I could go on, and on, and on about the aesthetic attributes of the big guy. From his 6′ 6”, 250 lb frame, to his pale blue eyes, cheeky grin and shaved head, that when he lets it, sprouts dark coloured, natural corkscrew curls (git.!), to his naturally curly dark beard that turns ginger down the centre, and only the centre. But, I’m not going to do that. 😉
I thought I’d tell you about the things that make me happy, and make him the one man I want to spend the rest of my life with. (Yes, okay, go grab your sick bags, I’ll wait…) 🙂
- He is not dramatic in any way. He’s so laid back, he may as well be horizontal. Nothing is a big deal, and every problem can be resolved, regardless of how long it takes. I was married for 19 years to a guy who made a massive drama out of everything.! Having man-trums, slamming about yelling, stomping and punching walls and doors. To call life stressful would be the understatement of the year.!
- He is minimalistic, neat and tidy. If it’s not necessary, it doesn’t get bought. If he doesn’t really want it, he doesn’t buy it. Our home is a haven to minimalism, no mess, no clutter, no stuffed shelves, and piles of ‘stuff’ anywhere. Everything has a place, and it gets put back every time he uses something. It’s bliss.! After spending those 19 years living in houses that got filled more and more with junk, clutter and needless stuff, I became suicidal and was diagnosed with OCD. I had developed it through the stress of living in homes that resembled obstacle courses, and the mental anxiety of knowing I could do nothing about them. I still have OCD, and I still get anxiety attacks, but over completely different things.
- He doesn’t socialise with his work colleagues. His work relationships stay at work. Nobody he works with is a part of our small social circle. He goes to work ‘do’s’, and if he sees a work colleague when we’re out he’ll go and say hi.! and occasionally introduce me, and tell me who they were, but he never encourages or invites anyone to join us or to come over to ours for the evening. I lived with the British Army for 10 years, and was expected to be openly friendly with, and socialise with, everyone on base. We were expected to be one big happy, supportive family. I hated it.! I hated the gossiping, the back-stabbing sniping from other Army soldiers and their wives. I hated the expectation that when someone decided they were going to have a barbecue with you, and knocked on your door on a Saturday morning, pulling their barbecue behind them, and with arms laden with bread, burgers, sausages, spareribs and salad bowls, you would happily greet them with enthusiasm and waste no time in setting everything up, and offering your crate of beer. I hated that when a kid told his parents he would be at your house, you had no option but to let the brat in. To not do so made you a pariah, and as much as I loved being the pariah, I suffered the man-trums that followed my daring to turn away a child who had decided they were going to play with my kids, even though my kids were busy doing other things.
- He is non-violent. He would rather talk a problem through than have to become physical. He can become physical if he absolutely has to, but he would rather solve things calmly and keep the peace. I am very aggressive. I was born into a military family, and had to bring myself up. I was a fairly wild child and had no issues solving problems with my fists. As a teen, I was permanently angry, and as a young woman had learnt to be verbally sarcastic and vicious. In the seven years I have been with my partner, I have calmed considerably, and whilst still a little aggressive, I’m more likely to deal with things calmly instead of lashing out. Until I’m pushed too far.
- He is honest. He never says anything because he thinks it’s what I want to hear. If I ask him something he will answer me honestly. He is diplomatic, but he won’t say something that will give me a false impression. There is nothing worse than being told you look great, when you really look like a bag lady, being told that pencil skirt doesn’t make your ass look big, when it makes it look like it belongs on an elephant, or being told the bright green hair colour you think looks fantastic, but makes you look like a washed out alcoholic, looks perfect on you.
- He loves me exactly the way I am. He doesn’t try to change me, doesn’t make me feel like I’m not good enough, that I need to be more capable, intelligent, funny, sociable or classy. He likes that I like sports, butts, beer, cake and his friends. He loves that I let him go out when he wants to, that I look after his children (when they’re with us) so that he can, and that I tolerate his addiction to the internet. He doesn’t care that I cut my long, chestnut brown hair off, and then shaved my head, despite knowing he loved it long. He doesn’t object to my weight gain, or complain about having to look after me, or do household chores for me, when my health issues mean my mobility is limited, even though he’s worked 10 hours that day and is exhausted.
