partner in crime

We're getting out of this city for the weekend.

I proposed San Francisco a few weeks back. She asked me why and I replied, "Just for the fuck of it."

Likewise, when I asked her earlier today if there was anything in particular she wanted to see or do in SF (a city to which she, a D.C. transplant, has never been) her reply was, "Yeah. Get the fuck out of L.A. for a few days."

I nodded in agreement.


*/*


You know that annoying little thing that couples always bring up about how they finish each other's sentences and think each other's thoughts at the same time?

Well, I'm afraid that she and I are a part of that annoying club. I noticed it from the first few multi-hour phone conversations we had after we first really met and chatted. I didn't want to say anything about it at the time, but she ended up bring that fact to the light after the first phone talk anyway.

Her comment on the phenomenon was one of surprise and astonishment. It wasn't a cheesy observation but rather a stark matter of fact. We both acknowledged the weirdness of it all, but we didn't let it dictate our budding friendship.

I love talking to her. One on one, our talks are easy and simple and yet disarmingly ornate. When the two of us start talking with others, though, we tend to get more intense: we laugh too much, or skip tangents too much, or rant too much. We end up scaring people. This makes us smile at each other because we both see it in the other and instead of letting it overwhelm us we decide that it would be better if it exhilarated us.

I can see how this would seem annoying to outsiders. But I don't care. Neither does she. And that settles it.


*/*


The truck I am driving belonged to my father before it ended up in my care. It's great, except the stereo needs to be swapped out. Right now only the radio tuner works. It used to have a working tape player but that is busted.

Music is a big factor for me as a driver. Hell, the only thing that kept me attached to my old car was that, despite its age and condition, the stereo kicked ass. Towards the end, though, the speakers blew and the CD player started to skip my albums more frequently. But it was loud, and I had a choice of what to listen to, so it made up for its drawbacks in spades.

As she and I planned our upcoming trip, she asked if we were taking the truck. When I confirmed it, she stared off into space for a second then said, "I'm bringing my boombox." I nodded in agreement, as I often do in her presence.

She looked at me again and said, "Sorry, I know you're a fabulous conversationalist, but after a while we're gonna need some fresh tunes. No offense."

I grinned. "None taken. It's an excellent idea. I would've done it had you not just pointed it out. You're on top of it, kid."

She smiled. She likes it when I think her ideas are sound. And I like her ideas because most of the time they are sane and sensible.

And the times when her ideas are totally insane and nonsensical? I like those too.


*/*


She was the one who coined the phrase "partner in crime".

Obviously, I don't mean that she was the first ever person in the history of persons to use that terminology. Rather, I mean that (in regards to what it is that we have) she was the first of us to say that designation out loud.

I thought about it often, but she gave voice to it first. And once again, I'm nodding that big ol' head of mine like a worn-out Bobble Head. But that analogy paints a despairing picture, when the reality is that I'm more than happy to go along with what she says. She doesn't boss me around or force it on me. I accept it all because (as she stated a while back) I am finally ready for all of it.

So that's what we are: partners in crime. And sometimes we kiss and snuggle, but mostly we just make each other laugh and seek out adventures.

That's cool with me.

I'm nodding in agreement as I type this.

And that settles it.