I have a confession to make: I’m no longer single and I like it like that.

Five months ago, I embarked on what I anticipated to be a frightful journey into relationship land. I’d have told you sooner, but I wanted to wait. Nothing is more annoying than a girl who goes on two dates and gushes like a pre-teen from her apartment balcony.

I was afraid I’d get hurt. I was afraid he’d get hurt. I was afraid my single-and-loving-it girlfriends would feel slighted once I started turning down clubbing and martinis for a Netflix night on my boyfriend’s couch. Man, was I was wrong.

Thanks to my inner girl-power sensibilities, I met a good man. Finally.

I could sit here for the next week and tell you about his gentlemanly ways, that every time his fingers lock with mine, I gasp, and that I spend a big, fat chunk of time gazing out my window daydreaming about my perfect little love bubble, but that would probably get old fast.

Contrary to what Sex and the City taught me, being in a monogamous relationship is just as eventful as being single — perhaps more so. Although my new relationship status may limit this blog’s cast of characters, the stories I’ve collected since I started dating this man are no less titillating.

Sleeping home less often can lead to being forgetful of the little things, and a girl’s got to keep herself primped. During a recent sleepover, I found myself needing a cotton swab. Not wanting to disturb the BF from watching what I’m sure was a highly entertaining documentary about planes, trains or space travel from his cozy spot on the couch, I tiptoed into his bathroom and opened his bathroom drawer.

As I reached for a Q-tip, my hand brushed a strange oval object. Hmmmmm … I pulled it out of the drawer and saw the words “Ped Egg” printed across it. I’d heard of this callus-sanding, foot-smoothing tool, but I’d never used one to rub down my own feet. Curiosity got the best of me, so I ran it across my heel.

Ooooh! This little $9.99 foot-filer is exactly why his feet are so fresh and so clean. So smooth and so soft. So touchable and … oops, got a little carried away there. Minus a fresh coat of pink toenail polish and mimosa, I felt like I’d just returned from The Met.

It was time to confront my pretty-footed boyfriend. I tried to be coy, but he saw right through me.

“You have the softest feet of any guy I know.”

“You found my Ped Egg, didn’t you?”

“Of course not. But wait — you’ve got one? I don’t even own one of those.”

“Yeah. It’s in my bathroom drawer. I bought it about six months ago.”

“Where’d you get it and why did you buy one?”

“CVS. I use it because I wear sandals all the time and my feet get scaly and dry … ”

“How often do you use it?”

“Once a month … why are you asking me this? You’re not going to come out in your blog and say you’re dating a metrosexual who uses a Ped Egg, are you?”

“Ha-ha-ha … umm … so would you recommend other men buy one?”

“It makes my feet smooth and I don’t have to get a pedicure and feel like less of a man.”

Well said. And by the way, his name’s Tony.