My man is a fisherman. In fact, I call him... The Fisherman. I call him this because he at his very happiest when he is fishing. Hell, if I were as good at fishing as he is, I'd spend my days in the river too.
The Fisherman is a very Good man. He loves my cat. Is kind to all strangers. Loves slow old country songs. And can split a tree into logs to keep me warm in the winter.
Not bad, eh?
But yesterday, the reason I loved him best...?
I was exhausted, and badly needing a day in bed. I was laying there, like a dull, aching potato, sprawling with the cat. So I called out...
"Fisherman?" in my best I'm-in-need-of-being-babied voice. "Can you pick me out a movie?"
I have a rather eclectic collection of VHS tapes that I dearly love, so I knew anything he brought me would be okay, but in the Blah i was in...? Very little would have made me perfectly happy.
And then, he brought me "Tango & Cash". If there were any moment in my life where I felt more gotten than any other...? That might be the one.
Oh, and best line from T & C? Stallone is Tango, the tough, Armani wearing, stock market playing, Super Cop. He pins a villian up against a wall, and looks down at a plate of pasta the man was about to eat. "By the looks of your diet, you're not interested in counting calories. Is that because you're too busy counting the money you were paid to SET US UP?!!"
Aaaaah. I love it.
But not nearly as much as the man who knew I would love it.
Thanks, Fisherman. You've got it, mister.