Love is a Many Splendored Thing

I love my crazy-ass husband. He's not the most romantic guy...nor the sweetest...nor the most sensitive...but he is about as perfect a mate as I can imagine. I can say anything to him, and know that he will understand me fully, no matter how crazy the b-s is I'm babbling.

Other people...do NOT understand our relationship. All my girlfriends can't figure out why I talk to him on the phone so much. I just don't have quite as much to discuss with anyone else. Sometimes we talk like we're gangsters. Sometimes we bitch to each other. Sometimes we just share the line in silence. We talk about vacations we want to take, furniture we want to buy, why Cliff should get in bed earlier, the price of gas, current affairs, movies, television, music, and...just everything. We are absolutely each other's best friend. And I know without a doubt that he would tell you the same.

Just about every other couple we know fights on a regular basis. Brad and I hardly ever argue. We have pondered this at great length, and have come to the conclusion that the reason for our domestic bliss is that we work out our aggression through talking a constant stream of the most ridiculous crap to each other. An example: We moved the computer and computer desk into the living room from the bedroom last week. The conversation during this monumental undertaking went something like this: (Parental Advisory: Adult Language Follows) (Horrified For My Child Advisory: Cliff was asleep)

Brad: "It won't fit in that corner. It's all over the French doors. It's crazy. We can't do it"

Betsy: "Shut your hole. I know you're lying. Move this shit."

I walk in the living room to see the bottom half of the desk situated perfectly in the corner.

Brad: "Bitch."

Betsy: "Dickhead. I knew you were full of it."

Brad: "Shut up, whore, I'll haul all this shit to the dumpster."

Betsy: "I know I'll be hauling something down to the dumpster tonight."

Brad: "Mean bitch."

Betsy: "I don't think I can carry your dead carcass, so I'll just roll you down the stairs and then kick-roll you across the parking lot and just leave your dead ass lying in front of the dumpsters."

Brad: "I can actually see you doing that."

Betsy: "You won't feel a thing."

Brad: "I never did."

Betsy: "Kiss my ass."

Brad: "Who are you?"

Betsy: "F**k you."

Brad: "You crazy bitch. F**k you."

Betsy "I love you."

Brad: "I love you, too, you silly whore."

We finished putting the desk together and were laughing our stupid asses off the whole time. This entertains the crap out of us. My brother-in-law has actually threatened to tape our conversations (cause we don't hold back when we have company), and make a cartoon of us with our semi-violent ramblings as a soundtrack. I think that would be funny. I think other people would be slack-jawed at the seemingly hateful things we say to each other. That's just how we roll. And it is the secret to our rarely-explosive marriage.

I hope you enjoyed that as much as we did.

P.S.  I'm at 932 views right now.  Thanks to all!  :))