Thursday, August 21, 2008

Letter to My Man-Boy

Dearest Uberman,

You know I love you with all of my heart. And it is that love that allows me to overlook some things that might be an issue for a lot of women. But not me.

For example, your amazing ability to burp the equivalent of what I am assuming is the roar of lion, and then ask anyone in the room "Did you hear that?" Some women might find this offensive. Repulsive even. But not I. The love I carry within allows me to accept. And dare I say, even be amused.

And then there's that little habit of eating popsicles in bed at night while we are watching TV. There are women who might find this annoying. But not I. I know how you enjoy a nice frozen treat and that is why I continue to buy them for you. Hiding them on the top shelf of the freezer so the kids don't find them. Often traveling to various stores to find the specific brand and flavor you prefer. My love for you gives me the patience and energy to persevere in the popsicle search.

And I have no problem with your participation in year round fantasy league activities. Although I don't understand the point of playing pretend baseball, football and basketball and for the life of me can't fathom why it is so extremely serious when it is, after all, JUST PRETEND. But it brings you joy and that is all that matters. It is the love within my heart that urges me to open the doors of our home to eleven of your closest sweaty friends and provide them with homemade baked goods, chips and three choices of dip, sandwiches, and of course, beer. And this love allows me to look the other way when they spill on my carpet and make fun of the festive matching paper plates and napkins that I buy especially for the occasion. Whatever. Your happiness is my happiness.

There are some women who might have issues with their husbands staying up until all hours of the night playing simulated war games with a group of 13 year old boys in Atlanta on the XBOX 360. But the fact that you are young at heart is one of the things I love about you most.

Our love allows me to accept the fact that, although you are a 36 year old man (yes, you are, even though you continue to tell our children you are only 30, I know the truth), you are very in touch with your inner 13 year old boy. And that is fine. I am mature enough for the both of us.

However, and listen closely, your behavior yesterday evening was completely unacceptable and will not be tolerated. While I appreciate you manning up and killing the gigantic cricket on the wall near my side of the bed last night, I most certainly DO NOT appreciate you using MY SHOE as your murder weapon of choice. Especially when you did it as an act of immaturity. Just because you knew it would gross me out and you thought it was funny. Not. Funny. At. All.

My brand new, lavender and gold, rhinestone studded, Tinker Bell flip flops. Now tainted with yucky squished up cricket guts. Ew.

Next time, be a grown up. Use your own stupid shoe.

With Love, Affection and Admiration,
Your Adoring Wife of 14 Years


Becky said...

At least he killed it.

Nothing worse than a man who won't touch the spider because "he hates them too."

Not that I know anyone like that. Uh hem.

The Maid
PS - How did the interview go?

Caitlin said...

Um, the other day Zach and I walked out of the apt., and out the front door, past the row of cottage-style mailboxes (so-called) that serve our building. And by walk, I mean I froze three feet from our door gasping and pointing until Zach turned around from locking the door and came over. see the Larged Winged Creature resting on top of the mailboxes.

Gahhhhh! he IMMUNE to my plight? Why is he smiling? Does not....compute.
Why is he smiling mischeviously and telling me its dead? How does he know??

And OH MY GOD, he brought that disgusting thing HOME FROM WORK WHERE HE FOUND IT because he thought it would be FUNNY to put it somewhere in the house to freak me out. Then he re-thought and decided it would be better to leave it outside. NO KIDDING, Zach, you weirdo. Really? You transported a dead Cicada home all in the name of a practical joke? Sick! I don't even know you any more!

for a different kind of girl said...

You know what this warrants? You need to take that super husband of yours out and get him to buy you a new pair of shoes!

DevilsHeaven said...

HA! My man would make me do it myself with a kleenex so the guts wouldn't smear on the wall.

aschmoel said...

I think you just found the extra special ingredient for the fourth type of chip dip!


At least it was a cricket and NOT a scorpion which is what gets killed in my household...yikes.

Trisha said...

Hey April-

I just wanted you to know that I have read Jennifer Weiner (don't you just LOVE the name) and really enjoyed her books. She rocks!

Chris H said...

I was waiting to hear he had dropped it dead on top of you! Ewwwww to cricket guts though... I can't stand on a squishy bug without feeling like throwing up!

kristen s said...

Crickets are so sick, but at least he did kill it for you. Once, before me and my "man boy" were married, a cockroach came running out in his apartment. I am deathly afraid of those things, but I wasn't about to just let it go live its life peacefully in a place where I spent a lot of time, so I not so calmly told him to kill it. April, he STOOD ON A CHAIR and screamed, leaving me to do the dirty work. I'm pretty sure I used his shoe, and I'm still grossed out when I think of it. Now, when I remind him of that story, he claims that he was making a joke and he really wasn't scared, but I was there, and I know better. Little girly man...

Oh, and I feel your pain with the fantasy sports thing. In fact, he's going today to pick his "team" for football. I used to allow him to have the guys over to our house for this occasion. I baked treats for them and everything.... until one evening, two years ago, when I came home and found that some strange man had spackled (yes, you read this correctly) SPACKLED my downstairs toilet. I'm sorry, I understand that gastrointestinal ills can strike at the most inconvenient of times, but COME ON! Would it have been too much to ask for the mystery man to clean up after himself? This isn't the freaking Holiday Inn, and there is no paid maid service... I'm it. Sick, nasty freaks.

Come to think of it, that memory is even more disturbing than the cockroach one. All of the guys go to a sports bar for their pretend athletics now. I'm sure it comes as no surprise that they are forever banned from my home.

Rachel said...

mmkay, while reading this, I was thinking to myself "my husband has been secretly married to this other woman for 14 years now" because OMG they are the same man (my annoyingman and your uberman). He is probable the 34 year old desguised as the 13 yr. old in Atlanta playing wargames until ungodly hours on his 360. The funniest thing however is while I was reading this out loud to him, he was on his way into the freezer to get his hidden stash of popsicles..yes..weird.

Stacey said...

Holy crap! I thought that Scott was the only 30+ out there that will stay up till 3 am playing Gears of War on the 360. And get unreasonably angry when he gets shot and killed. Like suddenly-swear-out-loud-Turrets-Syndrome-mad. At children. Who are playing in their mommy's basements. In China.

Scott's screen name is Gringito. Have Uber look him up some time. I'm sure they'll get along splendidly.

Stacey said...

I just sent you a gigantic email about Twilight. There's no turning back now, my friend....