There comes a point in every relationship when you look at your partner and realise that one of you is cooler and therefore superior. If it is you, then you really needn't worry. However, when I considered all the times I've, say, tried to fit inside a washing machine for a 50p bet, or pursued someone around a building doing spoken word rap at them, or asked a guest to wait while I got my dinosaur encyclopaedia out, then I could come to no other conclusion. I was the weaker link. It came as a deep and unsettling shock, although in retrospect perhaps it should not have. I made an executive decision that, to my knowledge, she is not really aware of. It did come up in a conversation the other day.
Other Half; Did you have fun at the houseparty?
Me: I did, yeah! Ahaha! I was wasted!
Other Half: (thoughtfully) I thought you were fine. A bit tipsy maybe, but still coherent.
Me: (beginning to sweat) No, honestly, I was pie-eyed.
Other Half: Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen you properly drunk.
Me: (properly sweating now) You totally have. Remember that time last summer, when we all went out and I wanted to bring that traffic cone home?
Other Half: Ah, yes, George. How could I forget? But no, even then you managed to unlock our door in under ten seconds. I don't think that qualifies.
I need to admit something. The day I realised I was dating someone much cooler than me, I vowed never to be drunk in her presence, in case she saw me for the mortifying, overly-affectionate and fagalicious Otternator that I am. I'm not a sad drunk, or an angry drunk. On the whole I am a very enthusiastic drunk. Each new idea is seized with the crazed energy of a kitten getting its first whiff of catnip. But here's the thing, I dance like the gayest guy you've ever seen. It involves body popping and grinding. I won't lie to you. There may also be robot dancing. It is the kind of thing that has in the past put off more than one potential suitor, who may have been under the impression thus far that I was not a complete nerd.
I also sing, which is something I would absolutely never do around other people while sober. I have been known to do the entire Rocky Horror song 'Dammit Janet', doing both male and female and chorus parts, complete with exuberant acting. I have also brought bits of furniture home off the street for no reason, woken up with a shopping trolley in my living room (I lived in the second floor at the time) and managed to lose a jar of pennies despite never leaving the room. I am, in short, a walking goodnatured drunken disaster.
I know it would be callous of Other Half to break it off with me for such a small thing as this, after all she has put up with so much else over the time we've been together, and she indulges me occasionally by mirroring my impression of the OMG Cat (link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C_S5cXbXe-4) amongst other things, but I firmly believe that everyone keeps at least one secret from their partner. It's what keeps you from merging into an annoying supercouple with only one mind.
Love the ending paragraph. I am in total agreement with you. Everyone needs at least one pocketed secret to keep things fresh, lively, on the edge.
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