I'm not Korean...(not that there's anything wrong with that)

Things that make me go mmm....

Lately I've been questioning what makes Spidey and I click. Theoretically, there are a lot of reasons why we shouldn't.

He's a Scorpio and I'm a Sagittarius. According to the laws of astronomy, this partnership is about as compatible as cauliflower on toast.

We don't know which date we officially started "going out". It's somewhere between the 27th April to 15th May 2005. And yes, it matters.

We have completely different taste in music. I once saw a Casey Chambers CD in his collection and had to convince myself it was left there by an ex-girlfriend who clearly had spent too much time out in the sun on the Nullabor Plain.

We don't have a song. This irks me.

He doesn't like going to the movies. This means I spend a lot of time watching new releases on DVD by myself.

He doesn't read. Unless you count Motor, Vintage Cars, and the Trading Post literary works of art.

He would rather undergo a kidney transplant without the general anestetic than spend a night out at the theatre, a musical or a concert.

He's not Chinese. He'll never understand my mother tongue, he'll never get used to tofu, and he'll always balk at how tightarse we can be.

But we fit. Somehow we fit.

His idea of a good Friday night in is a fridge stocked with Coopers Green, a roomful of his mates, a random cricket/rugby/motorsport show on the box and a delivery order with the local pizza shop. My idea is a night out on the town with my peeps, dinner at a random Japanese restaurant, engaging in wicked banter followed by a taxi ride back to his. And we're always so ecstatic to see each other.

We know we met on 17 April 2005. We've agreed this was an extraordinary day. I knew, he knew, from the very moment we saw each other and without yet having spoken a word, we would be seeing each other again.

We love to cook. Our best conversations often occur in the kitchen. He looks damn sexy with a pair of tongs in his hands.

We love the outdoors, the travelling, the sun, the markets, the lazy Sunday afternoon picnics sprawled on a blanket.

He makes me laugh till my sides split. This is actually an accomplished feat when you consider my standards of comical genius.

He's mood barometer never falls below neutral. Mine is volatile and flamboyant. But he puts up with it, or at least ignores it, even when my shit has hit the fan and he's innocently at the receiving end. Other times he'll even ask me to "pull my head in".

His random gifts are always so thoughtful. A pilates mat. A guitar tuner. Gingerbread men from Jones the Grocer.

We trust each other. He could be surrounded by, and chatting to a harem of barenaked ladies and I wouldn't bat an eyelid. In my younger insufferable days I would have bitch-slapped the ho and then slaughtered the sausage.

He's an 'ideas' man and he's earned every bit of his success. I like the fact that I can look up to him.

We converse in "relationship" language riddled with private jokes, codes and colourful accents. His seeth africaan is my favourite.

In Yoda-speak - connect, we do. Fun, we have. Boring, it is not.

But ask me again in 6 months. Things could change. But for the moment, I'm pretty happy.

posted by Lokes @ 3:14 PM