I love my wife. We’ve been together a long time now. We know each other very well.
I love spending time with her. I’m fairly sure that she loves spending time with me.
We enjoy doing a lot of things together.
But we don’t enjoy doing everything together. And that’s fine, because that would actually be a bit weird.
I like football. She doesn’t like football.
She likes Netflix series. I don’t like Netflix series.
She’s chilling on a yacht in the Mediterranean at the moment, I’m writing blog posts in a gloomy Cape Town.
But because we know each other and are aware of each other’s likes and dislikes, we can still show some interest in the other person’s pastimes, even if we’re not really invested or even if we don’t really understand what’s going on. The offside rule can be rather awkward to grasp. Poorly-acted American hospital dramas can often be quite complicated to follow. She’s happy on her yacht. I’d rather be on her yacht.
I saw this cartoon recently and it made me think of just how lucky I am to be in this position. I can’t imagine being single and having to start over. And just chucking out a random attempt in the hope of finding a shared interest.
This would likely be akin to one of my best efforts at breaking the ice. And you can already see from the uninterested look on the lady’s face that it’s not going to work. I’d have to take my ball home and play with it alone.
Story of my life.
Thank goodness it was love at first sight in our case and I didn’t have to try and woo Mrs 6000 with tales of just how brilliant Bob Hatton and Keith Edwards were as a striking combination back in 1982.
How different (and by “different”, I mean much worse) life could have been.