Heather over at Dooce did this meme. And she NEVER does memes. Only this is more of an usus (?).
Today I will talking about us - my husband and myself. Our day-to-day boring nonsense bullshit.
So get excited -
What are your middle names?
My given middle name - Irene. When we got married I dropped it and replace it with my maiden name because I hate Irene. An old family friend would screech "REEEEEEENYYYYYY" to piss me off as a child so clearly it had to go.
His middle name is Alan. His family tradition calls for the first boy and the first girl to have their parents names as middle names.
How long have you been together?
Married 2 yrs, together about 2 years. So total - 4 years. Math is fun!
How long did you know each other before you started dating?
Um. Pretty much immediately. I dazzled him at a dive bar, he messaged me the very next day.
Who asked whom out?
He asked me to fly to Vegas. Yeah VEGAS. That was our first date. He was totally into me.
How old are each of you?
I'm 30, he's OLD 36. I like to say stuff like... "I didn't even have my period when you graduated from high school" or "You know how to use the Dewey Decimal System"
Whose siblings do you see the most?
He's the oldest of 4. I'm the oldest of 2. His family is all local so clearly we see them most.
Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple?
Um. Like most DINKs - I would say work stress. My job fluctuates between insanely busy and insane. His used to be to steady but in these days and times, nothing is stable. But the hardest for me is his chronic disease, Chron's. It could be so much worse than it is - really. He struggles with it most when he's stressed - who isn't these days? I brace for huge fever spikes, intense pain and horrendous gas. All in all though, we keep our shit together really well.
Did you go to the same school?
No. He went to UNC - Chapel Hill. I went to University of Florida and then Florida International University.
Are you from the same home town?
Not even close. I grew up in South Florida. He grew up in upstate NY and then move to Pinehurst, NC as a teenager. Introducing him to Cuban food nearly killed him.
Who is smarter?
He is. Infinitely. Every time I hear about the financial situation on NPR I have him explain the mortgage crisis to me - AGAIN. He joined MENSA in college then dropped out because he thought paying dues to them was ridiculous. When he gets together with his childhood friend Patrick my head nearly explodes and I have to lie down due to the over-abundance of intelligence causing a total brain meltdown.
Who is the most sensitive?
Me. No question. I react to everything with my emotions.
He loves it.
Where do you eat out most as a couple?
Tasu/Shiki Sushi. We could eat it every single day only then we would be bankrupt. In second place, Los Tres our cheap Mexican place that feeds us both dinner AND lunch the next day. Throw in a few beers and our check is still under $30.
Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?
London.
Who has the craziest exes?
His. Judging from the reactions I get when I suggest girls' names for our future children and stories that I have heard, most of his exes are either gay, functionally insane, bulimic, sexually repressed or committed (read as not functional, just insane).
Who has the worst temper?
Ahem - I do. Although if you push him enough to lose it, he will. However, I fly off the proverbial handle more often and with furious intensity. Then I sulk.
I never said I was a grown-up.
Who does the cooking?
He works from home and I rarely get home before 8 - you make the call. But we both love to cook. If we have people coming, I take over the main dish unless it involves the grill (it freaks me out with all the fire leaping and sparks hissing). If it does require aforementioned hissing fire, I scour recipe sites to find delicious side dishes so compliments are heaped upon me. Clearly, I do everything for validation.
Who is the neat-freak?
We each have our thing:
him - the shoes by the front door make him crazy
me - the kitchen counters, floors, oven and sink.
We both collect crap and are beholden to clutter.
For everything else - we hire cleaners.
Who is more stubborn?
He is logical-linear-reasonable stubborn. I am fuck-you-I'm-always-right-because-I-said-so stubborn. Please imagine our first child and then try to pity us.
Who hogs the bed?
HIM. I wake up with a knee lodged in my kidney more often than not.
Who wakes up earlier?
He does. Obnoxiously so. Even on weekends. He occasionally talks me awake on Sunday mornings @ 830. Literally talking to me as if I am already awake. However, he wakes me with coffee every morning - weekday or not. I would remarry him just for that.
Where was your first date?
The Paris in Las Vegas - for 3 days. For our big date-night, we went to Del Monico's for dinner and gorged ourselves. Hot.
Who is more jealous?
Neither, really. He knows no one would put up with my array of shit (I know it too). He always points out when guys check me out and I love to tease him about the women at his classes who are constantly trying to set him up.
How long did it take to get serious?
We were always serious. There was never a time in our romantic relationship when we did not think we would spend the rest of our lives together. <---- This is Heather's answer. And mine is the same. Only she wrote it better. Why change a perfectly good statement?
Please note: I kept Heather's answers here because a) they cracked me up and b) they mirror our marriage with frightening accuracy. However, I did add some answers of my own.
Who eats more?
Me, no question. I'm usually finishing off the meal on his plate. However, he is the type of person who will stop by the gas station after an hour-long workout to pick up a bag of cherry Twizzlers and a Snickers bar and will have finished both before pulling into the driveway.
The aforementioned Crohn's makes me the eater in the house. However, look inside his car you will see an array of Necco Wafer wrappers, empty soda bottles and the general flotsam & jetsam that comes from gas station/convenience store/CVS fare. He uses his door pockets to keep trash.
Who does the laundry?
Someone cannot ever remember that he is not supposed to put my sports bras in the dryer, so someone is no longer allowed to do the laundry.
I began a new program: he folds and puts away, I wash. Problem: He only puts away his stuff because "he doesn't know where my stuff goes." As if there is a magical force field around my dresser that shuns him as he approaches with freshly laundered and folded clothing.
Who's better with the computer?
You should see the veins in Jon's head bulge against his skin when he looks over and sees that it's been three months since I ran a software update.
I always break it, slow it down, mess it up. It takes less than 45 secs for him to throw me out of the den so he can right my wrongs. I am in no way shamed by this.
Who drives when you are together?
Jon, but not because he's a better driver. I lived in Los Angeles for over four years and did enough driving for a lifetime, so I'd be happy if I never had to drive again. However, he's recently started to drive more slowly, a development we may have to work through in therapy. That session would go like this: I wouldn't have to nag so much if he didn't drive like such a dumbass.
He does. My husband is a notoriously awful passenger. Shouting at me when a car/pedestrian/cyclist is within 500 feet thereby startling me so that I swerve maniacally and incur some sort of driving lecture that always ends with - "Do you want me to drive?"
When he drives, there is no other driver that can equal his prowess. He curses at them in a flurry of fucks, bastards, assholes, and pieces of shit. I assure you our unborn spawn will be gracing the principle's office as soon as he/she can speak.
NO ONE DRIVES WELL. This makes me feel better about myself when it comes to my driving. I grew up in South Florida which essentially entitles me to do roughly 300 things while driving - with driving being the least important thing on the priority list. I've dropped most of those habits over the years but it does nothing to assuage the verbal lashing I get when I drive with him in the car.
