Himself and Queenie - the saga continues

Those of you who follow this blog will know about Himself in Nova Scotia, who moved too far away and became Himself in Alberta, and the dastardly way in which he asked Queenie to go visit him there because he missed her, and then told her (seven effing hundred and fifty dollars later) that he thought it would be best if they didn’t see each other anymore.

And how Queenie had a right royal tantrum about the whole thing.

Because even though she was happy for him to make his own decisions, she thought that maybe this was the wrong decision. Being very taken with Himself. Herself.

Then you’ll recall how Queenie had a wonderful day just before Christmas, which she calls Schadenfreude Sunday, where Himself sent a scouting party across enemy lines, in the form of an email, then followed it up with a phone call announcing a complete rethink on the whole ‘it would be best if we didn’t see each other any more’ scenario.

And a request to see Queenie the week before Christmas.

Which Queenie granted. Because she believes in giving people a second chance.

Having needed a few in her time.

And then Himself in Alberta flew back from Alberta and drove straight home to his mammy’s house and never called in to see Queenie.

Who thankfully had realised this was about to happen (due to having a very highly developed intuitive sense of the male psyche at this point) and therefore spent the night out on the town with Shazz revenge flirting in a series of Haligonian bars.

But Queenie was right pissed off, as we say at home.

Rightly so.

She had cooked dinner and bought him a Christmas present the previous weekend.

However, what most of you don’t know is that the day before the day before Christmas, when Queenie was packing for New Jersey, Himself called. To explain.

Queenie hadn’t called him to confirm things, he said.

Queenie pointed out that she had told him to call her.

Himself said he had thought Queenie probably wouldn’t want to see him, so he had decided not to call in, although he was regretting it very much now.

Queenie shouted then.

At length.

Himself knows Queenie well enough at this stage to know she only shouts at him when he has completely screwed things up by making what should be a joint decision unilaterally, based on what he reckons Queenie is probably thinking, rather than what she is actually thinking.

Queenie hates being thunk for.

More than anything.

Himself, being wise in the Ways of Queenie, also knows that the best thing to do when Queenie starts shouting is to keep saying sorry until she runs out of expletives and breath. And then say it a few more times until she calms down. Then say it a few more times until she starts seeing the funny side of things.

And then say it a few more times. Just to be on the safe side.

Himself requested another audience.

Queenie granted it.

Grudgingly. Because she doesn’t really believe in third chances.

Then she went to NJ/ NYC and worried about it for five days.

Himself emailed her in New Jersey to tell her he’d meet her at the airport when she got back. And never ever ever fuck up again. Ever.

Which sent Queenie into a tailspin of panic.

Due to the level of commitment being indicated by the email. Which of course meant that Queenie had to make a decision, which she hates doing.

But as Jersey Girl pointed out, she needed a lift home from the airport.

Why does Queenie constantly face these tough decisions?

Anyways, that was two weeks ago.

Himself in Alberta is now Himself in Nova Scotia. He is not going back to Alberta.

All was grand, until about a week ago, when Queenie suddenly remembered that, actually, she had given him a second chance during the summer one time when he was supposed to pick her up from the bus and sent his brother instead because he was playing hard to get.

So really, Himself was on his fourth chance.

Which is unusual; but not unprecedented in the history of interpersonal relations.

But it is probably one too many chances.

When Queenie pointed this out to Himself, he nearly laughed, but caught himself in time and assured Queenie that he appreciated ALL the chances he had been given. Very much. And he was going to prove to Queenie that he was worth all those chances.

Himself said all this in a very solemn voice.

But his eyes were smiling and dancing while he was talking.

Which is why Queenie likes Himself, of course. Because he's his own person.

This week Himself came up for a visit on Friday evening and we went to Gingers’ and Queenie stayed out too late even though she knew she had to go to work on Saturday. So she went out canvassing with a tired body and a sore head and it wasn’t that nice, what with all the underpants and marijuana clouds and the overheated apartment buildings and being dressed for the outdoors.

She finally finished and got a lift home around three thirty. Sitting in the car as it crossed the McDonald Bridge, she sighed as she realised she had no supper makings in the house and thought ‘oh well, at least Himself will drive her down to the supermarket’. Then she invited the (also) experienced canvasser in for a coffee and found Himself in the kitchen making supper for her (And enough for ten other people that hadn’t actually been invited round, but the food’s here if anyone fancies a free meal this week!), having found the supermarket by himself.

Having thought of finding it himself.

And then he listened to herself and the (also) experienced canvasser rant about politics for ninety minutes. Without yawning once.

And then he rubbed her feet till they stopped hurting. Without being asked to.

As all you girls out there know, there's nothing more indecisive than a bloke who can't make up his mind and there's nothing more decisive than a bloke who decides he has.

As Queenie found out today.

But more about that next week.