You Know Your Husband Loves You When...

I've discovered in the last two and a half years that Josh and I have an odd relationship. Some would say that it is warped, I say that it's real. Maybe relationships aren't supposed to be like the relationships I have with my family members, but the way we interact with each other is the only way I can stay sane.

Case in point: Josh and I are sitting in front of the TV watching the news, like we do every night. From five o'clock to seven, like little sheep herded by our Shepard we sit every day just like thousands of other people getting our daily feed of depressing stories. The depressing stories seem to drone on like that awful teacher that you had in high school with that damn (pardon my language) monotone voice that made your cringe in agony. The voice that made you think about unlatching the windows and jumping off the roof of the school, only to break your legs, and not end your suffering as you had so hoped. We hear stories about our plummeting economy, Auto Industry Bailouts nixed for the time being,the rule breaking golfer that confessed, starving people all over the world and The Crapple Cup as Eric Johnson calls it.

And so brings us to our story: It is a known fact throughout my family, and many of my friends that I absolutely hate football. Josh asked me once why I hate football so much. "Is it because you don't understand it?" he asked. "No. I just don't like it." "Then what?" I told him that I hated that we spend 5 hours watching a game that only should add up to an hour. I also hate the fact that we cheer over two guys smashing heads and scream at that guy down there who clotheslined that other guy not only because he didn't want him to make a touchdown, but because deep down he is a bastard. And the thing I hate the most about football, (aside from the much overweight men in shiny tight pants, and the highly inflated egos) the victory dances after a touchdown. Yes, maybe you did make a great play, but you couldn't have done it by yourself. Some guy last weekend tore his ACL while doing a victory dance. Was there a twinge of sadness in me when that happened? No, but there was that twinge of satisfaction and that feeling of "serves you right for being so arrogant."

So why wouldn't I make fun of Josh when he has been making a huge deal about the Crapple, I mean Apple Cup coming this weekend? Sometimes I swear that he is the only person who cares about which awful team will win. Because in his words, "What's awesome is... Someone has to win." Like with most games, there is always a winner. People rarely tie 0-0, well there were those years back in t-ball when we ran around picking daisies in the field, but that's another story. We have even rescheduled our anniversary dinner from Saturday to Monday (I know our anniversary is Monday, but Josh planned dinner for Satuday, and I thought we could spend the day doing something nice together). No, instead we are trekking it up to Monte so Josh can watch it on the big TV at his parents house and I am venturing off with my mom to spend money I don't have at the Christmas Bazaar in Elma.

Apparently Josh felt the need to give me a little jab, which he usually does after I make fun of something he so covets. How dare I make fun of his scared sport of choice. Something so many men hold so dear that we reschedule anniversary dinners, skip church, and find ourselves attached to a chair, surrounded by cheap beer and chips only getting up to pee and gather more crap to eat.

The insult that ensues I felt was funny enough to make me cry, probably not funny to you, but is a small look into the relationship that I have with my dear husband. He proceeds to take my insult with stride and the statement that he wishes I would suffocate. Would he help me while I was dying one the worst deaths ever imaginable? No, he claimed. But he said that while I suffocated he would make it known that he, in fact could breath, all the while taking in gasps of sweet oxygen while I slipped into a breathless hell. No, he didn't say it in so many words, and yes it was an insult but I felt loved right then. Loved enough for him to think up such an awful thing to say... Yes, folks, this is the world that I live in. Jabs and insults abound, but I know that when my husband looks at me he truly loves me, and that is more than I could ever hope for.

Have a wonderful day!

Alyssa