One of the great things about the boyfriend (apart from him being a sexy fireman) is I can totally be myself around him. I don’t need to be embarrassed about my quirks, or regulate my behaviour in any way around him. And neither does he around me. So, when he’s so anxious about flying the night before a holiday the only way he can release his pent-up anxiety is by doing star jumps in the kitchen, he can feel safe that I won’t laugh (much) and I know that he’ll return the favour next time I accidentally eat too many Jelly Tots and go temporarily crazier.
Recently, temperatures where we live have taken a plummet. After the big freeze in December, we’ve been experiencing relatively mild temperatures, but over the last couple of days things have been on a bit of a downward curve. Last night it was -2, a long way from the arctic -15 we were experiencing regularly a month ago, but enough to set the warning bells ringing.
Except at my house.
Last night we were driving home from dinner at my mother’s when the boyfriend decided it would probably be a good idea to put the windscreen cover on, in case he got a shout in the night. After all, nothing hampers your target to get to the fire station in 4 minutes from when the alerter goes off at 2 in the morning more than a frozen windscreen. So, while I was left to get the bags out of the car, he dashed inside to retrieve the cover from the garage.
Now, our house is less a house, more a bungalow on top of three garages, one of which is ours. The first thing you get when you walk through the door is a staircase and the garage door, which happens to open into the narrow corridor, rather than into the garage. So, in his haste to get the windscreen cover, the boyfriend inadvertently trapped me outside in the subzero temperatures.
While I was standing at the door making plaintive mewling noises, I noticed that my breath was steaming up the diamond-shaped window we have in our doorway. This, in my mind had one instant association.
So, while I was doing my best to make my breath shoot across the window in a sinister, dinosauric fashion, the boyfriend returned from his foray into the garage and opened the door to find me looking like a complete idiot.
Boyfriend: What’s wrong with your face?
Me: I was being a velociraptor.
Boyfriend: You look like a neanderthal.
I was pleased he came up with a vaguely related insult, even if he was over 64 million years out.
I tried to explain, but clearly the Jurassic Park reference was lost on him.
So, I made a complete idiot of myself in front of him, and anyone else on the estate who happened to be looking out of the window, but I wasn’t bothered. The boyfriend is wonderfully accepting of my occasionally off beat behaviour.
Besides, ten minutes later he was dancing round the living room pretending to be one of the Crab People in South Park…