April 28, 2012

The Husband

I just finished my favorite snack; popcorn with parmesean cheese and garlic salt.
I was planning of writing this blog while snacking, but then realized I couldn't really type with cheesy buttery fingers.
Now that I'm done, we can commence about: The Husband.
The husband is a guy I will in future posts reference as "the husband."
His version of the story is much better, we usually argue about who is going to tell the story when we introduce each other. You'll have to do with my version.
A couple of years ago, I was asked to help a wedding tutorial for school. I called some friends for help as actors and crew to film this experience. In walked my guy friend and he was immediately assigned to portray the groom- and guess who was bride? Me!
So, we got married. It's filmed. The professor led the "ceremony." Ever since then, the whole group of us joke that is was secretly ligetimate because we said all the words that would be in an actual wedding.
Depending on his mood, the husband says, "But I really crossed my fingers."
But that's how he became the husband.

Now, throughout the past years- our relationship was an open one. lol. We would hang out and discuss who he was dating and who I was dating. I've always loved processing relationships with the husband. He's a good guy, but sometimes melodramatic. I'm sure he might actually say the same thing about me, or maybe just dramatic.

Here's a story about one night when I went out with the husband.
We arranged a date to celebrate a big meeting he had. I happen to be in the city and wanted to show him a particular swanky bar.
I remember specifically hating the outfit I was wearing. Not that I needed to impress him, it was the husband, after all. But I didn't particularly feel confident enough to go this bar I wanted to take him to. I even went to a store to see if I could find something just right. No luck. I ended up just changing the venue to a more casual place. Mind you- he showed up in a suit (from his meeting). I figured he wouldn't feel as uncomfortable, if we just went to a local pub.
We started at one place, were he actually was very vulnerable. It was a new place in our friendship. Then we moved to another venue- one I felt fairly comfortable in. Although, at this particular time the bar was kinda busy- and there wasn't much space.
I scoped out the seats at the bar, and noticed two seats between an older black male and the wall.  (which ironically this is another story that could have been in a previous post). The husband knows what kind of flavor I prefer, so he suggested I sit next to the stranger and he take the other seat. I obliged.

Back to relationship conversation. "What do you want that you're not getting?" I pronounce in his direction. He paused. I continued, "I mean you don't want a stupid broad, right?" The man next to me, smiled and laughed so that we could hear us. We asked for advice. Which was pretty awesome. George was his name. He told us that we should get all the action while we could get it, because when you get older beauty and organs don't cut it as much. After the more suggestive conversation ended, George gave some serious advice about finding someone to make you happy. It was nice, and he continued to share about his life. I remember he liked saxophone jazz artists. The husband has a great art for conversation.
Somehow, we both fell in love with George and pushed him with questions regarding right from wrong, good from evil, truth from lies. The husband eloquently and respectfully debated back. I was in the middle enjoying it thoroughly. We learned that George had lost his faith along the way. From my perspective, we ended the conversation with hope, kindness and love.

As we walked out, the husband was a little worried about his apologetics, but I assured him he was fine. I was proud of him. I encouraged him that this kind of conversation was a gift and that he should continue in it. I, on the other hand, process things slower, and debate is not a tool I have handy. I told him all I could do is encourage and pray. I did. I love the husband.

George had mentioned he went to this pub every week for happy hour, and especially when a particular bartender worked. I went back a week later, to have a follow up conversation. He wasn't there. Hopefully, I'll run into George again one day.


  1. Good story, dude. I liked that one.

  2. Good thoughts, my friend. I enjoyed this story.

  3. The husband approves


Did I do something wrong? Are they crazy or stupid? Your thoughts, please?