Things are going well. You like her. She likes you. She spent the night. You called her the requisite six or eight times the following day.
But you and I know, you've only got another week to 10 days before you start screwing up. It's inevitable. You won't fight it.
First, you'll go ahead and order that food you and I know you should never eat if you're planning on living among people within the next 48 hours. Be it beans or broccoli, cabbage or peas, you'll order it up the next time you take her out to eat.
That night, shortly after going to bed, you'll politely excuse yourself so that you can fart on the back patio or in the foyer, then you'll dance around hoping that it escapes you. But you have to sleep sometime and that's when your ass tells her about a whole different side of you.
Second, she'll want you to meet her parents and you're all for it. Not a bad thing, right? Well, it is if your main intent of this meeting, even if it's subconscious, is it make it overly obvious with your body language that you've already boned their daughter. Your arm is around her hip, as you're all talking you pull her close to you and kiss her neck. Meanwhile, Dad is getting sick to his stomach and his daughter knows it. Cuz you're being slimy and gross.
Third, you like to talk and, well, there won't be many awkward silences in that week to 10 days, but there sure will be a lot of awkward ramblings of yours because you can't stop talking about your ex-girlfriends. What they cooked, what they wore, how much you and they drank, how they smelled. You mostly tell her all this because your ego thinks she should know that there was pussy before her, so she best be happy as a lark that you settled on her goods.
Only she won't be happy. Or impressed.
And you'll be ordering take-out by yourself for awhile.