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James is one of those individuals that is competent at just about everything. He can pick up a new sport, or instrument, or skill with much ease, and very little frustration.

This drives me batty.

We’d be dating only 6 months, and took a trip to Bermuda to visit his grandparents. They offered for us to take a golf lesson at their club.

“FUN!” I thought, “A new activity that we can learn together.”

Remember, it was too early in the relationship for me to know any better.

He of course took to the sport like a duck to water, while I hatcheted the ground, and sent balls sailing into other members. I remember walking the course and threatening to throw the club into his head when he nearly hit a hole-in-one.

We have never golfed together again.

In general, I am not a sore loser. But it’s different with James. I’m all competitive and crazy. And it’s best if we just avoid situations wherein he can school me or one up me or generally kick my ass.

It also drives me nuts that he can gain 10 lbs over the course of a month (say, THE HOLIDAYS, i.e. now), and then loose double that in a weeks time just by willing it so.

Or that time his boss had been training for a half marathon for MONTHS, ya know, as one is supposed to do when running a marathon. He kept urging James to do it with him, and James toyed with the idea. About 2 weeks prior to the big race, James woke up and was all, “I think I’ll go for a run today. See how it feels. Maybe I’ll run that marathon with Tony after all.”

I giggled to myself, because there was NO WAY IN HELL the man was going to be able to run 13.6 miles with ZERO training, let alone physical activity, for the past 2 months.

Oh, how wrong was I.

James not only ran the half marathon, he came home claiming that he’d had to slow his pace to hang with Tony.

WHAT A THOUGHTFUL GUY!

I had refused to go watch on principal. Had he actually had some discipline and properly committed to the race, I could have been that passionate spouse on the sidelines with my butt checks painted in the letters J-A-M-E-S to cheer him over the finish line.

Maybe it’s for the best that things played out as they did.

The race was on a Sunday morning, and Monday at the office, James’ boss could barely move his limbs from the overall beating of running the race. James, however, strolled in, all hunky dory, free from pain, or waddling, or any form of discomfort.

I imagine Tony felt much the way I do 99% of my life: Incredibly jealous.

On Christmas afternoon we all went skiing. Neither James nor I had been since senior year of college. That’s six winters sans skiing. A couple hours in, my thighs had turned to Jell-O and I could feel the exhaustion of every muscle. But, not James! He was eager to keep going, and ski me into Gumby-like oblivion.

While I’ve been limping around the house for days, soaking in salt bathes, and massaging my sore, out-of-shape limbs, James has been strutting around, urging me to think about the next time we can go skiing, because MY GOD! IT WAS SO MUCH FUN!

And secretly, I find all of this totally swoon-worthy, but let’s keep that between you and me, okay?