Respect the Husband

Now, years later, I am lucky enough to be married to the love of my life, Bobby. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that he is a soul-searching dreamer (ha!), but he does like to discuss movies after we watch them. Among other positives. One interesting thing about Bobby is that I knew him for 11 years before we fell in love. We were all friends, all of us (and yes, I mean all of us). I remember two of my best girl friends, Kathryn and Theresa, throwing Bobby a surprise birthday party many, many years ago. I don’t remember much these days, but I do remember that party. I remember thinking, wow, they must really like this guy to go to all this trouble. I must admit, I was surprised. Bobby seemed a bit too stuck on himself to me back then, and once I was caught referring to him as “doom and gloom.” Of course, that makes me laugh now. I was just as stuck on myself as he was, and once we were married we got a good laugh out of the discovery that deep down I’m the pessimist and he’s the optimist.

Regardless of what I thought of him, though, my friends had thrown him a party—and a pretty thought out and labor intensive party, too. The message I got from this was clear: Bobby is to be respected. If I had ever been able to stay awake long enough during one of those eternal Godfather movies, I’m sure I’d be able to produce some sort of illuminating allegory from the guy perspective here, but I couldn’t, and so now I can’t. It will have to suffice to say that in the world of women, if multiple girls spend long hours doing thoughtful things for a guy that they have no romantic interest in, then that guy is forever deemed A GOOD GUY and is not to be messed with.

[Bobby didn’t take too kindly to that paragraph, saying I might as well just replace A GOOD GUY with A GAY GUY in that last sentence. I don’t know why guys are so afraid of being called a good guy. Or nice. Or cute. Or anything that doesn’t make them sound like Bruce Willis in a Die Hard movie. Yes, we women have on occasion been known to fall for the bad boys of the world, but what guys fail to notice is that the story seldom ends there. Your classic bad guy is only fantasy material in the first act. Proceed any further into the tale and we’re yearning for the bad guy that magically morphs into a good guy once it’s time to propose, have kids, or show up at our parents’ house for dinner. Basically, hard on the outside, soft on the inside. Kind of like a truffle!]

So as I was saying, I respected Bobby. Even when I thought he was being grumpy, or negative, or a bad influence, I was nice. (Except for one now famous day, when I told him he was being a bully. I just couldn’t take it anymore.) The point is, I treated him fairly and justly, as I would want to be treated, for 11 years. And then we got married.

(Do I even need to write this next paragraph? It’s too embarrassing. Isn’t it just implied from that last line that I then didn’t always treat him with respect, even though he is my most dear love? Oh well, no one is making me write this. Here I go.)

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