I've never been very good at the marriage thing, kids. That is a given. I think it has to do with the scientific fact that my womb is actually an internal GPS system that zeroes in on the wrong men. Put me in a room packed wall to wall with one thousand men and I will immediately choose the most low-down, conniving, loser in the bunch, rush over to him, fling myself at his feet and beg him to marry me.
That is precisely why I have stopped entering rooms that have one thousand men in them.
Don't get me wrong. Mr. Man is not exactly the epitome of perfection. Believe me. He can be the most grumpy individual in the universe...next to me that is. He drives too fast, he takes me for granted on occasion and he snores like a drunken wildebeest. Makes me crazy. Or crazier, as the case may be.
But Mr. Man has something none of the rest of the men in my past have ever had and so I think I'll keep him.
He has Wessonality. No, wait a minute. That's Florence Henderson.
What Mr. Man has is the unfailing and unexplainable desire along with the remarkable ability to put up with me. How cool is that? He understands me in a way no other human being on the face of the earth ever has and that makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. Or maybe it's the tequila I put in my Grape Nuts. Either way, I'm totally warm and fuzzy right now.
This giant 6'2" man with beautiful blue eyes that he swears are green, is the true love of my life and the biggest, prickliest thorn in my side, all rolled up in one. He makes me laugh, makes me cry and sometimes when he hasn't had enough sleep and is doing his Saddam Hussein impression, he makes me want to gently place a pillow over his face until he gets very, very still.
I remember an episode of All in the Family years ago where Gloria told Edith that she had simply fallen out of love with Michael. (How is it possible I remember that when I can't remember my own wedding anniversary?) Edith in her wisdom told Gloria that all wives fall out of love with their husbands from time to time, but not to worry because eventually Michael would unknowingly do something simple that would remind her why she loved him in the first place. And of course he did and Gloria loved him terrible again.
For the past six months or so, I've thought of that very special episode of All in the Family and waited, not so patiently I might add, for Mr. Man to turn back on the switches his grumpiness had turned off.
Just like the Meathead, he did. There was nothing earth shattering, or mountain moving, but rather quiet little "I love you" things that helped me to remember who he was and who he is and who we are.
Like the fact that he tells me I'm beautiful when I don't have on any make-up and my hair is a mess.
Or that he has always been understanding that most of my friends are men and he trusts me completely to hang out with them, talk to them on the phone and hug them inappropriately.
Or that he couldn't care less if I have spent ten solid hours working on the computer and haven't cleaned or cooked or pretty much anything else.
He is the only human being that would think it's cute when he gets two voice mails in a row from me and the only thing he can hear is my hysterical laughter because I heard something on Saturday night TV that nearly made me pee my pants. ("Zelda's got no business trying to do magic, fat as she is." For some reason, I have decided that is without question the funniest line I've ever heard in my whole long-legged life and I plan on saying it often. Thus the title of this post.)
The best thing about Mr. Man though is that he thinks I look good naked, thank you God. I can eat Moon Pies from now till the cows come home and he still acts like a teenager when he gets a glimpse of me unclothed. As far as I'm concerned, that's the single best reason to love him and live with him forever and the very best reason to marry someone.
Some men might think you look good with your clothes on, your teeth brushed and your legs shaved...but only a husband who loves you will do the do with you when you're disgusting.
That should be on a greeting card.
Copyright © 2004-2005, Sherri Bailey
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