My second attempt at finding an Adorable Life-Mate was a huge success. I have to give all the credit to him though, because I certainly tried his patience. It’s not easy trying to find a new mate when your boobs are drooping, the threat of a double chin has become a reality and you need Sherpas to carry all the baggage you lugged out of your marriage. He persisted though and I finally accepted that there wasn’t a porn addict or a rapist in the closet and he wasn’t after what little money I had (I evidentally watched too many Investigation Discovery programs like Homicide Hunter or Who the #$%* did I Marry?).
In the end I realized I had a keeper and that he was perfect for me; he’s a fixer, while I’m a breaker. I don’t mean to break things, it just happens because I am usually thinking about things that I’m not doing when I should be thinking about the things that I am doing. I also walk forward while I’m looking backward….or walk backward when I’m looking forward. I probably should wear a Public Service Announcement – I won’t, but I most definitely should.
Anyway, my Adorable Life-Mate, The Viking, is a motorcycle mechanic – a very good one at that – which means he takes shit apart, fiddles with them, swears, throws tools, loses tools, puts everything back together and revs the hell out of it. The best part of this is that people pay him good money to do it. AND he can fix nearly everything. Even things that I wish he wouldn’t fix but that’s for a different post.
So, one day I find my toothbrush dead. I find a battery to replace the dead one but the bottom of the brush won’t come off and I start yelling that it’s a stupid piece of shit and come! apart! ALREADY!!! I don’t have a lot of patience for things that are supposed to make my life easier but quite frequently don’t. I pull and twist and eventually even use teeth in an effort to pry the two pieces apart. The Viking comes to investigate the yelling and finds me ready to bash the toothbrush on the edge of the sink. He says “Easy, babe. Give that to me.” With a huff and a scowl I hand it over. He pops the bottom off with a little flick and I mutter under my breath that the toothbrush is an asshole and a traitor because I’m the one that always keeps it clean and puts it away and only uses the best toothpaste and it should be more cooperative out of gratitude at a bare minimum.
The Viking replaces the battery, puts the bottom back on and turns the brush on. Then off. Then on. Then off. Then on. Then off. Then hands it to me with a slightly superior smile.
I make a face at him and ask “Did you just rev up my toothbrush?” He looks at me, startled for a brief second, then starts to laugh because that’s exactly what he just did. And how can you stay grumpy with a guy that revs up toothbrushes?