The Fairer Sex

Traditional wisdom would have it that if my boyfriend and I got sick at the same time he, despite being a big, strong man, would act like a whiny little girl, laying about bemoaning his condition while making me fetch him things like chicken soup and cough drops while I would stoically bear my illness while going about my daily business, all the while managing to look pretty. Not so. While he doesn't exactly make a sinus infection look good, the boyfriend certainly managed to comport himself with more dignity than I have. In the simplest of terms, I got sick and promptly cried like a little girl. I whined that it wasn't fair, blamed him for infecting me, had him fetch me tea and tissues, and visited the health center a record 3 times in six days, begging for something that, if it wouldn't make me feel better, would at least let me slip peacefully into unconsciousness so that I wouldn't wake up every morning a bitchy, tired mess. I'm pretty sure that they hate me now and have probably posted my picture behind the front desk with the caption "Frequent Offender." As such, I have now amassed a pharmacy that would make even the neighborhood CVS jealous. I have acted like I have no shame whatsoever. I even pulled my trusty stuffed animal from the top of my wardrobe to keep me company while watching my 10th or so hour of Friday Night Lights. Boyfriend didn't even complain when the Sudafed that I kept forcing on him made him feel much worse.

Simply put, at least in my house when it comes to being sick, I am not of the "fairer sex." You'll find that that honor goes to the guy coughing next to me.