Me and Mr. Jones (Lovesick or sick of love?)

Together in happier times, camping near the Sahara, Santahamina.

The first few months of new relationships are often referred to as the honeymoon period.

A time when couples are so wrapped up in one another they are oblivious to most else.

In particular, the dumb looking grimaces they wear, public decency and each other’s flaws.

Mr. Jones and I have been no exception.

We have been inseparable since day one, doing even the most of mundane of tasks together.

Like a giddy teenager I get butterflies before our dates to the shooting range each week, where we have been hitting it off in all sorts of positions.

He showers me with gifts, like the very sought-after golden trigger badge.

He is taking me with a holiday, a reward for scoring so well on my shooting exam*.

And recently became a resident in my building to be closer to me … shucks!

It’s certainly been a whirlwind romance.

I hate to admit it but now the two-month period has passed I’m thinking that some of the shine is wearing off.

Because for all the things I love, like the lingering scent of gunpowder, some of his habits are starting to bite.

For one, Mr. Jones is a typical metro, obsessed with his appearance and very high maintenance.

After every outing he insists on being wiped down with cotton wool and sheets to be rid of every speck of dust and dirt.

Once spotless, and I mean spotless, he expects me to oil him from head to toe.

I’m not comfortable with the idea of a man whose beauty regime trumps mine.

Mr. Jones is also clingy, and rarely is he more than three steps from my side.

Whilst flattering, sometimes his presence feels like a weight around my neck, slowing me down.

He is also known to have a temper, and twice now we have butted heads – literally – in the heat of the moment, ouch!

Don’t get me wrong we are still very much one happy couple, it just appears that the honeymoon may have drawn to an end.

Sgt. (standing by her man) Sana

* I was one of three soldiers in the company to earn a day off for excelling on the shooting exam, which tested accuracy from different positions, distances, and with moving targets.

I also earned the afternoon off, while others continued shooting, but spent it at the veksi (doctor) because a tick had made its home on my leg – eewww!

 

 

   

Mr. Jones hanging out with his friends just outside my door.

Mr. Jones and I spend the morning together at the shooting range. Target 150m.

Mr. Jones in pieces baring all.