trivial pursuit

Here are a few things I've learned from these past few days. One. If you quit drinking wine for two weeks and have managed to deflate, you will ultimately reinflate after two glasses on Saturday night. Two. If you are inevitably drinking these two glasses of wine, don't mention fertilisation to your poor innocent friend who is enjoying her diet coke. Three. If you do mention babies, fertilising and that is incompassed try not to bang on about it after your boyfriend has returned from the toilet. Four. If you do continue to bang on, try not to drag him into the conversation as it makes him uncomfortable too. Five. If you do drag him in and get him to mention baby names he likes and dislikes, try not to change his mind on the names that you decided a few weeks ago when battling insomnia (apparently my disease this summer, I can't fall asleep before 2am now, and neither can Chris). Six. If all these pieces of the pie come together then abandon play, cut your loses and get a frozen cheesecake. Wait two hours for it to thaw then enjoy.

This (being that, up there) and this (me waiving my arms about) isn't really funny. I have always sought after a tangible existence, preferably not digital, and holier than abstract and it's nearly be achieved. Chris and I, in order to prove our courtship and "intent to marry" have to prove that we are a couple. We need to show photographs, postcards, letters, joint bank statements, joint insurance claims, our one bedroom lease with both of our signatures. Tangible proofs of love but we've also been quizzing ourselves at night, just in case they ask us questions that one should probably know about another person. Pet names, weird silly expressions that we have for things, birthdays, important people in our lives, university majors, childhood traumas and happy holidays. I once referred to my love for Chris as sustainable, this made him laugh.