March 9, 2011
The fact that he said, "I think so, let me check," didn't bode well either. He rummaged around his bathroom cabinet for a bit while I sat on his bed.
I considered my options. The best case scenario would be him bounding into the room with a blue box of Satin Tape. Satin Tape is the Bentley of the dental floss world. I'm pretty sure it's made from a combination of unicorn manes and Miley Cyrus' baby hair. Seriously, it feels like giving your teeth a backrub when you use it. This is my favorite brand and I hoped that maybe he had a box that he swiped from his parents' house or something.
The second option would be him walking into the room with the thin, waxy discount floss that shreds inbetween your teeth and makes your gums bleed almost instantly upon contact. Using it feels like you're asking your mouth to do homework on Sunday night when it'd rather just veg out and watch TV. I hate that kind, but I'd tough it out. It was probably a relic from his old roommate.
The third and more likely option would be that he didn't have any at all and that I'd have to get used to the stray broccoli shard trapped between my teeth.
He came back into his bedroom a few minutes later, frowning. "Sorry. I couldn't find any."
"That's cool. Thanks for looking." Floss request: DENIED. And, that just made me sad.