prev
archive
next
All the sidebar stuff is the same as "yesterday's", because I really wrote both entries the same day. I can do time warps because it's my journal. Nyah.
Storyteller
Bio
Dramatis Personnae
Who I Read
Recipes
March 29, 2002
I know him so well.
An On Display contribution
The topic for this month's On Display collaboration is "Describe someone you love."
I spend a lot of time talking about Calvin in these pages. It's easy to write volumes about the center point of your life, I guess. And so, when I saw the topic for this month's On Display collab, I actually tried to think of someone *else* to write about. You all know - everyone who is even remotely acquainted with me knows - how much I adore him. I love my grandmother, but I'm not in the "place" to write about her. I love my sister, but thoughts of her aren't inspiring me either. I love Marie and Michael, and they would be who I would write about if it weren't for the fact that my mind has already translated the topic into a requirement to write about Calvin.
So. If you're sick of hearing it, you may want to find something else to read today. May I suggest Storyteller?
Calvin is human. He has a temper, he's sometimes irritating, and he's high maintenance. He teases me (out of love) to the point where I either laugh until I cry, or just cry because I get so worked up. When that happens, he gets irritated and leaves the room, but then comes back five minutes later to make sure I'm okay. Which I always am - how can I explain to him that nonstop teasing gets me frustrated in a non-mad way but makes me cry because I'm so wound up? Yeah, I'm a freak. What's your point?
Calvin's an amazing cook. He is the barbecue god and no one can approach his godliness. By the same token, he's rather picky about the things he eats. Rarely a meal goes by (that either he or I prepare) that he doesn't critique to death. "It's okay, but it could use a little..." If he's cooked it, I assure him it's fine. If I've cooked it, I get defensive. The dish receives high accolades indeed if he says "It's got good flavor."
He smells incredible. There's this little spot, a hollow at the base of his neck above his collar bone, that I bury my face in when we hug. Some combination of his cologne, the soap he uses, and the scent of his skin is so comforting and exciting at the same time.
Calvin's eyes are green with brown and gold flecks in them. Sometimes they're hazel, depending on his clothing or his mood. Earth colors look best on him, and luckily the green that matches his eyes is a popular color for men's shirts nowadays.
I'm in love with the baby hairs at the nape of his neck. I'll come up behind him and blow on them, or nibble-kiss his neck, and he immediately shivers with goose bumps. I'll also play with the hair on his arms, brushing it backward and then smoothing it down again. The hair on his head is soft and fine - when he wears it long I love playing with it just after he's gotten out of the shower and it's still damp. When he wears it as a flat top, I love scritching my fingernails all over his head. More goose bumps. Goose bumps are good.
Calvin has a great sense of humor - one that allows him to laugh at himself as easily as he laughs at other things. I'll point out something silly that he said or did, and he'll mutter "Shut up..." while a smile begins to tug at his mouth. Then I'll grin at him, and he'll say "Dammit!" and begin to laugh. That's the secret to getting him to see the humor in things - grin right into his face until he relents.
We fight incredibly rarely. I think I can count on one hand the amount of arguments we've had since we've been together (and that'll be the last time he vacuums a cat of mine!). Because we argue so infrequently, it took me a long time to realize a key thing about how he fights. Because of his past, Calvin was so used to using hurtful words and receiving hurtful words in return during a fight, he would toss them out almost casually. For him they're just words and have very little, if any, meaning. He had a habit of picking out a weakness in a person and using it against them. At first I couldn't grasp how much he *didn't* mean the things he said during an argument. In my mind, if you say them you *mean* them, and you must think very little of me indeed to go for the jugular like that. And he couldn't figure out why I would get so upset at something that in his mind should just roll right off my back. Then, as I learned more about him and his past relationship, I began to see where that tendency was coming from. And like I said, we fight so rarely that it hardly ever comes up. He's even said that he fights differently now - our "fights" are more passionate discussions. The same disagreements with is ex would have resulted in a knock-down drag-out.
By gum, I'm turning him into a "nice guy"! ~gasp~ He'll deny it, of course.
Some of the stuff he wears around the house (his comfy clothes) cracks me up. He's got this bright teal set of scrubs he got from one of the hospitals when he serviced the controls in one of the OR's. It's got pink hems. He'll wear the bottoms to that, along with a purple t-shirt and his red slippers. I'll tell him, "Oh, baby! You're a technicolor dream!" To which he'll respond by striking a sexy pose.
