Sometimes I ask myself why I put up with S. I like being by myself. And (I know, here comes a Captain Obvious remark) relationships are a lot of double, double, toil and trouble. And we are heading in different directions really soon, so this situation has a definite expiration date on it. Perhaps that's one of the reasons I haven't cut loose.
But it probably also has to do with the fact that, after listening to Peter Bjorn & John's Young Folks yesterday, he proceeded to sing incessantly and with glee, "We don't care about the aardvarks."
The thing I find really interesting (and I know I sound like an alien visitor from another planet but sometimes that's how I feel when it comes to being in a non-solitary state) is how it's little things that stick with me, or rather draw me into attachment. S pretends to be annoyed at the smirk I develop when he puts on a hoodie. I know these little things about him now, like how five minutes later, he will be complaining about how he is sweltering and has to take that sweatshirt off before it causes him to overheat. Or how sometimes, when he is restless, it will actually seem like there is a pine cone on the couch, because he will spring up every time he sits down, with one more task to accomplish.
But I wonder sometimes, if there is this great divide. Some of us find those little traits endearing, grow more attached as we get to know those slight but specific details that make a person who they are. And some of us are initially smitten with our idea of someone, and then grow disenchanted as we discover the truth.
So I am thankful, for now at least, that S grins, bemused, when I start swearing at Tom Brady (or, as a friend CW recently nicknamed him, Bieber Senior) or ranting about Brett Favre's "I'm retiring/starting!" antics.