Speaking of...with Jake Howie

Season 1: Episode 1

Speaking of… Love, in today’s story, comedian, Kiwi and all-round sweetheart Jake Howie charms us with poetry about his husband of 3 years, Luci.

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Pasta by Jake Howie

I’ve never understood it until now, the day before my 35th birthday. It’s the same age Carrie was in Season 1 of Sex and the City, and I wonder if she knew. Whenever people used to say they “created” a life with their partner, I’d cringe, it sounds unhinged. Like, what the fuck? I have created my life, it wasn’t luck. I’ve been in love before (twice, to be exact) and you were the third. My Golden Eagle. I remember my first love – I was lucky. It was beautiful. But I never created anything with him that felt like it was our thing…the only thing he created was drama.

But today, on the eve of my 35th birthday as you’re somewhere over Russia on your way home and I am sitting here feeling old and like I have 5 chins after all the Christmas chocolate, I clicked. We have created a life together, after nearly six years of co-existing. That’s some Jane Austen levels of romantic. But I miss you, and in the missing is the longing and in the longing is the desire and in the desire is the fire deep in my belly, which moves like jelly, that has me wanting the little things that we create, like an impromptu date, making love real late, on a Tuesday, a jazz club when its blues day, whatever you say, it’ll make me feel OK. I love how we wake up on Saturdays and I make you Italian coffee, because that’s what you like, even though we both know you make it better. You wear that dark blue sweater. If we’re feeling bad we’ll eat buttered banana bread, unleash the contents of our head, help each other be fixed, listen to Annie Lennox. We walk, sometimes looking for good wine, wasting away our time, but it’s never wasted knowing you’re mine, sweating on the steep road by the beach and we climb, your hair gel turning to slime, it’s so sublime, knowing you’re all mine.

When it gets late, we loiter in our lounge because we have no friends, and the friends we love are oceans away or at home intending to stay, so we cook. We cook way too much, I insist on Italian because pasta reminds me of you, and I love you so much I want to be reminded of you when you’re next to me. You’re from Rome, “the city I call home”, but it makes you feel alone, and now it’s Auckland in your zone. You say you like the colours of Tamaki Makaurau, the way it rains in the bush, and the clouds part to a bluer sky, but it’s really just because the city’s mine. And what’s mine has become yours, from flat whites to Afghans, hokey pokey and a fridge full of dips, islands dotted with boats and ships. And yours is now part of me, clams in wine and Cagliari, driving too fast, passed a piazza, embracing food like it’s a holy chakra. And then I click, that it’s us. The life we’ve created, the love that has been legally stated. Me and my Mog, a name that’s fit for a dog, and I mean that as a compliment. Because you’re loyal, full of love, you wait for me by the door, but only because our house is small. You look at me like I’m your leader, your owner, and I give my dog my boner. We created this. And it’s perfetto.


Jake Howie is a Kiwi comedian who has performed at some of the world’s best clubs. Jake won the Reading Comedy Festival New Act of the Year competition in 2015 and placed as a finalist in the prestigious NATYS Awards, and went on to take his debut comedy hour Let Them Eat Jake to the Brighton Fringe, Edinburgh Fringe, Leicester Comedy Festival, Melbourne International Comedy Festival and a sell-out weekend run at The Classic in Auckland. Jake has been heard on BBC Radio 4 Xtra, Talk Radio and the popular Global Pillage podcast, as well as being seen on BBC One and TVNZ.