Wobbling along nicely

Men are a strange lot.

The other night I sat with Wobbles as he read. I was writing down a few plans and started absent mindly scribbling on the inside of the cardboard of my empty anti-depressants packet. As a joke I presented him with my ink doodle that had taken minutes to create. He was instantly enchanted. He looked at it very closely and made some very complementary comments. So I took it back, signing and dating it as if it was some great work of art. Later as we got ready for bed, I noticed Wobbles carefully picking up my prescription box scribble and taking into his study. This man who never picks up after himself and wouldn’t notice three week old milk if it was left to fester on the kitchen table in the summer hear.

What was he doing with it I asked? Wobbles was a bit hesitant to tell me what he was up to. He planned to scan it so he could have a copy and archive the original so to preserve it forever. Such a simple gesture, made completely touching in its honesty.

Perhaps I have not had the best male role models; a highly critical father until his death shortly after I turned 17 and two brothers who were particularly fond of the “fat, ugly, stupid” tag for far longer than the even the norms of standard sibling rivalry should allow. Then I certainly wasn’t fat, but issues of body, appearence and intelligence highlighted back then have never left me. Outside of family there was the first love I met as an undergraduate. He swallowed me whole then spat me out years later when I was no longer of use to him. The hurt remained for a long time after and I am certain assisted my low self esteem in making some very appalling decisions in relation to men for the next decade. When I finally decided I had seen the worst of the male of the species I gave up on ever having any real connections with them again. Within a year I bumped into the man I would playfully dub ‘Wobbles’.

I named him Wobbles one day during a walk along the beach. We often discuss story ideas and after he’d just almost tripped me up again as we walked – due to his inability to walk in a straight line – I hit upon the idea of a delightfully vague children’s character named Professor Wobbles. We had a good laugh about his wobbly tendencies. Now when he portrays any of his unique personal traits and individual habits, he is simply having a case of ‘the wobbles.’

My darling Wobbles has difficulty backing the car straight out the short distance of the driveway. The dents to the fence posts, the side of the house and the car are all evidence of this. Sometimes he puts items of clothing on backwards or inside out (or both at the same time!) and does not notice. I had warned him his penchant for wearing hopelessly mismatched socks would one day cause him embarrassment. This habit would continue until a lively physiotherapist pointed out the odd socks as Wobbles stripped down to have his calves worked on. During summer Wobbles uses a trowel to put sun protection lotion on and attempts to leave the house with a face looking like Marcel Marceau. I need to thoroughly inspect him in case there is something ‘wobbly’ about his appearance.

Wobbles is a mass of contradictions. He is not sentimental over birthdays or anniversaries. We are yet to spend a Christmas together (our parents being located in different states) and yet he gets tearful on reading some of my blog posts. This from the man who is a danger behind the wheel and who sometimes has trouble dressing himself. He has a powerful intellect and holds no less than five university degrees. Yet he has no pretences about himself as all. This simple farmer’s daughter has had her fill of males with king size superiority complexes, a type she learnt to steer well clear of a couple of decades ago.

His support of me during IVF treatments has been both unwavering and stoical.  Giving Lifeslurper encouragement, especially during depression must be particularly hard. Yet still he keeps on. The fact that he did not hesitate to entrust his hopes for having a family with me; the woman already past 40 with unknown fertility speaks volumes for his character.

One of the most amazing things for me is his belief that I am endlessly talented and creative. He believes me to be the good and decent person I have always wanted to be. Yet, he does not place me on any pedestal, politely bringing back to earth if I get ahead of myself. The feeling of unconditional love is both thrilling and endlessly rewarding.

Should I be surprised that he was so touched by my simple little sketch? Probably not! Does he ever cease to surprise me? Never, ever!

He might be a bit wobbly, but I plan on keeping him!