- He is a major nerd. And I do mean MAJOR NERD.! This guy can quote Terry Pratchett, the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Monty Python, Star Wars, Star Trek, Bill & Ted, Wayne’s World, Samuel L. Jackson and any cult movie, going back to the mid-1970’s off the top of his head. If you reference a movie, he’ll be able to tell you which movie, what the quote was, who said it and the context. He blows my mind with how he can recall which character was played by what actor, and in what movie, what number of the series that movie was, if it was in a series, and how long the series ran for. Who the Director was, and what else they’ve directed. 😮
- He is highly intelligent, but doesn’t brag about it. He is knowledgeable on a plethora of subjects. He can discuss the political situation in any country across the world in detail, debate the finer points of those countries societies, and tell you about their traditions and histories, both political and cultural. He can talk about the sports he loves (football, rugby, handball, road cycling, track cycling, F1, Speed Skating, Formula E, hockey, boxing, Glory/MMA, basketball, baseball, American football, skiing), the statistics involved, who the top athletes/players/riders/drivers are, and who they used to be, and when and who established the sport in the first place and where. I kid you not.! He’s read the classics, and loves to watch the TV series/movies after he’s read the books, and has a crazy amount of knowledge on a wide range of books and authors. He taught himself to speak English, and speaks it fluently. He taught himself to speak French, German, Belgian, Italian, Spanish and Russian. He even knows some Greek, Polish and Arabic. He has the same ability with movies and music as he does with sports, and writes for a review website. He loves hip-hip, ska and punk rock, and he can mosh with the best of them.! 😀 He loves philosophy and psychology, science and space exploration and has extensive knowledge of them. But does he make you feel like a brain dead moron.? No, he doesn’t.
- He is funny and has a ‘Dad’ sense of humour. Farts are hilarious in our house, and anything that can be construed as a Dad joke will be met with almost gut-busting gales of laughter. “What do vegetarian zombies eat.? GRRAAAAAIIIIINNNNNSSSS”. If you think that’s bad “What’s Forrest Gump’s Password.? 1 Forrest 1.” and for the Dad’s amongst you “Did you hear about the circus fire.? It was in tents.” Seriously bad jokes like these will cause belly laughs, and the kind of hysterics that would have you rolling on the floor, crying with laughter. Sometimes I have to check he’s still breathing while he’s almost peeing himself. He’s spectacularly quick with one-liners too, although they can sometimes be very politically incorrect in content. Just yesterday, we were watching a fire-eater, and I remarked on how the guy must have some sort of flame retardant in his throat to keep from burning himself… sharp as a knife he quips “So, would that make him a flaming retard.?” I couldn’t decide whether to give him ‘The Look’ or laugh my ass off.
- He’ll try new things. I don’t mean like food and drinks, the guy eats vindaloo like it’s korma. I mean D.I.Y, gardening, cooking, that kind of thing. He’s never done any tiling, but when I asked him to tile the kitchen once our new units were installed, he tiled from one edge of the counter top all along the length of the kitchen, tiling the window sill and hob splash-back, and under the electric sockets, around to the edge of the counter top on the other side. Perfectly straight, perfectly aligned, he broke only two. He’s never done gardening, or grown anything, but when I told him I’d like to get the garden sorted for the summer, he went outside, dug the whole thing over with a spade (50 square feet), separated it into 4 sections, and grew rhubarb, parsnips, peas, carrots and red cabbage over 2 seasons. He baked the first birthday cake I had after we moved in together, despite having never baked a cake in his life. I love how he’ll turn his hand to anything, despite having never done it before, and having no experience. This past autumn, he drove an English car in England, despite having spent his life driving left-hand drive cars on the right hand side of the road. Granted, he scared the crap out of himself when a rose bush jumped out at him, but otherwise was perfectly fine, and got the hang of it quickly.