Aiden had decided that his patience with me was going to be an enduring one. Despite my notions of pushing him away, he had decided to stick around, keep his patience, and to make things work. Or at least try to make them work.
I was silent in acknowledging my appreciation, which of course came in small portions, and was generally transferred through telepathy, being happy to afford him bitchy me and nice me at occasions and then just by making sure that I would not be a “runaway bride” and run away from all forms of relationship notions.
However, I was surprised when he picked our first “couple-like” fight. It was over some silly hair-cut which he thought he did not need and I thought would be nice if he had.
The drift of the topic was such that he thought he looked better with longer hair with his curls being visible to the world (of which I have no complains, and which of course has its own attraction) and my thinking that he would look better with a shorter hair-cut for a change, looking a bit matured.
“ I will look like a pencil” he says.
“You do look like one when you have your normal hair-cut, that is why I am telling that you would look better in a one!” I tell him.
It then stretches to shirts, and number of shirts he would be travelling with and comes back to hair. I have lately realised that Aiden and I have a common ground. We both do take our own time to forget things. Or rather being too” lawyerish,” we both try to take our own time, but come back to proving each-one’s side of the argument, providing ourselves intervals if needed.
“So what you going to do about ‘your’ hair?”
“ I think I will go bald,” I reply.
“Good, you will look good then!” he adds.
I felt his last retort was too silly to be commenting on and decided that I did not want to continue playing this game of whether he needs a hair-cut or I need to go bald to improve my looks. I think he also had run out of his arguments, and was just being an idiot. Thankfully enough to which-ever be the cause, he decides he will get his hair-cut, and I decide that I will be silent and be rationed in pestering him.
Immediate result : conversation turns to normalcy, over weather that is gloomy which he hates, and then to International Court of Justice or something totally random as the pattern on his PJs.
I have realized of late thanks to Aiden, that life can be simple if I do not embark on my normal mission of adopting a cause for reform.
Things are simple if we decide to keep it that way. It’s very simple, like simply agreeing that smell of coffee is good in the morning, and that he would have looked good in his alphabet print PJs had he been 5 years old.
But the bottom line, in life I laugh. And he laughs with me too!