After more than 14 years of marriage, it's pretty much a foregone conclusion that my Tool Man and I know each other well. When I ask him what he'd like for dinner, I know before he even responds that his answer will be either "I don't know," or "Well, what I want, we don't have, so (wait for it...) I don't know."
See? I imagine that you and your spouse or significant other have also developed a sort of easy connection that helps keep your bond strong. Also, does it creep you out at all that I imagine you and your spouse or significant other? Even in the slightest? You, by the way, are very cute when you settle in on the couch after a hard day. Yes, you. Who else do you think I'm talking to?
Anyway, when my Tool Man calls home from the mysterious allure of The Road (not to be confused by the fantastic Cormac McCarthy book of the same title), I know the first thing he's going to say when I pick up the phone is "Hey," and that will be followed with him running down his schedule, followed by how tired he is, then some random gadget related gobbledegook, then his goodnights. He's quite the romantic. More than I can handle some nights. Like the night he carried on like that for longer than usual and I sat here, miles away, making the universal action for talking by flapping my thumb and fingers together in rapid succession, also known as The Quaking Duck sign.
I, too, am quite the romantic. Back off, friends. I'm taken. Except you. Yes, you again. You come here...
Here's another portrait of our marriage to charm you. Let me set the scene. More than a year ago, I brought home a book about a glowing teenage vampire and the angsty girl who yearned for him. There'd been some rumblings around the bookstore where I work selling children's and young adult (ahem) literature (cough) about this particular title, and people - strike that - WOMEN - of all ages were lapping it up. I figured what the heck. Maybe it was time I checked it out since, again, it's my job to promote quality literature (again...ahem). Perhaps you've heard of it? It's called Twilight. Ring any bells?
Every night, I'd crawl into my cozy bed with Twilight and Tool Man, flipping pages with my free hand after having taken his left hand in my right, because, as longtime married folk who know each other so well, that's what we do. Then I'd read. And I'd sigh. And I'd mutter things like (here's where I'm going to curse for just a bit, so brace yourselves!) "Oh, for fuck's sake," or "You have got to be shitting me," depending on the action (or lack thereof) going on between the pages. Then I'd laugh. Something quite disdainful or perhaps sinister-sounding. Essentially, what I was doing was dying a little bit inside as I worked my way through this particular book while at the same time keeping my Tool Man awake. Tool Man isn't a curser, and he found my random use of the f-word both off-putting and, well, confusing.
"Why don't you just stop reading it?" he'd ask when I'd drop the book, smack him on the shoulder with my free hand, and tell him he had to listen as I read him passages while my voiced dripped with contempt and disdain (seriously, people, typing that last sentence made me think I was channeling Twilight author Stephenie Meyer while sat at her kitchen table in Utah and pounded these books out!)
"I tried to make my smile alluring, wondering if I was laying it on too thick. He smiled back, though, looking allured," I'd read, trying to sound like an angsty teenage girl for Tool Man.
"That's pretty dumb," Tool Man would say. (side note - I'd have swapped the use of pretty for the f-word in that remark, but I can only quote Tool Man, not speak for him)
"I know, right? But wait! There's more!" I'd answer, then change my voice to what I thought an old vampire man walking around as a teenage stalker would sound like.
"Bring on the shackles — I’m your prisoner," I'd growl.
"Not sexy," Tool Man would sigh. Then he'd beg me, again, to put the book away for good, preferably not by throwing it across the room like I perhaps several times mentioned I was inclined to do. Sadly, I didn't take either of our suggestions, and I finished Twilight. I then vowed to Tool Man and the entire world that I'd not read any more books in this collection. Seriously, between the posts written here and the comments shared here and elsewhere, if you don't know my opinion of the Twilight series, you must be a brand new reader, and if so, I welcome you. If you like the Twilight books, I still welcome you. I just do so while making the kind of disapproving face my Mom made at me when she'd see me eyeballing another slice of pizza when I was a kid.
