Jimmy Staid, web designer [The power to make anyone bored of anything.]

I'm Jimmy and I'm boring as fuck.

"Jeez, Jimmy." Elbow nudge. "Why can't you be fun for a change?"

Yeah. Fun.

If not wanting to play Mario Kart for the fifth time or go out to the movies to be pigeonholed into buying overly priced popcorn or playing tennis (in the flesh) in some overly paved country club is 'boring', then hell, don't tell me what you call having a 9-to-5 job.

Which is not to say Heather didn't. She did. She just enjoyed it. Like always.

I don't know. Maybe it was me. Stick in the mud and all that.

Heather was my girlfriend of about 5 and a half months now. Crazy we were still going at it, but, in the same time, not really. After all, we did decide to give it a go. Must have been crazy to do that.

I may not be a traditionally fun guy, but ironically enough, I was still a traditionally sleazy one.

Case in point -- my girlfriend was hot, and I regularly ogled her when she wasn't privy, like many in my position would.

One thing I liked about Heather: she kept her lower half in very good shape. She played tennis, went jogging, and exercised regularly. Despite that, her body was balanced out; aka, her butt was fit, but also shapely and tight. Nice and bubbly. Good to clap. Well-formed legs.

And somehow it was mine, in a sort-of way. Who would've thought?

Capping it off was the fact that she was a bit of a nerd too. Something some self-designated smart tongued kids elected to call me throughout my grade school years, myself. I don't know if I really fit that classification. I rained the parade for everybody eventually -- even my so-called fellow 'nerds.'

"Fun?" I took a chip, staring at my hand. Damn. Nothing. Time to stall, futility be damned. "I'm always fun."

"HAHAHAHA, uh, yeah, suure you are Jimmy. No offense, but you can be a bit of a bore." The girl looked at me and provided her version of a caring smile. Did I mention she could be pretty blunt? Not that I minded much. I was the same. Some could say that's how we clicked.

As Heather peeked over her own fan of cards, she smiled. Devil's lips, I swear. "You're out, aren't you?"

Glaring at the hazelnut-haired girl, I laid down my cards and sat back against the foot of the couch while she peered below and cheered, stretching out her legs.

A few minutes later, while she was putting the cards away, I turned on the TV. "You know what's a bore? Gin rummy."

I waited for her to reply, only to be met with nothing but the sound of B-roll footage as I skipped to the next channel. "What? Got no comeback for that one?" As I looked in her direction, I found her gazing down at the card case with a frown.

"...hm," she stood up before putting the cards back behind a drawer by the hallway, "that was a pretty dry session, now that you mention it."

"What? You seemed pretty happy with the results."

"I was! But, well," she shrugged. "I don't know. It was really... forgettable. Gin rummy in general, I mean, it's just..." She suddenly broke into a yawn. "Oh man, I'm, like, getting sleepy just talking about it." After a second of lethargy, she shook herself back awake, eyes snapping open. "Anyway, forget gin rummy, let's change the topic! Anything good on TV?"

I finished staring at her through my eyeglasses and returned my gaze to the sloth slinking his way towards the camera on-screen. "Yeah, some lazy bastard."

Heather giggled at my verbal **** of the animal and cuddled up next to me. A half hour of National Geographic later, I watched her in silence as we both began to doze off. By 10 o'clock, she had to leave, get back to her studio, since she and her fellow roomies agreed on a semi-curfew thing, or whatever they called it. We kissed goodbye as she stepped out the door and I watched her leave in those black, form accommodating yoga leggings.

A few days later, when we were able to line our schedules up again, she and I were back at my apartment. She had just been through her own revelatory epiphany, and at its center: indoor skydiving.

"Come on, we have to try it!" She spun around to face me. Currently, she was in a puffer jacket and tight dark blue jeans.

"Heather," I sighed behind a glass of Sprite, "you're a thrillseeking freak, you know that? I'll be honest, I didn't. Now I do. Explains everything."

"Oh shut up." Heather hopped up from the couch, flashing me her phone. "SEE? Doesn't that look, like... fun!?"

"Not really." Looking up from the video of the hobble of teens cracking up at a hysterically squealing middle-aged woman falling from a great height, I saw Heather's flat eyes staring back. "What?"

With a cross look on her face, she returned her rump to the sofa. Phone over face. I sighed. She was such a child sometimes. Pretty. But theatrical.

I came over and took the space next to her. It flattened softly at my lowered body. "What?" I repeated. "You don't want to play cards? How about gin rummy? That was pretty fun."

"No, it ISN'T." Heather glared at me. "It's boring and very-much-NOT-fun thank you!"

Baffled, I rose my head from my hand. "You love gin rummy! You've always loved it! That's why we played it this Tuesday!"

A yawn broke her lips apart as she slumped down along the couch. "Anyway, let's talk about something else."

Defeated, I sighed and slunk myself as well. "So. No cards?"

I detected an airy pause. Then, she spoke. "I mean... I guess we can..." She cast an eye to the carpet. "Just not... that."

"No, no, it's okay," I relented, giving her a strange look. Clearly, she had an overnight growing-out phase that I didn't even think was in her. "I don't want to **** it if you're not in the mood."

After a second of thought, I slapped my knee.

"Alright. If you want to try indoor skydiving, then let's try it on the weekend. Deal?"

Sitting up, Heather smiled and took my outstretched hand. "Deal!"

A brief kiss was exchanged. The deed was done. I'd regret it later, probably. But at the end of the day, Heather liked spicing things up, and I liked to keep things in check. It was all a delicate tug-of-war and that's -- well. Call me backwards, but I guess that's what made it 'fun.'