Category Archives: Personal Bits

Just things from my personal life

Why I Love SharkBoy Pt 454

Favorite, Personal Bits

Shoppers Drug Mart, Parliament and Carlton, 7:40pm

Sharkboy: (Depositing our purchase down on the checkout counter) “Hello there!”
Clerk: (Dead eyed, zombie-like) “Good evening.”
Sharkboy: “All ready for Halloween?”
Clerk: “…g…”
Longish pause. No more response.
Sharkboy: “I’ll take that grunt as a ‘Yes’.”

Husband Meme

Distractions, Personal Bits, Queer stuff

Apologies to my single readers who sit there at their monitors with their bags of Collision Chips and Fantas while they wonder where their life went wrong as they look at blogs on the interweb and consider what to wear when they go to the next Bear bar night and oh god why can’t they find love why why por quoi???

From Gambrinous with Griffonage:

What is his name? Meesh to the family, Michel in Quebec (there’s already a Michele and a Michael in my family so he’s contracted to be contracted).

Who eats more? Me. But he eats more in bed.

Who said I love you first? Me. In his truck. I nearly puked.

Who is taller? I am when we’re standing in the tub.

Who drives most when you are together? He does. But I get bored faster. Mayblubablublabluuuu!

Who’s more sensitive? I would say we’re equally matched. He’ll cry at movies, while I’ll cry at lottery ads.

Who does the laundry? I do. I expect a call from the police when ever he does the laundry because of his patience. He, however, folds.

Who sleeps on the right side of the bed? Facing the bed from the foot, I sleep on the right hand side.

Who pays the bills? Our accounts are combined, but he does all the actual paperwork.

Who cooks more? I do. He’s a bit to meticulous when he follows recipes.

Who is more stubborn? He is. Hands down.

Who is the first to admit they are wrong? Me. I’d rather bask in incorrectness than fight.

Who has more siblings? I do. My four to his one.

Who wears the pants? We share a mu mu on Drunk Sundays. Clean up is a breeze.

What do you like to do together? Pretty much everything. He’s my best friend and husband. I’d not be all that interested if he’s not interested. I know that makes me sound like a creepy conservative housewife, but it’s true.

Who eats more sweets? He does, for medicinal reasons.

Guilty pleasures? Corn chips in bed.

How did you meet? Sly comments on gay.com chat. Then constant exposure due to both of us losing our 9-5 jobs.

Who asked whom out first? I asked him to come along with me to a lesbian bar outside the city. I wound up making out with another guy on the dance floor.

Who kissed first? It was mutual. In a truck. It was fun. Still is.

Who proposed? He emailed my parents for permission. He then sprung it on me in front of our campfire.

His best features and qualities? Have you seen his backside? Heaven. As for qualities: his anger, oddly enough. It reminds me not to take shit from people. And beneath that, there is a thoughtful, kind, smart person that thinks I’m pretty keen.

She Found Him

Personal Bits

Families. What balls of secrets so tightly wound we are. Time has a tendency to loosen these secrets, no matter how angry or disgusted they might make you feel.

It’s about an hour before T-giving dinner and most of my family (cousins, second cousins, aunts, uncles, etc) are congregated on the autumn-hued, idyllic front porch of my uncle’s Bed and Breakfast in Kinmount. In a lull of the conversation, my religious, neo-conservative aunt throws down a photograph on the table. In it, my cousin is smiling, her head touching the head of a young kid.

“She found him. On Facebook,” She says, matter of fact.

“Oh?” I say, taking up the picture. Not getting it. Both are smiling ear to ear. Are they in love?

“She searched him and found him, sent him a message and he replied back saying he had known of her for some time but didn’t know how to start talking to her.”

I’m even more confused. Was this her new husband? The kid looks half her age. I didn’t recall any break up email or super-poke from her on Facebook letting me know that she was newly single. I’m piecing together a puzzle with boxing gloves on.

My other cousin from a different aunt says, “No! That’s amazing!” and takes the picture from me.

“Muh. Yes. Wow!” I say, utterly faking the moment. After the aunt making blithe comments about these two meeting up, the photo goes back into her purse. Pause. The conversation shifts.

Later, much, I approach Dad with this odd exchange. Apparently this cousin had a child in her teens (un-wed) and gave him up for adoption and had recently reunited with him via the internet. There’s way more to the story that I will not recount for respect out of all those involved but when I got all the “details” it was similar to sitting through a soap opera recount episode while someone punched at my liberal sensitivities. I had heard nothing of this, having been living in England around the time it happened.

And now I understand my neo-conservative wing of my family better. Approve? No. Just understand.