Say No More

Saturday I signed up for this personal training power pilates thing with a mate in a desperate attempt to be bikini ready before my Italy trip with NicB next month. Whilst filling out the forms which waive the company of all responsibility when you kill yourself or the trainer kills you (during one of many movements where your feet and hands are tied to opposite ends of a machine and the trainer is gleefully pulling your legs into an abnormal V shape), my mate turned to me and said, "who is your in case of emergency?" You, I said. Me? Yes you, your sister is a doctor, so I figured you could step up if I was in 100 pieces. Were you planning on telling me this, she says. I just told you didn't I? Look of utter indifference from her, followed by, "Well, you know I would tell them to pull the plug, you have a good jewellery collection even though your shoes are too big for me."

Fast forward to Tuesday night when NicB and I are celebrating his passing all these exams he's been doing lately at a new Italian restaurant in my hood. In the Italian mode we started jabbering about our trip and how excited we were. I promised not to work on the trip, but we decided that I had to bring my phone as it has GPS etc. NicB said he wouldn't be bringing his, but that we should put his parents/brothers numbers in my phone. In jest he laughed and said, wouldn't that be awful if the first conversation you had with my mum was to tell her I was dead? Uh huh, yeah, hillarious. Anyway, he then said the 6 words that I have waited my whole life to hear. You may laugh, but it's true. He may as well skip the whole ring/proposal thing, becuase this was way more important to me:

"I should be your emergency contact"

If my life were a movie, the poignant line would be: You had me at I should be your emergency contact.