I realise that I rarely write about the man love of my life.
This isn’t because he is shy or doesn’t want to be spoken about. Quite the opposite in fact, he says I don’t speak enough about him.
He just isn’t nearly as hilarious as the rest of us – kidding, he’s our glue.
So here it is, the Rory edition.
Rory and I met about 9 years ago.
I was a shallow, pretentious, arty type who was only interested in myself and doing whatever made me happy regardless as to whether it made others happy, or not.
Rory was a nice, smiley, sweet, sensible accountant.
I didn’t think he’d like me at all but still I plucked up the courage to get drunk and ask him on a date. And the rest, as they say, is history.
|Rory, he’s a serious chap.|
We may have seemed unlikely but we work. With hindsight my drinking, being a knobber and acting out was probably just me behaving like a toddler because I actually felt like my ship had sailed and I had no purpose in life.
Rory rocked up and provided that purpose.
I remember him once saying to me
“I don’t agree with some things you do but if you ever need me to come and get you, I will”
Seems that little sentence was enough for me to pull myself together.
|The olden days.|
In some ways Rory is my exact opposite, he likes sport, running for fun (urgh) and ‘activities’.
He’s sensible and frugal, a typical Yorkshireman.
He’s also cynical, hilarious, (well pretty funny), patient (I can be trying) and accepting. He’s just brilliant and for the last five years he’s been a fantastic daddy too.
I always feel bad when other people go on about how bad their partners/husbands are.
“My Geoff never cooks”
“George is always out drinking”
I can’t *really* join in.
Rory is actually pretty fabulous.
He gets the children ready every morning, he knows how important it is to me to get my face on. Not because I’m vain but because he knows I don’t human well if I feel shit about myself.
He does pretty much all the washing and ironing, the downside is he sees the 7kg capacity on the washing machine as a challenge and puts in mega loads that I have no space to dry.
He cooks a lot, my parents prefer his cooking to mine. They never say as much but they get all gushy and
“Rory, this is sooooo nice. Anna that curry you made was good but this is different…. It’s really lovely”
He makes sure he’s home for bedtime every time he can be (the children’s not mine) even if he’s really busy at work.
He’s always been hands on with the children, from them being babies he’s taken turns on the night shift, even if he had work. He didn’t see it a chore, just his responsibility as a daddy.
He buys me shoes just because (then he complains I have too many).
He doesn’t laugh when I cry and get upset about stories in the news, he just hugs me.
He hides his annoyance when I get changed five times before we go out because I feel fat and ugly.
He loves my family even though they’re all a bit weird.
A lot weird.
I’m the normal one.
He never makes me feel bad for not working, he never makes snarky comment about it. He never questions why the house is occasionally a bomb site even though I’ve been home all day. He never makes me feel like I contribute nothing of importance. I worry that he will think those things but he doesn’t. Or he hides it well.
He has helped me become a better and happier person just by being his wonderful self, don’t get me wrong, I still fret about being a terrible parent/girlfriend/human but he assures me I’m doing OK.
He lets me take all my crap on holiday, even when we both know it’s too much.
He isn’t entirely perfect though, he does have his bad points too.
He leaves cupboard doors open in the kitchen.
He doesn’t finish things, like if there’s a big bag of crisps open in the cupboard he’ll leave two just so he hasn’t finished them. We have last episodes of TV shows that we’ve not watched, I’m pretty sure because he doesn’t want them to be finished.
He will happily watch ANY football on the TV.
He has the capacity to remember EVERYTHING. This is both a positive and a negative.
He is always right, even when he is wrong.
He takes magazines into the bathroom. *Wretch*
He is a skinny chap but thunders around upstairs like a small elephant. Or when he turns over in bed he kind of leaps so the whole thing bounces.
He doesn’t like to discuss serious issues at bedtime/3 am. He’s trying to sleep apparently.
He won’t marry me even though I’ve asked loads. I’m sure he’ll cave one day just to shut me up.
So that’s Rory, in brief.
He’s my best friend.
My fellow Francophile (we WILL live the dream one day).
My Dr Jekyll.
My Julian Barratt (You can research that yourself if you’re not cool enough to know already *winkyface*).
|Daddy and transport all in one.|
Most importantly though, he is the best Daddy. Aoife and Seth are lucky little folk for sure.
Disclaimer: For the purpose of this review I received a Rory V1.0 for free. I have reviewed it honestly and would not endorse a product that I don’t truly believe is great.