subscribe
/ Sign Out

Belching after six months: the relationship timetable for all your worst habits

NOBODY can lie forever, but new relationships are delicate. Follow this timetable to gently introduce your new love to the real, disgusting you: 

Two months in: rearranging

At this early stage in the relationships clothing is still selected for aesthetics rather than comfort, so inevitably adjustment is needed. After two months shifting your clackers to one side, retrieving thong from arse-crack or settling a boob back in becomes acceptable and even intimate.

Six months in: belching

You’re eating a lot of meals together, at her place or your place, you’ve weathered some ups and downs, and it’s time to admit you both burp. Discreetly and cutely behind a hand at first, openly and loudly after a few drinks. It’s fine, it’s not like it’s farting.

One year in: farting

If you’ve made it to a year, it’s time for the big guns. You’ve both suffered holding wind in, you know each other inside out, your sex life is already skipping weeks so why not? Make an occasion of it and go out for a fancy meal, kiss on the steps of the restaurant, then pull each others’ fingers and let rip.

18 months: Eating from the bin

You’re more or less living together now, so show off your sustainable green side by snacking on leftovers straight from the bin. A quick blow over the surface should refresh even a day-old half-eaten pizza slice. Justify your actions by explaining the five-second rule does not apply to the bin, as the food never touches the floor.

Three years: Pissing in the sink

If she’s spending too long removing make-up, why not? After eight cans of lager the sink is just a wide-mouthed urinal for the tall. Run hot water down afterwards and it’s clean as a whistle. Girlfriends will accept it unhappily because they’ve provably pissed in the shower.

Five years: Self-pleasure

Married by this point, or in posession of kids or at least a dog, you’re openly indulging in activities you hotly denied just four years earlier. Whether she finds his porn history or he stumbles across a carelessly discarded dildo, you’ve no secrets anymore. Frankly it’s their business, the repulsive belching, farting, bin-eating sink-pissing wanking twat.

Kickers, and other contraband school uniform you wore to look hard

FORBIDDEN by the authorities, inspected by teachers, these were the uniform of the playground’s top dogs: 

Kickers

There’s a fine line between Clark’s and Kickers, but that red or green tag meant you were in your comprehensive’s VIP area. All the bullies had them so it was like gang colours more than branding. Made you the first choice for a passed football even if you were shit at football.

Hoodies

A hoodie peeking from under a blazer has so much nonchalant attitude you might as well be Kurt Cobain, and teachers were hard for for confiscating them which was radical and hilarious. Chewing your way through the armholes made fingerless gloves to bat away the long line of suitors you had wet dreams about but were too scared to approach.

Short skirt

You were the renegade every girl wished they were just by rolling and clipping above the legal limit. It gave you carte blanche to use the word ‘bitch’, got you fags, made you the subject of graffiti and scared middle-aged male teachers. Even if it secured daily detention, it’s what Regina George would’ve wanted.

Earrings

Nothing says gritty bling like a stud of plastic. Pop one in and you’re fresh out of a Danny Dyer movie, ready to knock a mug spark out. One ear was flashy. Two was outright revolution, even though you’d cried in Claire’s Accessories and the three-year-old in front of you hadn’t.

Leather jacket

Everyone that watched Grease, which was everyone, knew this turned your mountain bike into a Harley and your sneers dangerous. It was your dad’s old jacket, it was too long and you looked like a knock-off Blade, but the school must have been terrified you were armed with a motorbike chain and a vicious grudge attitude because Miss Huntley just laughed.

Various hats

Baseball cap equals rapper, even if you’re at best a human beatbox. Beanies served a dual function, making you look like a badass drug dealer while hiding greasy hair that smelled like masturbation. Both could be snatched away by The Man, allowing you to prove your rebel credentials by saying ‘Aw sir, my head’s cold now.’

Next story ›