Ready, set…go!

Ready, set…go!

Hey everyone, Adam here, so when I get ready for anything I do it fast.  If I get home from a long trip, I walk through the door Sierra and I decide where we are eating dinner, I put on a clean shirt and a spritz of cologne and I’m ready.  This is the speediness in which men are ready.  If I’m going on a trip I pack in the morning moments before I leave.  I grab the nearest (clean or dirty) items I feel are prudent for said trip throw them quickly in my bag and I’m off. This may backfire on me seeing as that sometimes I am totally unprepared for said destination or adventure but you know what even then I’m still ready.  I’m a man I’m always ready on time, I’m always ready for anything, I’m always ready.  Short and sweet from my end this week and you know why, ‘cause I’m ready!

Hi…it’s Sierra.  Prepared to write my half of the post showered, in the appropriate ensemble, with a to do list and I did this all in a planned manner.  Why, because I am a woman.  Does he listen to himself?  Sheesh.  We went to visit my sister in Boulder, Colorado in October and you know what Adam forgot?  Pants.  We went to Colorado for three days in the late fall and the man did not pack pants.  How is that ready???  The first time we had date night after I moved to Austin, Adam called me in the afternoon to tell me he would be at my apartment an hour before dinner to get ready there as his dressy clothes were there.  He called twenty minutes after his eta to tell me he would be there in five minutes (which I have since learned in Adam-time is about an hour).  I had at this time already spent a good ninety minutes taking a shower, figuring out what to wear, carefully doing my hair and make up and I still had to accessorize and take the dog out.  This is a very normal routine when a woman gets ready a night out.  So, when five minutes before our reservation Adam had still not shown up, I lost it and called and told him not to bother.  Why should I go through all of this effort if he can’t show up on time?  Since then I have realized that according to Adam, a nice outfit means a somewhat clean shirt and getting ready means walking in the door 5 minutes before we are due to be at dinner.  It drives me insane.  The only thing worse would be if while I was primping myself he hogged the bathroom, got in my way and looked hotter than I did when we were both ready.

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