My husband doesn’t have moods…he has settings. He is the father of my child, author of the Task List and powered by a beautiful mind.
By beautiful mind, I’m not thinking about an individual, that has a clear and calm headspace. A person, who is in touch with their emotional and intellectual subject matter, in equal measure. By beautiful mind, I’m thinking about a detail oriented, mad scientist Somewhere between Doc Emmett Brown and Sheldon Cooper. An intelligent but annoying nutcase!
He has a big heart and a sunshine smile but he is a tricky beast to figure. He has mild OCD but calls it CDO. He feels better calling it that as it’s more alphabetically correct. How can you argue with that!
Everything needs to be based in fact, not whimsy. This very Android quality, does make him a large fun sponge on occasion. In his mind, his thinking is sound and thorough. To us mere mortals, his thought process, is where all fun goes to die.
In his brain, the following statements dwell:
- Sarcasm is the lowest form of love
- Swearing is disgusting and illustrates a lack of intelligence
- Listening to RnB music encourages promiscuity
- ‘Because I said so’ or ‘because I want to’ are not suitable justifications to do something
- If you are not for me, you’re against me
- If you cannot make a good case for it, you have no case for it.
Needless to say, arguments with this man are testing.
He feels passionately about the environment. He was recently distraught at our local councils recycling policy. This was entirely based on them, not allowing plastic drinks cartons to be recycled. He wanted to write to our local MP, to raise his concern. He uses an app, to report where the cheapest petrol can be purchased, at any one time. He monitors his mileage diligently, he drives at 60mph in a 70 zone, for fuel economy purposes. While in bed, he once spoke at length, about petrol consumption on motorways v towns. Sexy!
He operates a digital task list as mentioned previously. Reminding him to carry out exciting chores like, cut the grass, wash the cars and descale the kettle.
He loves a good spreadsheet. He has one for our budget and our meter readings, that he updates monthly and weekly respectively. He shares them with me in Google Drive. I would rather have a pot plant.
We parent very differently. I’m more emotional and go with my gut. He is more, ‘let’s stop and assess the situation’. Let’s gather a more accurate cross section of data then decide. Fuck no – who has the time for that!!
He loves Amazon. All the choices, products and reviews. I can see his brain drinking that data in, like I inhale wine. The level of research that goes into each purchase is insane. I equally have to carry out, the appropriate research, if I am to put an idea before him. Nike’s famous tagline ‘Just Do It!’ holds no weight in this house.
Sausage Gate! Yeah, it’s a thing. My South African meat eater, deplores of the British sausage. It’s not real meat and has no place at his table. I’m a British lass and I love a good Banger and Mash combo. In the winter, it was on my menu once a month. Now, on request, it’s twice a year. The hilarious bit about this debate, is that he will happily eat meatballs everyday. 100% real meat in those bad boys right!
Instant coffee isn’t real coffee! He despises most of the latest coffee makers. He prefers his decade-old filter coffee maker. My poor tea-drinking mum, bought an all singing all dancing coffee maker, to impress my husband. She even bought his choice of coffee, the Americano. Unimpressed, my husband now just asks for tea. The coffee maker, is now redundant and buried under boxes of unused coffee and milk sachets.
On the subject of sustenance, I have to mention the cutlery situation. My beloved, will only use a certain type of fork. If given an alternative by accident, he will have to change it or swap it immediately, before the meal gets underway.
In the land where my husband rules, there is no celebrities or popular culture. He is still very behind on our journey into classic films. He had a very sheltered upbringing so film quotes and song lyrics, are often a swing and a miss. He doesn’t get any references, which makes me want to weep. I have shown him the Star Wars trilogy, old and new. I can at least, go to my grave, knowing that I gave him that.
He loves trance music, as most tracks do not contain words. He can’t listen to the song and the words at the same time. He gets frustrated with overly chatty radio DJs. He much prefers to download an instrumental playlist, to avoid hearing a fellow human. I’m all about the vocal, the range, the words. Music is so important to me. Music and movies are my thing. They move me, lift my mood and provide a daily soundtrack to my life. We do watch the same TV programs, in part, because we only have one TV. The music is minimal in my house, I get my promiscuity on in the car!
On that topic, adult time is a tough one. We were watching a film, months ago, where a love scene was featured. He paused the movie to then ask, ‘if I liked watching people have sex?’. Not especially but in that moment, when Jason Statham was throwing it down, I was enjoying that!
I’m very sarcastic and I swear, I feel this has no bearing on my intellect. I listen to RnB music, nice and loud. I’m usually driving to Tesco, singing along to Chris Brown. Hardly living a life of debauchery…I’m probably getting milk.
When you get married, you pledge your life to someone you want to grow old with. Awww…The Wedding Singer…I love that movie. Did you catch that reference? That song! That scene, where Adam Sandler sang to Drew Barrymore, on the plane:
I wanna make you smile whenever you’re sad. Carry you around when your arthritis is bad. All I wanna do is grow old with you
I’ll get your medicine when your tummy aches. Build you a fire if the furnace breaks. Oh, it could be so nice, growing old with you
I’ll miss you. Kiss you. Give you my coat when you are cold.
Need you. Feed you. Even let you hold the remote control.
So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink. Put you to bed when you’ve had too much to drink. Oh, I could be the man who grows old with you.
I wanna grow old with you.
Yeah ok. We all know that I’m a sap, but you get the point. Those words. That meaning. Not a shagging spreadsheet in sight!
I already know, what my husband will be like as an old man. He is there already. Apparently you grow to resemble those you love. Guess I need to learn Excel and get cracking on those spreadsheets. I really can’t see my husband, dropping anything like it’s hot. Unless it’s a British sausage.