Fit For Purpose

Mr TGTBT might hate this blog. Might cringe a little. And will definitely have to endure copious amounts of piss-taking from his colleagues. However. The anecdote needs to be shared.

One evening we were sat talking, something we both do very well and that has been a bit of a feature since Talking Shop. When we get going it's not just donkeys that need to keep an eye on their hind legs - ponies, horses and quite possibly even unicorns would do well to give us a wide berth. Anyway, this particular evening Mr TGTBT came clean out with something I had noticed him trying to disguise with self-deprecating comments on other occasions. Comments I told him were ridiculous.

During previous conversations I have told Mr TGTBT that Him played football twice a week - in the context of me griping about having to eat pasta every ruddy Tuesday and every ruddy Thursday, every ruddy frickin' week. The only time off I had from the tedious carbohydrate repetition was during the weeks when Him had sprained an ankle or pulled a muscle or whatever else it is that sporty types do when they get things wrong. And during the conversation with Mr TGTBT on the evening in question, I was talking about Him's visit on the previous day to collect some paperwork and his rowing machine.

Now Mr TGTBT had quite rightly deduced that Him is of the fitness variety and therefore must be 'quite buff and toned', I think that was his phrase. Again, brilliantly deduced insofar as yes, Him is quite obsessive about his fitness. (Fitness for not very much if you ask me, but as an end in itself it seemed to make Him happy.) In some muddled way it spilled out that Mr TGTBT had been doing the math in his head and also deduced that, by comparison, he might not be such an attractive physical specimen.

And yes, Mr TGTBT you might be right. If one wants a physical specimen. (Which sounds a lot like wanting Fizms to me.) But Mr TGTBT you are monumentally wrong if one wants someone who is attractive. Someone whose beauty is more than skin deep. I spent years with someone whose calf muscles were as hard as his heart, whose biceps were as big as the space between his ears and whose legs would run for miles when his soul couldn't take a single step in the right direction. The only person whose breath Him wanted to take away was his own.

I want to spend the rest of my years with someone who will take my breath away. Someone whose arms are strong enough to hold me tight but as gentle and warm as his heart. Someone who can exercise his brain as well as his right to be fallible and someone who can walk to the ends of the earth for those he loves and never look back in anger. Someone whose soul, without fear and without reservation, is fit enough to take on the challenge of sharing itself with another. An outrageously, unconsciously, beautifully, attractive someone. A someone that begins with Mister and ends in TGTBT.

And if - as the case may be - that supremely attractive someone also happens to have calf muscles somewhat better toned than mine, well, I can live with that. Because beauty is only skin deep and my stockings can hide a multitude of sins.

Yours in hope & fear, AJ x