Luckiest Guy in the Universe
[I let the cat out of the bag on “Five Things“, so I thought I’d provide a touch more detail here for the curious.]
That would be me. ((If you’re wondering what “that” refers to, reread the title.))
Because — despite all my bad luck, and all my idiotic decisions, and my having to reboot my life (again) at the age of thirty-two, starting over very much from scratch — I have met The One For Me, referred to occasionally around these parts as Herself.
Shocking news: She’s not Chinese.
Not-so-shocking news: She is Asian. (Hey, I want to guarantee my kids’ll be cute, so sue me. 🙂 )
We met online. Through blogging, in point of fact.
We’ve known each other pretty well for a year and a half, but met in person just recently.
I’m a dirty old man — I turned 32 at the end of December, she turned 21 near the end of November. Not quite eleven years’ difference.
She thinks I’m the bee’s knees, calls me a genius, praises me to the sky and back — which is a bit of a shock, given what she knows about me. (And she knows everything.)
In fact, she thinks I’m way out of her league. (It is, I assure the world at large, quite the other way around.) (I think she’s got a complex about my last serious girlfriend having been a neurobiology Ph.D.)
She doesn’t want me to identify her directly for now. Which has more to do with her life than with mine, oddly enough.
She’s singularly not jealous. We’ve girl-watched together. (And guy-watched, too, but to a lesser extent.)
She is not a rocket scientist, but she’s no dummy — she’s going into a medical profession, and is near the top of her class.
(My “rocket scientist” requirement is half-joking, half-serious. I like smart women. A lot. Herself thinks she’s not especially smart, and I disagree — she’s very sharp indeed.)
And she is a dish ((She describes herself as not-ugly. Judge for yourself.)):