Yes, it’s true. There will soon be another toothbrush in my medicine cabinet.
Last night, before bed, my boyfriend Jeremy suggested he buy a toothbrush to leave at my place.
Now, he already has what he calls his scott evil bag® for when he spends the weekend. In it, he packs a couple of changes of clothes, a towel, various toiletries, sex toys, restraints, lube - you know, the stuff a good weekend is made of.
We always seem to be at the grocery store, or the drugstore, or the video store, or wherever (including our AA meetings) together. How domestic. We’ve even had a spat in the produce section, and I’ve gone schizo on him in the frozen foods section.
We’re going to wear matching Santa hats to a very, very public Christmas party on Sunday. I’m making myself retch, here.
But now… it’s the moment’s-notice-oh-hell-just-stay-the-night-I-know-I-have-to-work-tomorrow-who-cares toothbrush. :eek:
He shall now be known as Mr. scott evil.
::sigh:: Married life, ya know. I see a mini-van and a joint chequing account in the future. 
Yes, there will be a Doper contingent invited to the wedding, but don’t hold your collective breath: we’re still arguing over the china and flatware patterns.
