Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Must be love...

In honour of Valentine's day... ah, ew, no, even I can't fake that. The truth is I just thought of the following blog entry and tried to make some link with the date, but, to be honest I don't care at all about V day.

[As an aside: That last comment was really so predictable when I was single, or even in a relationship but separated by innumerous seas and borders. I honestly thought that I was only kidding myself with that attitude, you know, putting on a brave face while buried knee-deep in so many dozens of other girls' red roses. But it turns out that, even though this year I am not only in a relationship, but also in the same country as my boyfriend on Valentine's Day, I STILL don't care about the date. Sure it's a good excuse to get flowers, but if I have to buy something in return, we might as well order a pizza and call it even.]

So back to the entry:

It Must Be Love.
6 months of living together and I am reminded daily that love is not red roses or chocolates (especially not chocolates... I am allergic). But rather love is shown in all of the following:

Bringing me more toilet paper when the roll has run out.
Letting me drink from his beer when I'm too lazy to go to the fridge to get my own.
Coming running to hold my hand when I am watching old re-runs of the x-files and suddenly scream in terror: "Baby I need you!!"... (and yes, I am fully aware I am pathetic).
Explaining patiently to me time and time again how "the goddamned demon inside my computer" works.
Not grimacing too badly when asked to pass a box of tampons.
Patiently dragging me bodily out of bed every morning while I whine "But I don't wanna go to school today mum!". Yes, every morning.
Not freaking out when I absent-mindedly pick out "names for the children", while stuck in peak-hour traffic in the back of taxis.
Not getting too uncomfortable when I follow him into the toilet to continue a conversation, and sit on the sink watching him while talking about curtains/dinner/work/etc.
Eating vegetarian when I can't be bothered to cook meat for him.
Shouting indignantly on my behalf at waiters when they bring my dessert smothered in chocolate, even though I distinctly told them I was allergic to it (this happens more often than you'd think).
Always, ALWAYS saying my cooking tastes great.
Letting me proudly show people in public the little belly I have cultivated on his previously flat stomach. And reassuring me constantly about the little belly I have cultivated on myself.
Not pointing out when I haven't shaved my legs in two weeks.
Scratching my back on command.
Putting eye ointment into my eyes, despite turbulence, on an airoplane at 30000 feet, simple because my eyes are dry but I can't be bothered getting up myself to use the mirror in the toilet. (In my defence it is not drops, it's a little tube with a scarily pointy nozzle... one air pocket and I would have had an eyeball kebab! Of course I still could have got up to the toilet....)
Not complaining when I begin asking "are we there yet?" before we have even checked our bags.

Yep, must be love.


Dan said...

I have that song from the nappies ad stuck in my head now.


Louise said...

which song? All i've got in my head is "I'm a big kid with my pull-ups... wow!"
Oh, the Must be love song? Isn't that from a tissue box? No, perhaps you're right...

Dan said...

Nope, its nappies... Chubby little kid crawling along in nappies, mum blows raspberry on his/her tummy... Suburban bliss. This is until the nappy is actually opened. They always leave that part out of ads.

Louise said...

yes, for some reason the advertising execs consider baby poo somewhat less marketable than cute baby smiles... go figure!

Liz Yarker said...

Yes... I know I'd MUCH rather change Laura's poo-y nappy than see her smile!

"Patiently dragging me bodily out of bed every morning while I whine "But I don't wanna go to school today mum!". Yes, every morning."
I had flashbacks to the time where mum tried to bribe you to get out of bed and ready on time... I was the only one to benefit from this as I was always ready! Thanks Lou! :-)

Louise said...

Funny, I have no memory whatsoever of mum bribing us to get out of bed on time.... I must have slept through it. I do remember her holding me under the arms and making me walk/dragging me into the shower... and I was at university by then!!

Liz Yarker said...

Yeah... we got 5c for getting out of bed by a certain time, and 5c for getting ready in time. I always got 50c at the end of the week to spend at the corner store (50c went a LONG way then!). I think you managed to get 5c once....