My Valentine has really hairy legs (and huge ears), now you're probably thinking I'm referring to my dog, but you're wrong. Fate, and a random woman in the mall have decided that my Valentine is my dear old Dad.
This was decided several years ago, in an incident that lead to me creating a rule that I would not go out in public on Valentine's Day (ever) again. I was innocently waiting on a bench in the mall, for my
OH MY GOD LADY are you freaking serious? I am not that desperate and I have not lost my god damn marbles, I am quite competent to determine who is and is not my husband and I run pretty hot under the collar so you might want to step off! Can you believe people?
But I will say this, living with your elderly parents is very much like being married to a couple of 80 year olds. We don't sleep together but I'm there for pretty much everything else. All the sights, sounds, and smells, constant loss of keys and other important things, squabbling, senior moments, loss of social and cognitive skills are mine to enjoy. Put it this way, if I get married now or in the future, and I end up staying with the person until we ourselves are elderly, it will be my second long term commitment to geriatric care.
But how about those hairy legs.... because I believe the title promises hairy legs. And my Dad has them galore. Well there's only 2 legs, but the hair, now that is some bad ass, long, curly, thick, incredible hair action that he has going on. What's up with that?
Its no exaggeration to say that my Dad has famously hairy legs. Its hard to say how hairy he would have been naturally (I suspect very hairy) had he not routinely shaved himself as smooth as a baby's bottom as you can see in the photo above (and please don't ask me why he is wearing a mini skirt. I really do not know and its freaking me out). Is that a come hither pose? A hairless man in a mini skirt (with his nephew playing in the foreground) should be my Dad's internet dating photo if, heaven forbid, something happen to my mum. I can answer why he shaved himself though, because my dad was a serious competitive cyclist - this is what they used to do I dunno for aerodynamics, and possibly also because it helps if you crash and get road rash and there are not massive hairy clumps between yourself and medical assistance. Serious enough to qualify for the Commonwealth Games, so I guess it paid off.
Of course the price he paid was being notoriously hairy for the rest of his life. One time on a family vacation we were in a cave, and the tour guide was pointing out different things that we should pay attention to, and he said "next to the man with the hairy, bandy legs" and pointed at my Dad..... and everyone looked at my Dad and probably not at all at the cave.
But I will say Dad is a good sport about the whole hairy thing.You can say anything about those legs and he just accepts it.
He once came into my office and said: your fan doesn't keep this room very cool.
Me: that's because its not a circulating fan, its directed only at me.
Dad: (after standing directly in front of fan, and blocking vital cool air off me) Its still not very cool.
Me: that's because your legs are too hairy, you can't feel it.
I'm sorry I can't stop staring at the photo of my Dad. Its just too hilarious. Considering my Dad came out of his first marriage - divorced and carrying less photographs than the average refugee - its bizarre that he kept this of all photos. Though not bizarre that first wife didn't keep it.
So all joking aside, my Dad and I have walked a hard road, we are completely different people who very often do not get along for both real and imagined reasons, but I am grateful he loves me enough to persevere and keep me around, and we do make each other laugh, and we love each other, and that makes him my Valentine, of sorts. Its not romantic, but its life.