It’s 10:30 on a Saturday morning, and I’m ready to start the day. I go to wake up my boyfriend, Tyler, gently pushing on his chest.
“Honey, it’s time to wake up. Let’s go!”
He grumbles and grunts, rustling the sheets and not opening his eyes.
“Sweetie, wake up!”
I shake his shoulders very slightly, just enough to slightly rouse him.
Still asleep, he turns over to face me and just slightly lifts his head up. Without ever opening his eyes, he brings his fingertips to his chin, palm perpendicular to his body, and his thumb tucked in. He then collapses onto the bed and lays there, almost lifeless.
For people that don’t know sign language, what he just said to me was “bitch.”
I sat in bed with my arms crossed, giving him the dirtiest look I possibly can, even if he can’t see it. I play games on my phone, waiting for him to wake up.
He finally wakes up over an hour later, and I stare sternly at him, with my lips pursed and my brow scrunched.
“Excuse me, Tyler. Do you remember what you said to me this morning?”
He looks at me, confused. “No, what did I do?”
I cross my arms and tell him, “You called me a bitch in sign language.”