Five signs that you’re DEFINITELY in a long-term relationship

There comes a time in every relationship where the veneer of being lovely and nice just falls to shit, revealing the gross creature that you truly really are. It’s different for everyone, but usually happens around the 8-month mark. You’ve met the parents, you’ve met the friends and you see each other as often as you can.

But the romantic strolls down the Southbank have been replaced with Sundays of binging utter crap on Netflix. The two-course dinners at Cote Brasserie have been replaced by a frozen Tesco pizza. How can you tell if you’re in that space yet where comfortable, has become too comfortable? Well, here are five ways of telling you if you actually have sunken into the comfort of your relationship like a crouton into a vat of melted cheese. 

Un-sexy nakedness

“Paint me like one for your French pastries.”

Whether it’s pulling fluff from your bellybutton after a hot shower, or just getting changed, being naked around your other half gets to a point where it ain’t really sexy anymore. In the first months you know that if you’re naked, some hot steamy sex is going to go down, now if you’re naked in front of your boyfriend you might just be checking out a suspicious mole in the mirror. Strutting around your room naked has gone from trying to seduce your partner, to being a Gollum-like crawl rummaging for clean clothes to wear. Hey, remember when you use to suck in your gut when he saw you naked? That was a fun time, wasn’t it. Now you let him see you living your Jabba the Hutt fantasy, serving skin folds for days. Touch these flabby roles, honey, touch all of these flabby rolls. 


“My house, my rules”

Gone are the days of “whatever you want, honey”. You want to binge watch an awful Australian reality TV show whether he likes it or not. He’s come over to your place, so he might leverage that against you. He made the effort to come to you so he should be given first choice, right? WRONG. You’ve reached a point now where the “oh, I chose last time” days are but a distant memory, and the evening’s entertainment is dictated by whoever gets to the remote first. He wants to check out the latest all action, all cars, all explosions production that Hollywood has shat out, but you’ve sat through one too many of those and you’re DONE. In the words of the undying icon, the Gemma Collins, you’re done playing fucking games.  You’re on the second series of that show where brides-to-be get plastic surgery to please their husbands, and you’re not letting him ruin your sluggish Sunday plans. 

You don’t tidy up when he comes over

We call this one “My Bed”, made by a very hungover us.

It sounds like a simple thing, but it can really speak volumes. Taking just 15 minutes to shove your clothes mountain into a cupboard is all it takes, but you’ve gotten to a point where you no longer worry about him thinking you’re a pig. You try and explain that you’re re-creating a Tracy Emin installation, but he sees right through your bullshit. This usually reaches it’s crescendo when you’re nursing a hangover and you invite him over to take care of you. You’re stewing in a nest of last night’s potential outfits and the McDonalds packaging you ravaged before passing out the night before. You invite him over, fall asleep, then get woken up the knock at the door so your answer in your undies and a sweaty tee. 

Welcome to the Windy City

p.s. how fab is this woman? We’d like to imagine her name is Tracy. 

Also known as your flatulent body. Everybody does it every now and then, and eventually, you have to stop blaming your imaginary dog when there’s a distinct pong in the air. This starts off slow with the ever so embarrassing letting one slip in your first few weeks, then it develops to a shoulder shrug “it happens” approach to the whole thing, but eventually, it reaches a “and WHAT!?” attitude where you let them rip like Beyblades of effluvium out of your butthole. There really is no way around this, especially if you’re living together. It’s an undeniably bad experience for your partner, but the flat that you just keep on cuddling really means something. Just be sure to not let it become a thing. It’s not to be done intentionally, or something to be celebrated. That’s weird, unless you’re both into that… nah, still pretty weird.

Trash talking his friends is okay now… sort of

You’re 100% the one on the far right, complaining to your friends via group text.

Meeting the boyfriend’s friends is always a high-pressure situation. You’re forced together like contestants on a Bear Grylls program and there’s a lot riding on you getting along with each other. For the first few months when you all get together it’s pleasant enough, you all get along, you’re all on best behaviour. Then a few months in… something changes. There’s that one friend where every single thing they do, from breathing to sitting down, annoys you to your very core. You’re invited to gatherings and your first thought is are THEY going to be there. You turn down invitations to group trips because you’ve heard THEY’re coming along. You agree to attend a house party only to come to the horrific realisation that THEY are hosting it. Venting your frustration, you can’t help but share with your boyfriend how their friend is really rubbing you up the wrong way. He then gets defensive, which is understandable because you can’t think of an actual solid thing they’ve done wrong. It’s just them. The best thing you can do is make it an in-joke and hope they don’t find out about it. But still, it’s EXHAUSTING.


Frat bros love kissing other frat bros, study finds