Climb back in through the window and come back out, sit down at the table across from him, and avoid all further questions. The rest, as they say, will be history.
2. Huddle in a corner of your apartment, preferably one without windows, just in case, and weep quietly. When your hurricane boyfriend asks you why, confess in hushed, urgent whispers that your actual boyfriend is a 500-pound shut-in who will be very unhappy to know what happened to his ravioli surplus once he wakes up, in the other room. And that you need money for last night, in small, unmarked bills.
3. Insist on making an itty-bitty-sweetie-weetie-cutie-pootie hurricane baaaaaby with your hurricane boyfriend. NOW.
4. Read your hurricane boyfriend your personal diaries, the age-16-to-age-33 collection. Explain how much they reveal about you, the real you, and how to know you then is to know you now, except now, of course, you’re older and the hopes and dreams you had back then pretty much failed miserably, plus you’re fatter and wrinkled and does he still love you anyway? Do this all in Mayor Bloomberg’s Spanish voice.
5. Dress your hurricane boyfriend up nice, like in a seersucker suit with a cute little red bow tie, bring him outside, and tie him to a light post or some scaffolding, whatever’s handy, with a note that says “Hurricane Boyfriend — No bed bugs!” For better results, cross-post him in a Craigslist curb alert. By morning, he will be gone. If he’s not, pretend not to see him on your way to work. If he’s still there when you get home from work, move.
Maybe, it turns out, despite or because of everything you’ve been through, you actually like your hurricane boyfriend. Maybe he’s turning out to be a real-life bona fide weather-all-storms (metaphorical-and-otherwise) kinda guy. Maybe he can rescue a pig from floodwaters, give you a foot rub by candlelight, and fashion a delectable souffle out of bathwater and margarine and popsicle sticks, all at the same time. If so, hang onto that gem! He’s a hurricane keeper.
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