A few days ago, Mel and I celebrated our wedding anniversary. 13 years together. That’s 156 months. Or 4,745 days. However you look at it, that’s a long time! Not long enough to learn how to totally ignore each other’s “quirks” (like always forgetting to flush or licking icing off OTHER PEOPLE’s plates); but long enough to know our individual “weirdness” is balanced out by more important things.
Years after that fateful Saturday I took Mel’s last name, I realize that being with a man like him for so long has changed me for the good. And the not so good:
1. I can belch audibly now — something I didn’t know how to do until Mel taught me how.
2. I’m hopelessly obsessed with getting rid of body hair — freakishly so. He pushed me into it.
3. I can name all the basketball playing positions now. And after wondering for most of my childhood, I finally know what “travelling” is.
4. I have no drive to wash the car, check the oil or take my vehicle to the mechanic. I don’t sweat over mechanical hiccups — especially since my husband is only a call away when a flat needs changing or when the car battery needs resuscitation. I figure I shouldn’t deprive him of the joy of “saving” me.
5. I can now hold my breath for roughly two minutes. That’s how long it takes for the stink of Mel’s flatulence to dissipate in a well-ventilated room.
No doubt about it — my husband has been an important force in my life. His unwavering support helped me through hard decisions I had to make with my career, my health and my hair-dos. His prudence with money balances out my genetically-dictated tendencies to take out my tension/anger/frustration/menstrual cramp on my credit card. His love is constantly and flagrantly showered on our three children who we pray will grow up with his patience and my passion, his discipline and my drive, his body fat ratio and my intelligence quotient.
M&M — the adventure continues.