You can cut the tension with a knife.

I don't know where to look. My Canadian Girlfriend and I have never been in this situation before. I'm nervous. I'm scared to open my eyes, I'm scared to close them. This sort of situation is not something they prepare you for when you're growing up. I try to make eye contact with her. Her normally warm and comforting eyes don't glint at me. They are cold and empty. Her knees tucked up to her chest and she picks at the skin by her thumb nail, her "tell" that she is on edge. This is worse than when I took the last caramel chocolate shortbread. I look down at the floor.

It's spider season. We've had three so far. Neither of us dare move.

The first one appeared on Tuesday morning after I got out of the shower. I know it was a Tuesday because I didn't have any clean "Tuesday" socks. I sat down on the bed and turned the toe part of the sock inside out and bent down to slip it over my foot. And then something moved. I jumped up, screaming like a grown man who'd seen a spider. I landed cat like on my feet on the bed, forgetting that My Canadian Girlfriend was there. I lose balance due to the conical calf that I am trying to stand on.

My Canadian Girlfriend wakes up and screams like someone who has just been woken up by having their toyboy fall on them. "Spider!" I say. She gets up, strides to the bathroom, picks up toilet paper, wraps up the spider, throws it into the toilet, flushes and is back asleep in bed before my heart beat goes below 100.

Of course when i re-tell this part to friends and family, who still like to believe that we don't sleep together let alone spend 'school nights' together, i miss out the 'falling over her' bit

Later that week we sit watching the television. A spider scuttles behind the TV. Calmly, I say "A spider's just scuttled behind the TV". I have decided to try and not panic over spiders now. I do not want to show them any emotion. We stare at the cheap Argos TV stand, my face fixed and free of emotion like Jimmy Carr's.

The spider pops out and settles near my Canadian Girlfriend's slippers. 'Aren't you going to squash it?' I say. She seems reluctant.

I pick the slipper up and squash the arachnid. 'Do you want to get rid of it?' I say, lifting up the slipper and feeling impressed at my bravery.

'Put that back! I hate dead bugs and spiders they're gross. In fact, can you throw those slippers away'

'But it's dead and only on the sole of them. I can just give them a wash'

'They only cost £2. I can get another pair. I just can't think about wearing them again.'

So with that I scoop the dead spider up in a handful of tissues and deposit it in the toilet.

'I can't believe how brave you were with that spider' she says.

And so it came to pass that the third spider appeared. I run out of the room screaming 'There's a live spider in there!'. I hear a crunch followed by My Canadian Girlfriend running out saying 'There's a dead spider in there.' At which point I run in with the vacuum.

I suppose this is one way that we are good for each other. She likes the top half of the bagel, I like the bottom half. I hate spiders when they're alive - she hates them when they're dead. She says "to-may-toe" and I say "chicken and bacon with sweet chilli sauce".