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Good Times?

January 15, 2011
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I don’t want to sound like it’s all bad living with MB.. Far from it, he is great fun. For starters, we laugh together all the time and despite his more unsavoury habits like constantly nipping out the back for a cig and being glued to FB, he’s immensely good company. The kind of person you want to have around because he’s interesting.  He has interesting things to say about most things and is interested in things that most people aren’t.

He loves to talk to people and find out things about them and I guess, because he’s reluctant to talk about his ‘past’ or perhaps wants to keep certain things about himself under wraps, he prefers to center the conversation around the person he’s talking to. This is an immensely attractive characteristic, and it wins him fans. I see this when we are in company,  he’s a charming, witty raconteur and people like to be around him. I don’t need to worry about him being out of his depth or uncomfortable, he can schmooze with the best of them.

As for us, we are good together.  We ‘fit’ they say.   You know when you just like being in a person’s company? like looking at them and listening to the sound of their voice?  well, that’s me and MB.  I could listen to him read off a cereal box because he’s so animated and engaging and funny when he talks. He gestures with his hands, his voice gets louder and his big bambi eyes get even bigger, particularly when he’s excited about what he’s talking about, which is often. I love this about him, that he gets excited and finds things to be inspired by.

The downside of course is that these burst of activity are punctuated by snoozy, methadone-y sleeping.. He needs lots of sleep… I’m getting used to seeing those eyes slide closed and his voice starting to drawl a little. Instead of getting annoyed by it, I now find it rather cute.

As well as being funny, talented etc and a mine of useless information, he’s also a great editor and, just recently, has been helping me to get my PhD finally done and dusted. The last week has been me and him sat hunched over the kitchen table together discussing the finer uses of the apostrophe and the correct way to insert a gerund. He’s been in his element –  bossing me about correcting this and that,  but immensely pleased I think, that I’ve written this stupid thesis. He wants me to be a Dr.

The last few days have been sublime, and its in moments like these I forget all the other stuff, the drugs, the past, all the thousand worries that dance through my head like the fastest milonga…


Speaking of which, Tango has been on MB’s back burner, again, but we have had the occasional practica in the kitchen. MB being of short attention span gets bored after five minutes,  and so we go back to sitting companiably at our respective computers occasionally posting insults on eachother’s Facebook pages.

Yes, of course I wish he’d get out there and get a job and be like any other ‘normal’ guy who wasn’t dealing with  opiate addiction. But then, I’d miss him…and his MB ways…

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