Monday, March 3, 2014

My Much Younger Man

I married a much younger man, or at least that's the story you'll hear if you ask Husband.

"Yup," he tells everyone, "she's two years older than I am."

When I protest that the gap is actually less than 16 months, he uses numbers to confuse me.

"What year did you graduate from high school? What year did I graduate from high school? Aren't those two years apart? And what year did you graduate from college? What year did I graduate from college? Aren't those THREE years apart? So actually I'm giving you the benefit of the math."

"But...but...but I started first grade when I was five! And I graduated from college in  3 1/2 years!" 

I sputter and count on my fingers the gap between November and March, then add a year for the actual year I know I am older, and carry the one, and numbers numbers numbers, and then I give up. I'm even more confused during December, January, and February, when the gap in our ages is two years rather than one.

So what if I'm older? Age is only a number, and even though Husband's number is smaller by an unknown amount than my number, I do not have his encyclopedic knowledge of old movies, with the parallel talent of being able to quote entire pages of script from Sons of Katie Elder and The Great Escape. I am, however, much more savvy about social media. Which of us knows that # is pronounced "hashtag" and not "number sign"? That would be me.

What I have had over the years, because I'm older, is the opportunity to train up Husband into the way he should go. I've helped him relax his standards on orderliness. (Just one example: Before we were married he kept track of every single expenditure over $1, even if he spent cash for it. By the time he had finished merging our checkbooks, he was just grateful when I recorded the majority of my checks, and that silly cash stuff? Not a big deal. You're welcome.)

Because I am older I have spoken with authority about dirty car mats, and their lack of indication of sloth. ("They're floor mats! They're made to be dirty!") I've also been able to turn him away from his pre-marriage habit of storing books in the kitchen cupboards.

And in spite of my elderly status, he has been a most excellent Husband--the picture on today's post was taken as we waited for the Boys' flights to arrive before the Wedding of the Century. It was late at night and we were exhausted and the the international airport was deserted, so of course we got the giggles, and of course I took a selfie.

Our ages aren't important. What is important is that we've shared 30 years, four sons, and two lives, and those are the numbers that count.

But today, Husband, you are WITHIN ONE of my age! Mwahahahaha!

1 comment:

  1. Number sign? I tell Paul it's a sharp sign. He has no idea.