Sunday, February 3, 2008

The Patience of a Man

My fiance' is a doll.  He's got the patience of an enlightened Buddah, just not so chubby.

Every once in a while (three or more times today, and counting), I go completely crazy.  He's watching the Superbowl game (darn those Giants) and I'm blurting out obnoxious things like, "Why isn't my password working?  The computer isn't letting me into my account."  So what does he do?  He gets up from what he is enjoying to see why I'm harping.  Then he makes several (seemingly banal at the time) suggestions as to what I might try to alleviate the problem.  When I fuss at him for my own incompetence, he (politely) tells me off for being shrewish and states simply that he could go back to what he was doing... unless I want his help.  At that, I feel foolish and ask him to help.  Going over all of the options of error-making, I convince him that it couldn't possibly be a user-made problem.  In fact, I defended myself explaining how I would have avoided all of those suggested and common pitfalls.  Then...

I suddenly realize what I had done and freeze up like a deer in headlights.  He notes that I'm startled into catatonia and asks if I'm alright.  Then I have to blush from annoyed shame, type in the alternate password I'd set up originally, see that it works and hang my head before (using the smallest and most humble voice with which I can eat crow) apologizing to him.  I was such a bother!

He's not without faults, really.  There's a temper to speak of and he plays with his cowlick when he's agitated or excited about something (most recently that all-important football game).  But to me, he's my hero and best friend.  And I don't deserve him.  Nope, not even when I bring him dinner so he doesn't have to get up from his turn at the computer.

I love you Mul.  Abore 'pa zin.

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