the heidi chronicles

glancing at the blogs of women throughout this internet world of ours, it seems to me that there is some bizarre unspoken rule that to write about one's significant other - particularly male specimens - is reserved for bitching.

don't get me wrong, there is praise - most of it vomit-inducing. yet it is not nearly as prolific as the bemoaning his lack of sensitivity here and his impatience for pms tantrums there.

glancing then again at my own little journal here, i realized i don't really write about the ruski that often. he's here, without a doubt, but mostly that's it. mentioned in context, but never the lead role. i wondered at first, "am i a shitty girlfriend?" or am i simply naive and it's all i ever talk about?

but in really considering it, it's most likely a good sign being as how i generally bitch about everything else under the sun here.

nevertheless, if anyone has been privy to this thing from its initial stages, you might be thinking- as i sometimes do - "who the hell is this guy that turned our little strumpet into a full-blown marrying-type?"

i, in fact, have dear friends, so close to my heart that they have not only wedding invites, but duties for the ceremony, who have yet to meet the elusive comrade. (he's not much of a party boy, that one. our first date: "what do you want to do now? because mathematicians don't dance..." or drink... or socialize)

therefore, let this be your introduction... world, meet the man who won my heart. i swear to try and keep that last sentence the most nauseating one of the whole bunch...

first, a confession. we met here. yep, through the magic of the internet. and if i told you it was on friendster, i lied to you. to hide my guilt and shame. years of mocking and scoffing at internet-dating sites will come back to haunt me once my union is legal and the scarlet H appears at my throat, courtesy of the church of online match-making. H for HIP-O-CRIT!!!!! thank you, nerve.com for the direct hand you had in getting me to a man whom i have not a trace of doubt will make me every bit the happily married woman my mother is (married to high school sweetheart 29 years and counting, reared child/typing monkey with him and still sleeps comfortably beside him every night... i call him dad)...

the part about him writing to ask what my tattoo was, however, is 100% truth. he thought it was something he'd seen in a computer game. i heart nerds, indeed!

meet ilya:

- three masters degrees. THREE! all in math. and yet, the boy still sucks at arithmetic.
("computing is for computers!")

- upon learning that we spent our second date watching a Kurasawa film, his friend a- said, "keep her. any girl who will sit through samurai movies is perfect for you." i can't tell you how loudly that statement rings true in afterthought.

- he claims broccoli is poison, and yet he loves those disgusting hot dogs you get at the grocery 10/$1.00.

- on our first date - my first opportunity to see him in the flesh - he met me at the top of an escalator in a two-story borders. without exaggerating i tell you that when i realized that was him, my knees buckled. the boy has a lovely smile.

- normally quiet pisses off my best friend. when she met the comrade, it didn't bother her. must be all that soviet mystique.

- i was seeing this guy for weeks before i even managed a kiss out of him. REMEMBER THIS IS ME WE'RE TALKING ABOUT HERE - MISS "DO I REALLY HAVE TO KEEP MY PANTS ON..." (ok- i am not THAT bad...)
i was so baffled i consulted my other russian pal to see if it's a cultural thing or if he's just being a guy who's not that interested, who claimed that russian guys don't have female friends. if he is still doing things with me, he likes me.

- his best friend is a girl. good thing the important half of denis' statement was correct.

- perhaps a girl best friend, a sister, and mom (ie dad and the rotweiller being the only other males around) have something to do with it, but he seems to intuitively know how to handle my crazed hormonal episodes. pms hits me hard. as does spreading myself too thin and/or not sleeping sufficiently. reality can lose hold and cause me to freak the fuck out. he knows to leave the room, let it run its course for a few minutes, and then return with arms ready to hold tight until i get a hold of myself.

- "people who don't drink make me nervous." someone said that recently. normally i agree. but often it's paired with a self-righteousness that is hard to be around. but the comrade don't drink (me: "i am sorry, did they kick you out of russia for that? i thought vodka was in your nursing bottles?") he just doesn't drink, but nor does it bother him if i do. "just no driving."

- for someone it took FOREVER to seduce (according to me solely, he claims we probably moved a little too fast), it was certainly worth the wait. i promise not to bog you down with too many details, but let it suffice to say there are things in this (carnal) world that many women are too often denied or forced to ask for. in my world honey, it's a mandatory prerequisite. and this has never had to be discussed. YAHOOOOOOOO!!!

- he picks on me for loving "every song -" but then i catch him when i come home working on his thesis and listening to travis or the decemberists.

- it is truly a joy - and not unrefreshing - to find some trite or cliched or even just familiar piece of pop culture that is entirely unknown to my soviet-born love and watch him discover it. humming to myself as we walked to the park one day he said "what's that."
"a smith's song i have stuck in my head."
"a what?"
there are so many things i get to teach him. and so many i have to learn. my apologies to jd, who yesterday had to hear me go off on stalin for 15 minutes, after he helped me find another cheburashka tshirt.

- whereas i was raised to believe you tell people that you love that you love them ads often as possible because you never know what might happen, he only says it when he knows it will surprise me - ("the phone loves you. that is why it send that text message. not me...")

- between his analytical and practical self and my intuitive and romantic one, we balance each other out nicely.

- he is very thoughtful, especially towards my parents.

- he is the only man who can pick out jewelry for me.

- when i am getting ready to get in the shower or the bed and i bend over, he plants kisses on the small of my back.

- nobody rocks a sweater vest the way my man does. not even jerry.

- the boy loves heavy metal. we're talking the proggy evil kind with band names like haunted houses and tea flavors - moonspell, nightwish, cemetary, blind guardian - and yet the decemberists concert was too loud for him.

- a gentleman caller once drew attention to the following characteristics that define me/attracted him: love of beatles/jeff buckley, dancing, drinking, scotland - the only one of those that means anything to ilya is the beatles. and yet he is still taken with me/in love with me/ wants to marry me.

posted by trixievw @ 5:09 PM