My sweet Tadpole is a truly amphibuous creature. He spends hours in the bathroom and takes ridiculous amounts of time to get himself clean and ready. Since the wetlands are his habitat, and he also seems to have an affinity for Kermit, I have had to conclude that he is, in fact, a frog. A juvenile frog, due to his emotional purity. A tadpole.

'Equatorial', on the other hand, had to be added because he perpetually feels chilled at perfectly normal temperatures. The mediterranean continental / oceanic climate of Germany seems to be a test of his limits - I can only assume his kind must come from far warmer areas of the world, such as the tropics.

His enthusiasm and the purity of his emotions seem unrivalled.

The sweet noises he makes when I distract him from his current gaming obsession by carressing his arm, as though he appreciated having to do the race again.

His honesty. I have no fear that this man will ever lie to me.

His ability to enjoy the intellectual aswell as the mundane, with equal passion.

His eye for detail. He's a perfectionist extraordinaire.

His refusal to give me any of Apollo Four Forty's contact details that I don't have, myself. This may seem odd at first, since I'd like to have them, but I greatly prefer him sticking to his ideals.

And his gorgeous sex-appeal is a great bonus that makes it feel like it's Christmas each time I come home.

He scares me when he's angry at an inanimate object. The full scope of his emotional power becomes very tangible in those moments. I have no doubt he could shred me if he wished - but neither do I doubt that he would never do this.

His obsession with cars. No, that's not right - I very much like that he has an obsession, even that obsession... but unfortunately it means that he plays many racing games on our consoles. Again, that in itself doesn't bother me in the slightest, but due to my being sensitive about sounds, engine noises grate on my nerves almost as much as bathroom fans do. It is the monotony of the hum that slays me.

His urge for privacy in the bathroom. We only have one. Being disallowed access to the bathroom when you really need to go to the loo is not a good thing.

His eye for detail. He's so busy being a perfectionist that it deducts from the time he has for me.

I met my Tadpole due to our shared interest in a particular brand of music. The Equatorial Tadpole, you see, owns the Stealthography, one of the most important sources for Apollo Four Forty information that can be found on the web. I was quite impressed by the thorough nature of his discography, and initially messaged him to know which of Noko's listed names was actually his real one.

From that spawned a long eMailing history, lasting for no less than three years, in which we spoke about everything and nothing - particularly philosophy. Finally, Stealth Day in 2003, I was given opportunity to see him in all his glory in chat - and I have never fallen in love so instantly before. There he was, a gem, with a humour that fit my mood like a glove, and I had known him only superficially for three years?!

That had to change.

I was very fortunate that my fascination with this man was promptly returned in kind. Three years of intimate mental contact on life's deeper topics probably helped, but whatever it was, we eventually decided to meet up. I don't recall if we were both planning to see if we'd pounce on each other, but I do know that this was my plan.

Note that he had already been christened the Overlord of White Light in FourFortyism (in which the benevolent force is that of black light), so he was technically already a demi-god at the time.

Actually, our first meeting threatened to be a disaster.

The Tadpole is fourteen years older than me. "Disaster? Why? Since when do you care?" Ah, but I don't. He, however, did. Walking along the St. Peter Ording dam, he had to confess that he wasn't physically attracted to me - due to the age difference. It hurt like words can't describe. But of course I accepted it. I may not understand these social norms that keep faltering my stride, but I wish to harm or harrass no one. So I made a mental note to get back to looking for another soul mate, and we returned back home.

On his last day, we watched a movie together.

My nature is that of a cat - if I can, I must sprawl. The couch is mine, even if someone else is sitting on it. As such, Tadpole became the victim of kitten sprawling. His lap made for a good pillow. And for a while, all was as one would expect. Except from the point on where it was not.

Without wanting to spill his personal life here, let's just say that last day was pivotal - at least in my perception. Those words that had hurt me so had been rudely annihalated... and life was good.

Tadpole and I had our second meeting around the time of an annular eclipse in Iceland. I can't think of a more fitting way for someone of my affinity to darkness having all doubts removed that a friendship had just become a relationship - suffice to say that vacation will certainly always be remembered.

By now, Tadpole lives with me, and has taken so much liking of my studies that he's currently aiming for a Bachelor in media computer sciences. We're frightening alike, and I cherish our relationship - not only do I barely deserve the love and attention of someone as wonderful as him, but I have come to notice that ours is a special one... not quite devoid of drama, but the same is shortlived as we know better than to lock it up and mull over the same, leaving me looking forward to coming home each day.

He did take some convincing to understand my polyamoury in full, though. He's improved a great deal from a paranoid, possessive man to a vastly tolerant and self-esteemed fellow. I'm certain he now knows that he will never lose me, and my love for him will likely not diminish.