It’s time I returned the favour and wrote a blog about my new flatmate Dave.
Mostly because I don’t think he’s ever friended a non-lesbian girl without them falling in love (I’m still dubious as to whether or not I should be proud of my ownership of this title), so this will be your first objective view of Dave Cornthwaite, or ‘Gingy’ as I have affectionately named him after he begged for the 5th time for us both to, like, be cool and have nicknames for each other.
Dave and I are connected opposites, which is fun, like riding a see-saw. He’s a Hugger; loves a good hug. I’m a Spacer; love a good metre of clean oxygen between me and the nearest Hugger. Dave loves Love. His latest crush is the happiest animal in the world, an Australian Quokka. I married someone and I still can’t answer the question ‘Have you ever been in love?’ with any certainty.
My favourite part of the day is a risotto bubbling on the stove, the cracking open of a wine (or gin) and lounge music playing in the background as day turns to eve. Dave hasn’t cooked a proper meal (which, after some discussion, I work out means ‘with vegetables’), about, well, ever. The first night I suggested he cook, 5 days after he arrived, he bought me a hamburger and fries from down the road.
What keeps these opposites merry points of laughter rather than clashing contentions is a curiosity about life and a dry sense of humour constantly employed to express our mutual affection of all things wholly inappropriate. Like fat people. And constipation.
Dave is in the bathroom so I change into some jeans, tug open the shoelaces of my sneakers I lazily kicked off a few days earlier, tie them on and walk to the little store down the block to buy some eggs and bread for our – my – cook up this morning. I get back, wash and dry up the dishes and cook some bacon. Dave’s still in the bathroom.
I don’t want to alarm anyone but if Dave is messaging or emailing you, liking your posts on facebook or watching your latest video post, he’s likely doing it on the loo. I’ve started anticipating whether I’ll need to go or not in the next hour just to make sure I get in there before he does.
Speaking of a past expedition Dave says ‘I didn’t really like it but it was a formative experience for me anyway.’ Of course it was Dave. Brewing your morning coffee is a formative experience for you, which explains why Dave is such an inspirational being to so many. He knows himself.
His intensity and sureness about life is controversial and infectious. Our vegetable vendor has moved from Paraguay to Spain because of the recession and Dave wants to know how to say ‘The Recession is in your Mind‘ in Spanish. I plead ignorance and we leave, bag of vegetables intact. His opinion on beggars, particularly the well dressed type that are increasingly peppering the streets of Spain, is that there are better ways for someone without money to spend their talents and skills than sitting on a step all day looking at a cup.
My own ignorance is too wide on these matters to tell whether he’s ahead of the curve or a few crayons short of a box but it does make me think; how can I use my resources better? Dave has that wonderful temperament of authoritative humility, able to offer advice and encouragement as easily as a joke.
Which is what I think I’ll love most about living with Dave for the next 10 weeks; everyone he comes into contact with, is left a better person for it.
Except for the fatty he had lunch with yesterday, that is.