Who do you tell?

Married life is not that much different than being in a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship. Or is it?

A Typical day with the Married Scribes.

Every morning my husband and I get up before our kids at about 6am. I say about because he and I both love a damn snooze button. (Whomever made that portion of the alarm clock needs to be shot!) We get ourselves ready. Turn on our car and prepare for the 45 minute drive to work. Have some coffee, talk about our upcoming day and spend time talking about our day. At work he calls me several times a day. Just to say hi and share a quick laugh. Scribe is so good for that. He keeps me in stitches and it’s great that he likes my jokes. I personally think I’m hilarious. After work, we drive home together. This is so mega important. We work out a lot of kinks of our day; discuss what we need to do for the evening and shop together if need be. We come home, take turns cooking for the children and either spend time together or apart, unwinding and relaxing until bedtime.

Did I need to mention sex? Nope. You already know.

But the point that I’m making is that I have a partner in life. Someone who understands a hard day, feelings of a triumphant day, excited, or tired and sometimes just happy to be alive days. I’m sad but extremely glad to say that I know that I got it right this time. We look at each other and compliment the outfit the other has chosen. My husband is so fine. We counsel each other, uplift each other and teach one another everyday.

Although I spend some of my nights, wondering in my dreams, about the chill on my face, then realizing that my face is smushed into the wall. I remember then, that my husband, unconscious in his need to be closer to me, has wrapped me a cocoon of arms and legs to keep me safe. I trip over his shoes constantly. I swear softly to myself and pick up the offending pair, knowing that he was probably tired. I’m sure that my heels have also, on occasion, made him trip and swear too. Sometimes I watch him. He knows it. I catch him watching me too. How sometimes, I just dance for no reason at all, if only just to feel the groove in my back. In this big, carpeted house, we seem to surprise each other often.

Ok, so what we really do is sneak up on each other.

Scribe surprises me in more ways than just in the house. For example, this morning we stopped to get gas. After I entered the convenience store, apparently a man whom Scribe considered “A Special Ed Looking Nukka” as he put it, came inside behind me. I didn’t notice him, however, Scribe appears at the window looking at me. As I stand there wondering what he needs, Scribe comes inside, asks me to repeat what I said, to which I replied “Nothing”. He pats me on the behind and walks out of the store. In animalistic terms, I was “Sprayed” or “Marked” in public. At 7:15 am! I laughed and said, “Early in the morning huh?” To which he replied, “I’m always on the case”. To some, this may seem possessive or even obsessive, but imagine if it was at the other end of the spectrum. And he just didn’t care, or was complacent. Now that we are married so he shouldn’t feel threatened in any way, but he doesn’t see it that way. He treats me the same way he did when we were in a “relationship”.

I described all of these personal things for a reason. Recently, he was telling me the type of night he had planned for me and remarked that I would probably tell my friends. The weird part is that I don’t share most of my life with him. I write portions of it on the blog, I may share a funny tidbit, but most of it is just for me. He’s right to some degree. As he said, if he were some negro off the street or a nucca from the club, I would probably be rushing to grab a phone to say “Girl, we did this and he did that and I felt like this!”

But this is my husband.

How many times can I coo about how much he loves me? How many times can I say that I’m grateful to God, with tears running down my face from the complete joy I feel in being a relationship so divine and so exclusive, that it had to be tailor made by Him for me? How many times can I wax poetic about the type of father he is and how because of him, my little family has a level of security that comes with having him in our presence everyday? I don’t have to share a man and my daughters have the comfort of having a concerned father in their lives everyday and not just “when it’s my turn”.

No. They don’t want to hear all of that.

So I’ll just continue to write it all down.

And put it here.

If they want to read it, they can. Or they can wait for me to write about another subject that interests them more.

And that’s ok with me. Because as Whitney Houston said: “My Love is Your Love”. If what I have written over these past 18 months gives you hope? Then I’ve made my point. If what I have written gives you tips? Then that takes it up another level.

But if what I have written about meeting, living with, then marrying the love of my life makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside for even just an instance?

Then you really know how I feel everyday of my life with this special man.

And I didn’t even have to say it in person.