Things I don’t understand after being married for a year

This is a guest post, from the frequent victim husband of the blog’s owner.

Stacy is generally a wonderful human being, but she can also be a little strange, which you may have guessed from previous posts detailing her totalitarian sandwich ordering or how excited she gets about having an old loyalty card work. There were a great many things I adjusted to during the first two years of our relationship, but now that we’ve been married for a year, there are certain things I’ve resigned myself to never really understanding.

  1. The appeal of ‘informative murder porn’, which she’s watching next to me on the couch as I type this. If I turn on the TV upstairs, there’s at least a 99% chance it’s currently tuned to Investigation Discovery, Oxygen or, occasionally TLC. I can get behind a good detective story, and even something like Netflix’ Making a Murderer, but these shows… The interviews aren’t good, but the acting is worse, and seriously, how many different puns can you make about murder?
  2. She’ll occasionally make up colors, which she’s mentioned before. That said, these colors are defined as whatever Stacy’s thinking of at the moment, and they’ll be presented as the authoritative name for a given shade. Melon & Coral may or may not be different things depending on…who knows.
  3. Walking. Everywhere. Some people enjoy walking, but given complications, like distance or weather, it will typically occur to people that there are other methods of transportation. Not my wife. In freezing rain in January, Stacy will bundle up in 26 layers and mentally prepare to walk several miles instead of thinking “Maybe septa won’t be that awful today”. This obviously also applies to the hills of Seattle.
  4. Delayed intoxication. We’ll occasionally be out drinking with friends, and we’ll have a few drinks. Stacy has always kept her composure while out in public, but sometimes, half an hour after we’ve arrived back home and I’ve sobered up, she’ll start bouncing around the house yelling “Wheeeeeeee!” and generally terrifying our poor greyhound.

There are, of course, many more. I could write entire posts on her musical taste (featuring both the Divine Comedy and Hillary Duff, sometimes in a single sitting), but I have to keep some things tucked away to use in revenge for future posts detailing how she’s messed with me that time.