Happily Ever After_ - Benison Anne O'Reilly [13]
However, without doubt my favourite Tonyism was (cue drum roll) - the germ phobia.
‘Aark! Think of the germs,’ he shrieked one day in a most unmasculine like way when he caught me double-dipping a spoon into a pasta sauce that only the two of us were planning to share.
‘Well, if you’re so afraid of a few girl’s germs we better stop kissing then - and sex while we’re at it.’
‘Okay, I suppose if you put it like that.’
Even so, I used to sometimes catch him eyeing me suspiciously whilst I was doing the cooking. I wondered where this all came from until I got to spend more time in the company of his mother. I’m not saying his neat-freak tendencies didn’t sometimes grate (‘Yes, I know if I leave a wet towel on the floor it won’t dry properly - I just occasionally forget, okay’) but for the most part I found this aspect of his personality reassuring, almost cute even. It made him seem more human and less like the cool football hero of his high school days.
What I didn’t understand immediately was that this was all part of a larger issue, one that was not so benign. Tony is a perfectionist: everything he does, he does to the best of his ability. Whatever he lacks in natural aptitude he makes up for with application, studying and practising for the task at hand - whether it be kicking a rugby ball or sitting a flying exam - until he’s got it just right. Nothing is left to chance. But as a consequence of arriving in the world with ‘designated high achiever’ stamped on his birth certificate, and having this belief reinforced by his parents throughout his childhood, and pretty much achieving everything he’d ever set his mind to, he has a tendency to be intolerant of people who do not meet his exacting standards, which I’m afraid is most of the rest of us.
A less charitable person might describe Tony as a control freak but you didn’t hear it from me.
An incident from around this time brought this all home to me. My dear friend Tracey was visiting town from Melbourne and I was eager to introduce her to my new boyfriend, so I organised dinner for the three of us at a city restaurant. Tracey is a lawyer and probably the most intelligent person I know, smarter even than my brother. She is also fiercely funny and one of my favourite people. It’s not a good idea to drink too much in her company (although I inevitably do) because you have to keep your wits about you just to keep up with the flow of conversation, otherwise you’ll be left far behind her in her intellectual wake. She cracked me up laughing throughout the meal as she recounted some of her appalling client stories and we reminisced about the bad old days at school.
Tony was quiet all evening and when he left us to visit the boy’s room Tracey interrupted our conversation to say, ‘I don’t think your boyfriend likes me very much.’
‘As if. How could he not like you? It’s just a bit boring listening to other people drone on about their school days if you weren’t part of it. I should know - I’ve been bored shitless by Tony’s rugby mates often enough. We should probably just change the subject.’
‘Yeah maybe.’
I didn’t think much of it until we were driving home later.
‘Isn’t Tracey absolutely hilarious? I just love her.’
‘Hmm,’ he replied, not exactly bowling me over with his enthusiasm. ‘She’s clearly very smart. It’s just that I don’t know how she could let herself get that way.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh come on now. She’s huge. You can’t say you haven’t noticed.’
‘She’s always been big. That’s just Tracey.’
‘Big? More like obese. And