When it comes to romantic relationships, no one likes a bragger. Lord knows I spent many a dry spell suffering through the obnoxious gushing of my spoken-for friends, having to hear all about how unique and stimulating their partners were, while I sent worried relatives articles about 60-year-old first-time moms to assuage their anxiety about my future. But every now and then, a girl finds herself in a serious, long-term relationship that she just knows is special. And after our three months together, I think the world deserves to hear about how truly explosive my Robbie is. Seriously, in all honesty, he’s kind of like a radioactive wolf living in the Chernobyl forest. It’s that kind of good.
Robbie is not your typical guy. Some guys put on an act, but Robbie, he exudes something—something like radiation. It floats around him like an aura. He glows with it. It’s like he’s one of those wolves that have dangerously high levels of radiation in their bodies due to living near a permanent disaster zone, yet are somehow still living.
Once I made the connection to his spirit animal, the similarities were hard to ignore. For one thing, Robbie is the kind of person who feels very connected to nature. His favorite dates are always the ones we have outside, whether we’re going for a walk in the park, going for a walk in a meadow, or trespassing into the abandoned ruins of an old isotope beam factory. He’s practically an amateur zoologist, always identifying local wildlife by their tracks and scents and also sniffing the air telling me when the levels are too high for me and I need to get out soon. He cares about me like that. It’s as natural to him as breathing or running in confused circles.
There’s just something cool about Robbie: He lets his hair get long, and has a third arm growing out his shoulder blade.
Not that I’m complaining about Robbie’s body. I’ve dated some real jocks before, but Robbie is just plain huge. Some guys may have six-packs, and, but Robbie is the only man I know who’s got a sixteen-pack that continues to form new packs. As if that wasn’t sexy enough, Robbie just seems to keep growing. Bulges pop up in places I didn’t even know the human body had muscles. Also, he vibrates.
It’s amazing to have someone who’s so completely mine and also mutant-wolf-like.
Of course, no man is perfect in every way, and not all of Robbie’s radioactive lupine tendencies are positive. He might get a little more jealous than your average boyfriend would—a little territorial, even. Worst-case scenario, it leads to aggression against trees and cars; best-case scenario, he’ll bring me lots of gifts (although at this point, I honestly don’t know what to do with all these bison jugulars). But it’s nothing that can’t be fixed by a little display of ownership, which, once you get over the searing embarrassment of being publicly pissed on by your boyfriend, is really harmless. I have my own quirks that he puts up with, too!
Whether any of these comparisons mean anything or not, the point is Robbie really is a special guy. Who cares if all the livestock in our county have vanished? What does it matter that there’s no record of his existence prior to the spring of 1986? Like the twins all of his past girlfriends have given birth to, Robbie and I are inseparable. When we touch, I feel sparks—and waves of nausea. Mostly sparks, though!
I love you, Robbie!