Folks, today, love is in the air; along with mind-numbing humidity and extreme UV rays.
Now, you may be surprised to know this (but not as shocked as my own Long Suffering Wife would be), but really deep down, I’m a bit of a romantic.
I’ll never be a kissing on the beach under the moonlight, or, handing out bits of colourful shrubbery, type of bloke, because it’s not something I do; that, and listening to pop music.
I’m a practical person, so it’s easier for me to demonstrate love, rather than say it. Occasionally, Long Suffering Wife will mutter, “Tell me you love me!”, and I’ll automatically reply, “Well, I’m still here aren’t I?” which usually goes down about as well as a liver flavoured milkshake.
On one memorable occasion I said, “Hey, look at what I do each week so you can enjoy this luxurious suburban lifestyle! I’m not out there lifting heavy stuff in the heat for my own health! Also, do I not risk permanent scarring, facial disfigurement, and possible blindness, cooking you fatty bacon every Sunday morning?!”
This lead to a long period of silence, but we got over it; eventually. We usually do. These days, Long Suffering Wife rarely utters the phrase, ‘I’ve been thinking about our relationship…’, and I’ve stopped pestering her for a jet-ski.
Somehow, it works. Lots of people are like this. My aunt and uncle would have some eye-poppingly, raucous arguments, and just after we’d finished hiding the cutlery, or anything else that could be used as weapons, we’d find them sitting on the couch, holding hands, happily watching tele. It did my head in, but now I understand; sort of.
I used to think real love was when one of you passes wind and the other person doesn’t run gagging from the room (boy, I remember the first time Long Suffering Wife did that to me!), but, after much thought, and several beers, I reckon that true love is wanting to grow old with someone, in spite of the things they do that drive you nuts.
Every. Single. Day.