- The beginning of a relationship is exciting
because it's brand new.
You're both on your best behavior,
it's still electric,
you're not totally sure about
the history of mental illness in each others families.
It's fun.
And the most nerve wracking part of a new relationship,
when you're younger is the first time a boy
comes over to your apartment.
Because it's ostensibly,
like your girlfriend audition time.
Like, you want him to come in and be like:
"Oh, it's so homey, I'd like to stay forever."
And you're like "Yes, come closer."
Like that's what you want.
You try so hard in your 20s, right?
Because you're young and it's fun,
that's your 20s.
In your 30s, no no no.
Your 30s, homeboy knocks on the door,
you open it, you're standing there in combat boots,
nothing else and a garbage can on fire,
you're like "Welcome to Fuckdome, Scott."
Ticket, okay, so.
But it's interesting, 'cause in your 20s,
it's a weird mental game.
Boys coming over for the first time,
you're trying to reconcile
the beautiful home that your mother kept
that you lived in growing up
with the beautiful home that, like,
Pinterest says you're supposed to have.
And the fact that you have no fucking money, so.
You're like "should I buy a rug or eat dinner?"
"I don't know."
Like, it's so hard.
Boys coming over, you are cleaning
like you've never cleaned before.
And it's hard because women, secretly,
are filthy.
No one wants to laugh about it,
like "oh, not me."
And no guys wants to imagine it,
like "no way, my girlfriend's so hot."
Yeah, yeah, you think you got a hot girlfriend?
Check the center console of her car.
(laughing)
She's owned that car for a decade,
it's just, every year, the shit just piles up,
you open that, you're like
"I didn't know an Acura came with a time capsule."
You just shut it.
You open it again, you just hear "Help."
Like there's something in there.
It's our little, filthy, secret stock pile, right?
It's a Now That's What I Call Music CD,
"In case they come back!", yeah,
it's one of those cables that plugs
from the tape player into the CD player,
it's a spilled nail polish,
it's like a little bit of weed dust,
it's a CalGone body spray cause you'd rather
smell like a stripper than weed, right?
It's a lip smackers, Dr. Pepper flavor,
that's just lying there with a gash in the wax neck,
like "Tell my children I died well."
It's an iPhone 4 charger.
It's some McDonald's napkins,
it's a french fry.
Times that center console by a million,
in her apartment.
You are just cleaning with Swiffer
and Brawny, it's like a winter wonderland
of paper towels.
You're just shoving shit under the rug.
Cause you didn't build a shelf,
I don't know how that fucking works.
You're just moving everything,
you take, you put your coats in the over,
burn' em!
I live in LA.
Take everything, you take your cat,
you put your cat in the hamper,
"just for now Marbles,"
"we don't know how he feels about cats."
You're cleaning, you discover new rooms in your apartment,
you're like "how come the water heater gets its on closet?"
Fuck it!
You beg your roommate, you beg your gross roommate,
"please just stay in your room,"
"You're so fucking disgusting."
She's sitting there on a throne of Wendy's wrappers,
like "okay." (chomping)
"But you text me dick pics, hello."
You shut the door,
just cleaning, lighting Glade candles
like it's a fucking Catholic Mass.
You're like "it smells like ham in here!"
You're just trying to make it nice.
He opens the door, you're like "hi."
He walks in, he's like "place is cool."
You're like "fuck you."
(upbeat music)