In case you are wondering just how dorky Craig and I can be, let me share with you this conversation we had this morning:
"Which do you want? Red or blue?" Craig asks, referring to the tops of the two pyrex containers holding leftovers to be taken for lunch?
"Guess," I answer.
He then proceeds to put the red into my lunch bag.
See, red is my very favorite color. In a manner, not unlike a nine-year-old, I surround myself with my favorite color. Red car. Red coat. Red cell phone. Red wallet. Red backpack. Red purse. Red. Red. Red. ad nauseum.
Craig's favorite color is blue. Though he doesn't feel the same passion for blue as I do for red.
This red/blue divide does not indicate any political divide within our relationship. In the States, we are both staunchly blue (with a tinge of green), so Craig's color "wins". Had we been living in the States, he might have muttered, "Republican" under his breath as he put made my lunch, just to get a rise out of me. However, in Canada, with the color divide inverted (here, we are so red, we're orange), he keeps silent as he hands me my lunch.
I can't resist though. As he takes his blue pyrex, I mumble, "Torie." He hears me, of course, and takes the bait, which then launches us into a debate as to weather it's better to be a "Liberal Republican" or a "Conservative Democrat". Is it better to be my former senator, Evan Bayh (whom I find to be a despicable, slimy, opportunist who doesn't hold values so much as a weather vain to determine which way the political wind is blowing), or to be Craig's former governor, Mitt Romney (whom Craig's sees as a despicable, slimy, opportunist who doesn't hold to values so much as a weather vain...).
At this point, my lunch made and a bus arriving in minutes, the conversation seems to end as we kiss goodbye. As I head out the door, I mutter, "Evan Bayh" once more. "Mitt Romney," he calls after me. Then, both repulsed by the insults we have hurled at each other, we apologize, kiss again, and I leave.