love and other rambles

I am an under-achieving holiday participant, so I doubt you expected much from me this Valentines (although I did wrap Christmas presents for the first time this year, so...).  Anyway, here's a little Dr. Seuss to sum up mine and Conlin's relationship: compatible weirdness.  

I knew I could marry Conlin when I realized we were the same kind of nice, the same kind of competitive, the same kind of weird, especially.  In high school I'd briefly date someone and then realize--nope, wrong kind of weird.  There's lack of weird, which is just plain boring (and likely a farce: just come to terms with your weirdness, you closeted freak).  And then there's overt, clashing weirdness: for me this included anything from whisper singing in my ear to sporting floor-length leather trench coats to saying, on first dates, "What's your stance on *NCMOs?"

Conlin's weird is just right.  

In junior high I remember telling my mom, "I want to end up with someone that makes me laugh...but also someone I can make laugh."  And I have.  Although frequently the things I do that amuse Conlin are non-purposeful.  But whatever. (Or, "whatevs" as my Dad's been saying lately).  The point is: we laugh a lot.  And we stay up prank calling people.  And sure, when my friend got engaged and set up a website to collect addresses we submitted about twenty fake names, such as: Ben Dover, Jack Mihoff, Hugh Jarse, Imma Ho, Hugh G. Rection, etc.  

We just get each other.  And that's nice.  I like knowing that at the end of a day, good or bad, I can come home to someone that's going to make me feel understood and safe.  

That Conlin sure is something.  Here's to many more years of shared weirdness.  Cheers.  [Feel free to clink metaphorical glasses].

*NCMO: Non-commital make outs.  Someone seriously asked me that.