I like to think I know my boyfriend. It’s been two years, one tiny house in the city and many little adventures. I thought by this point I had my man down pat. We work together and live together so you wouldn’t think there was much I would miss. However I’m only just starting to realise there might still be little surprises in the everyday life. Who would’ve guessed. See this is particularly surprising given my boyfriend’s personality… he is (how do I say this lovingly)…highly structured. Yet not in any kind of logical sense (well not logical to me). Here is an example if my boyfriends has fish for dinner on Monday night then he won’t eat fish again until he has had chicken and then beef on the following nights. Oh yes my friends there is an order.
There is an order to everything. He only eats one type of cheese, one type of bread and drinks one type of milk, they have been deemed superior. Any other brands brought home are regarded with a curious amusement; they are put in the freezer or the bin. I mean what else could you possibly do with them?
So perhaps you can understand why I became comfortable in the knowledge that I could anticipate him. On the contrary I’m starting to suspect I know lots of things about him but that maybe that doesn’t mean I know him.
GOD Dammit I know him.
I think.
But then I had a sleepless night and I decided to read a book to kill the time. It occurred to me that I had bookshelves in the house with novels I had never read. I had a whole library of boyfriend books. I messaged him for a recommendation. And that is where the surprises started. The passion filled message that came back named the exact spot on the bookshelf I’d find it, the author’s full name and a plea to ‘hold past the first twenty pages’. Like any good girlfriend I became immediately suspicious. My boyfriend reads political books, military books, medical books. My boyfriend is… rather serious.
WHO is this boyfriend imposter?
But that was only the start.
It was a fiction book.
I’m serious. And not like a star wars man-ny fiction book like a fanciful beautiful novel about a young boy becoming a man and the adventure he goes on. And it was a good one. I was enthralled.. for at least eight pages, until this question got the better of me.
Who is my boyfriend?
And then last night it was confirmed.
We were at our best friend’s birthday party. A night of cocktails, soul music and family. And this man came shimmying across the dance floor toward me. It was my man. My man doesn’t dance like that, well I’ve never seen him dance like that. I’ve never seen us dance like that. But most of all he wanted to dance with me,
slow,
in front of all our dearest friends and family to soul music. My heart just went to melty mush. Yes. It was exactly like Dirty dancing.. except without all the sweet moves and more spinning and crashing into other couples. It was magic.
So there you have it. I’m living with a stranger. I’m dating a really beautiful, familiar stranger and it has me wondering. Maybe during this part in our relationship, well do you know the part? It’s the part before children, the part being poor uni students with casual jobs in our late twenties. Maybe it isn’t going to be what I thought. Maybe somewhere between the rotation of fish, chicken and beef maybe there are more adventures to be had.
I wonder what else there is to learn about my new boyfriend, maybe I’ll bring home a different brand of bread next week just for kicks.
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