I've never actually heard him sing. Oh, I've heard a few subdued notes every now and then, and I think I've actually heard him hum once or twice. Just enough to know that he could carry a tune if he wanted to. But for some reason he's really shy about it. Darn. I've always wanted a guy to sing to me. Hm. Let me amend that. I've always wanted a guy who can sing *well* to sing to me. I bet he could. My ex, he most certainly could not.
Calvin has three tattoos. Taz on his chest (I got a gecko on my hip that same day), a Japanese symbol for the word "love" on one shoulder (same as me), and a tri-skull pattern on his other shoulder (by the same artist that did the bird-like creature that's on *my* other shoulder). We laugh because we've gotten all of our tattoos and piercings (six holes in the ears for him, five ear piercings and a belly ring for me) at the same time. It's an addiction. It's an illness. Didn't I already point out that I'm a freak? Is it such a large leap in logic to assume that the man I'm with is a freak, too?
Calvin and I share the same taste in movies and music - although he likes slapstick comedy more than I do, and he hates jazz whereas I would gladly have Harry Connick's babies. He's a fan of computer games and I'm not. I'm a fan of books and he's not. I like vegetables, he's pretty much a carnivore. I like museums, he likes the drag races (well, I do, too).
He makes a point to gaze at the moon, takes close-up pictures of butterflies, loves how it smells after it rains, and would rather shoot a deer with a camera than with a rifle.
He screams at basketball games like the players can hear him, is proud of his belches and farts, can pack away a bag of tortilla chips and a whole bowl of bean dip in 20 minutes, and likes to watch Jerry Springer.
If I ever surprised him at a restaurant with some sort of confection and a flock of clapping, chanting waiters, he'd disown me. And probably cause a scene as he stormed out of the restaurant.
He thinks my tractor's sexy. Wait, I don't have a tractor. Moving on...
We love the same. We both think it's important to talk, to be on the same page, to be affectionate, and to tell each other fifty million times a day "I love you". There's this little squeaky noise we do at each other - I'll have to record it sometime, or make an mpg of it, or something, because it defies description. It's like a call, that sounds kind of like "Eh!", or long and drawn out like "Eeeeeeeh!" We use it when we're looking for each other in the house or when we've just walked in the door after work. Or we'll do it across the room at each other in place of "hi" or "I love you". Or one of us will say "I love you" and the other will respond with the noise. The kids think it's hysterical, in a pathetic "Oh my god you guys are so lame and embarrassing and weird" kind of way. I have no idea how it got started, but that's what we do.
If a song comes on the radio that has particular meaning to us, he'll turn it up and smile at me.
You still haven't seen his African Anteater Dance yet, have you? Note to self...
He's exceedingly fastidious about cleanliness and neatness. He can't stand clutter, and insists that the house maintain a minimum standard of tidiness at all times. Luckily, he's just as likely to drag out the mop or vacuum as me. More likely, actually. The only things he won't do are laundry and cleaning the toilet. Which I can most certainly deal with.
And yet, he leaves his dirty socks and underwear on the floor all. the. time.
Calvin has the most responsible work ethic I've ever seen in anyone. If a job needs to get done, he'll do it. He's exceedingly capable - I've never seen him fail at anything he tries to do. From programming building controls to wiring our hot tub to fixing a leaky toilet - the sheer amount of things he knows how to do amazes me. And makes me perfectly willing to perform the "girl" role. "You're the boy, you put it together!" Usually all it takes is me saying something like, "Which one's the crescent wrench, the one with the spinny thing that makes it open and close, or the one with the round hole on one end?" He'll usually take over from there.
Oh, dear. Am I giving away all of my secrets? ~grin~
He makes really great coffee. I can do the exact same steps, use the exact same amount of coffee, and use the exact same amount of sugar and milk, and it still doesn't come out as good.
Calvin has a pretty hot temper, but if you leave him alone and let him be by himself for five minutes, he'll come back and apologize for losing his temper. No slow, insidious, creeping boil for him. I prefer it that way - he wears his emotions on his sleeve. He's easy to figure out, never hides anything, and is completely honest.
Which also means he doesn't (Does. Not.) suffer in silence. If he's not happy about something, you'll hear about it. As will anyone in earshot who will stand still long enough (or who can't outrun him). And he'll huff. And he'll puff. And he'll pout. Yes, he pouts.
Yes, Calvin, you do too. You learned it from me. (I bet his mom beg's to differ.)
There's a ton of other things I could describe about Calvin. He's my favorite subject, after all, and the one I know the best. But I think I'm in enough trouble with this entry as it is. Suffice to say he's not perfect, I love him; I'm not perfect, he loves me. I'm sure there's no one better for me than him.
You really can't ask for more than that, now, can you?