In six months, Gwen Johnston turns thirty, and when she does, she vows she'll have her life together. She'll no longer be jumping from one job to another, from one relationship to the next. A new, more mature, Gwen will have emerged. She's giving he...
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Two and a half months later, Blake and I have fallen into something like a routine. At some point each day, he goes for a run or walk or swim or works out in the hotel gym—something. Turns out he has exercise rings on his watch, and he must close them each day. Thinking his pace would be a light jog, I tried to run with him one day. I nearly died. That was the end of that.
So far, my rules are working, even though I've gotten a bit bored of them and tried to push the boundaries. The first time I pranced around the hotel room in just a towel, I found rule number fifty-three added to the list—no towel-only attire in shared spaces.
That's not the only rule he's added. After a night where we watched TV together, the next morning I discovered he'd added rule number fifty-four, if you pick the movie, you cannot sit on your phone scrolling through social media instead of watching it.
The passive aggressiveness should have annoyed me, but it only made me laugh. He'd sat on his phone as well. So, I'd added rule number fifty-five and pinned it to the fridge in our kitchenette for when he returned from his exercise—no double standards.
From there, the rules have gotten a tad out of control. Each time one of us is annoyed, we add another number to the list. Pages of rules. Most of which I can't remember, but Mr. Human Sponge has no issues with pointing out which ones I have conveniently forgotten whenever it suits him.
True to his word, he's gone with me on any excursion that had even a whiff of danger whether it be a hike, a boat ride, or a sightseeing tour to a remote location. Secretly, I think he enjoys all these things I plan that he's "forced" to attend.
In observance of rule number four, he often ignores me for long stretches of whatever trip we're on. Not in a rude way, but the distance is deliberate. Since I'm the one with the falling in love problem, I pretend like his indifference is for the best. And it is. It is.
We already spend almost all our time together between shared hotel rooms and driving in the truck. A bit of a separation during the day, even if we're on the same fun trip, is totally the right way to play things. Definitely. One hundred percent. And when he's off doing his own thing, I don't even miss him at all.
God, how have I become so co-dependent? It's not even that I'm in love with him, I just like having him around, enjoy his perspective, often so different from mine. He's good company, which, honestly, on that bus trip, I would have mocked myself for even considering the possibility.
But there it is. Blake Robinson is an excellent travel companion. Through Alberta, Saskatchewan, Manitoba, and now on Manitoulin Island in Ontario, he's been the perfect blend of serious and fun.
Ugh. Why? Why does he have to be the perfect blend?
"Are you done in there thinking deep thoughts about which outfit to select?" Blake calls from the common room of our two-bedroom cabin. The additional bedroom everywhere must be costing him a fortune, but he never lets me pay half.