This is the truly amazing thing about the relationship Tool Man and I share. While I adore books and he rarely actually uses words that start with the letter B, let alone read books, we know each other so well that we can read each other like open books. So imagine my surprise when he came home from The Road (also not to be confused with what is apparently going to be a never released movie of the same name based on Cormac McCarthy's book) late Wednesday afternoon, dropped his duffel bags on the counter, neglected to even give me so much as a cursory peck on the cheek as a hello, and told me he was going to go watch this:
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I ask you - WTF?!?!?!! I mean, it's like all of a sudden, my Tool Man has no idea who he's married to anymore!!! The use of multiple question and exclamation marks clearly indicate my dread!!!!
"I stopped at Kum & Go (sidebar - heh....) to get a pop, and they had a Redbox, so I figured I'd rent it and watch it on my laptop," Tool Man said.
DID YOU HEAR THAT!??!?!? He was going to watch this...this...movie (pooh, pooh) on his laptop. In his hotel room. Alone. While on The Road. Should I be worried? I mean, listen, when I hear people talking about these books or this movie, most of those people ARE NOT DUDES!!! Dudes who dig The Laydeez do not dig Twilight or Twilight-related minutiae, and if they say they do, it's only because they're trying to get with The Laydeez, and, lest I'm mistaken, my Tool Man doesn't need to put on Twilight airs to get with me, a well-documented All Things Twilight hating laydee.
Sigh...Friends, since he couldn't watch his beloved Twilight on his laptop in his hotel room alone while on The Road, he watched it on our DVD player. Alone. While in our living room. Oh, sure, I tried to watch it with him. I tried. I really, really tried. I got about 15 minutes in, right up to the point where Edward storms out of the biology class he shares with the apparently alluring (and very wooden) Bella and, when failing in his attempts to switch classes so as not to be tempted by her, hisses, "Fine. I guess I'll just have to...ENDURE IT!"
Oh, no. No. No. No. I couldn't endure it. Not one minute more. If you'll allow me to roll over in bed and slap you on the shoulder to recall another of Edward's quotes from Twilight for you, "You are a terrible actress — I’d say that career path is out for you." This is only my opinion, but this movie sucks. Sucks like lame ass vegetarian vampires ("What do you mean? Vegetarian vampires? Are deer made out of tofu?" Tool Man once said when I cried lame while reading the book). The only good thing about it? Well, again, this is only my opinion, but the only good thing about it was when the end credits started and, from the other living room, I could hear Radiohead's 15 Step kick in on the soundtrack (to which I sigh and ask, "Really, Thom Yorke? Really?").
When it was over, I was tempted to ask Tool Man if he still had a penis, but then I remembered in the book, Edward saved Bella from turning into a vampire herself after an apparently lethal non-vegetarian eating vampire bit her (surely that wasn't a spoiler for anyone at this point...) by sucking the venom from her blood just up to the point where he himself could turn her, and, to be honest, I just didn't have it in me after this type of relationship betrayal to allow Tool Man to drop the double entendre on me by asking if there was anything special that may or may not involve sucking that I could do to save him from becoming one of The Laydeez.
This day has really given me pause to think about our relationship. I mean, after all this time together, a small part of me feels like it died. I mean completely died. Not in that, "Oh, haha, I'm 17, but really, I'm more than 90 years old. Being immortal is FUN!" kind of way, either. Additionally, I've been planning my revenge. Oh, mark my words like fangs to your throat. There will be revenge. I'm thinking a little of this just might do the trick:
Robert Pattinson who? Zac Efron FTW! (btw, yes, that photo is one of Zac and I together, and I know what you're probably thinking. You're probably thinking things like "Wow! Talk about lucky!" and of "You're really holding up for a woman who lusts after celebrities who are barely darkening the door of legal age!" and I say thank you. I am feeling quite lucky, and that other thing about looking so good? Well, I take that, again, back to my Mom and the way she'd shoot me that disapproving look when I'd go for that second slice of pizza when I was a girl. Who knew it was going to help me like that, huh?! Let's hope Zac's willing to take care of me after I potentially divorce my Tool Man for this discretion in our once very happy marriage...).
Labels: i ain't no glamour boy (i'm fierce)