As is my wont, I like to occassionally taunt Crankypants with other guys I think are cute. Usually, they're actors or big sports stars, and therefore in the abstract realm, as in that I'll never meet them, and therefore he's safe. Or they're 'everyday' people, and he trusts me, or some crap like that. Little does he realise that this following passage from Carrie Ann Wilner's article on Nerve describes me perfectly:

Thing is, I'm a shitty girlfriend. You could fuck me all day and take me out to dinner, and I'd still flirt with the cute waiter while you were in the bathroom. That's how it goes. If I find someone attractive, I want to mess around with them, simple as that. It's not so much infidelity as it is greed. And pragmatism: if your relationship collapses, why not have a blue-eyed, nineteen-year-old painter as backup?

Although I probably wouldn't cheat on him. Not unless the "blue-eyed, nineteen-year-old painter" in question was Jude Law, or Brad Pitt. Or the hot TA from the summer, but only after having a fight with crankypants and not getting to see him for 6 weeks. Thus naturally, I let him know about my newfound affection for surfers. Surfers, however, are very meetable, as we are shortly going to be in a place where they will be very accessible. This is how a recent exchange went:

Him: So. Surfers, huh?
Me, all perky and shit: Hell yeah. They're really hot. And buff. But unfortunately short. Did you know that Kelly Slater is only 5'9?
Him: Well, I guess you'll have to make do with a taller*, lanky yet still buff, wannabe surfer.
[Note: He says he's 6'5, but I only let him claim 6'4 because I don't want him being more than a foot taller than I am.]

While this doesn't seem like a lot, you don't understand. He never displays anything even approaching jealousy. Not when I have dinners at nice expensive places with exes. Not when I tell him that my TA is super-hot and has asked me out. Not when I tell him that my lab partner is really hot and that I'll be working in close proximity with him for 6 weeks, nor when said lab partner asks me to go back to Oxford with him and continue my studies there. Not even when I have exes who are still in love with me stay overnight (with him on the futon, naturally). This is huge.

Baby steps, people. Baby steps.