That Buzz

In a recent post, where I was
modestly expounding my superior sense of direction,
I then bracketted the sentence

'but the Bee would argue that I am a stubborn
cow whose sense of direction is far from superior'
(or something to that effect, it doesn't really matter when I
am misquote-ing me)

Let me tell you about me, if it isn't already obvious,
I have a problem with giving up the driving seat,
and not just in the car.

And the Bee, bless his soul
is the most patient being on earth
(I know it looks like the opposite)

So he will indulge my anal retentive whims
and let me lead us lost in circles in the bowels
of a city,
until my shoes are ragged and my feet screaming
mercy, which is when I will turn on him
and blame him (its not my fault, I don't get lost)

And the Bee,
this is when he will turn to me,
hold out his hand for me to place mine in
he will blink his buttercup blue eyes once or
twice, pausing to let the full effect of
his impossibly lush lashes fanning his cheekbones take seed,
before looking deep into my soul

Then he will say with that voice that is a balm,
that coats and calms my frazzled synapses
"Trust me, let me lead us baby. Okay, trust me?"

And really? How can I not?
How does one not relent?
Putty.

It takes a good man to put up
with my maddened raging and
pushy ways (female hormones), but one that tames me, one who I would
willingly let lead me blind-folded over hot coals (not that he would)
the world now sees for the first time.

Of course we are not perfect
we have our bad days.

The Bee is the yeller, he will roar at me, I will quietly, curtly say
"I'll speak to you later" and hang up
10 mins later he will calm down, apologise;

Me, if I am angry with him
I refuse to talk, I will write him emails maybe
I will send a thousand texts
but it will be as though my mouth holds gold

I keep it in, only because I am more articulate in
writing than speech, also so that I don't scream

I will stay angry longer than he, but eventually and
ultimately, we reach a point when we are both mutually
working to resolve things
its like intangible fingers stretching
the length and breadth of the world, to touch each other.

And in the long periods between a rough patch,
we laugh, oh how we laugh,
it never fails to surprise me, how he reads my
mind, finishes my sentences no matter how off tangent

How I can be telling him about a song I'd just heard
how one line got to me, and he will tell me the exact line

How we can be completely honest with each other
about our weirdest, worst or most emotional thoughts

He's always surprising me, with that sense of humour,
that intelligence and intuitiveness, by just 'getting' me,
even when I don't get myself.

And yet, we are so completely, utterly different
I am the one into Edith Piaf, gastronomy,travel, wine

And the Bee, he's into Machine Head,
beers and house parties where everyone leaves
when the cops come
(like, hello?imagine me in that situation, can?)

while I sit and read my book on the grass in the park
The Bee could be hurling himself off the edge
of a railing, headfirst into the mosh pit
a compact, buzzing ball of energy

That's the way I love to see the Bee, being 100% himself
(even if its sometimes annoying)

While I have a somewhat sociable front
(e-social too), and what you see is more or less what you get
(though of course, level of depth depends on who),
the Bee can at times seem extremely unsociable,
he epitomises the proverb don't judge a book by its cover.

We keep those differences, we appreciate them in each other
we encourage some of them,
On the fringes of our worlds, things mesh,
interests, ideas, habits, hobbies, philosophy;
as we discover new worlds within and with each other.

We let each other be each other,
yet parts of us are changing.
We're growing up, loosening up, for each other.

And I think to a certain extent we give each other
the strength to do things we always wanted to do and never
thought we were capable of.

We are not one person, he is he, and I am I
and only then, we are us.

That's probably the beauty of it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

P.S. I know that buttercups aren't blue.