61

Today is Joe's birthday.

We met when we were 16 and in high school. He is now 61 and I am 60. For two months I will enjoy being the youngster in the relationship. The jokes I make over the next few weeks I will make the same kinds of jokes that I have made for nearly 45 years. Joe will laugh at them, even though he's heard them all before, because that's what Joe does. He finds a lot funny.

I'm lucky that I found someone with both a sense of humour and a sense of kindness. Those two traits make Joe an exceptional person. I was speaking the other day with someone about how relationships fall apart when the spectres of disability or disease raise themselves. When she mentioned this I hadn't even thought that I should count myself either lucky or fortunate. It had never crossed my mind. Joe's just not that kind of man.

He's the kind of man that's kind, and funny, and patient ... and who can piss me off faster than anyone else alive.

He's the kind that Harumphs.

I'm the kind that pouts.

The neighbours think we're quiet.

Neither of us do much for our birthdays, we never have, it's hard to think of something special to do when you figure that every day is kind of special - and I'm not being trite. I think we've never taken our relationship for granted because we became a couple when the world demanded that we live as singles. We never had the approval of church or state. We never had to return the extra microwaves, still wrapped in wedding paper. We never listened to those who said it wouldn't, couldn't, shouldn't last. We just made sure it did.

So we'll do ordinary stuff today.

Just ordinary stuff.

But it will be special simply because he's a year older than me. I'm a year younger than him. And in a relationship like ours, that's fun enough.