I Married the Most Amazing Woman in the World

Whatever. Here it is. Dylan's guest post for "I Get A Day Off From Writing and Feeling Pressure to be Funny and Get to Laugh at Your Stories and Share Some Blog Love Monday".

Like I have said before, don't believe everything you read online. Please.

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I always wanted to get married.  I just never knew what I was in for.

I have two great role models that made me always want to take the plunge. Thanks Mom and Dad for your example of marriage for over four decades.  Over the years I had one or two girlfriends, but for various reasons it didn’t work out.  When I met Jessica I knew she was the one.  We met in a bar. Not like ‘bumped into each other at a nightclub doing the Harlem Shake met at a bar’. We were both working at the neighbourhood pub.

Truth is, I was bartending and supervising so technically I was her boss. Point for me.

She was a feisty and sarcastic brunette. Perfect!! Unlike the other waitresses who had to face an initiation of bartender ‘assholeness’ upon hire to test their breaking point for tears, Jessica dished it right back. And then some. She scared me a little bit

I charmed her with my handsome green eyes and witty personality. She didn’t stand a chance with my boyish good looks. Stop laughing. I had hair then.

When we started dating I discovered a few things about dear Jessica:

• She kept two large piles of laundry on her bedroom floor. One pile heading to the wash, the other having made it back from the wash, never to be put away. Her room was a giant clothing obstacle course.
• Her car was filthy.  Her passenger seat and floor had nothing but garbage, as once she was done with something she just tossed it into the abyss.  Seriously, when riding as a passenger in her car, your knees were up to your chest as you balanced your feet on the mountain of trash and adjusted a Big Mac container from your ass.

So when I knocked her up asked her to marry me, I knew pretty much what I was in for. Or so I thought.  We lived the same way and had so much in common. There was nothing but a whole lotta ‘wins’ in my future. 

Wins: I get to be married. I get to be married to a woman who is laid back and relaxed (messy) just like me. I get to live with a woman and she might get naked at any given time.

Well folks, when they say marriage changes you, it was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Freaking Hyde.

Here I was moving in with Jessica and things started to look different.  We enjoyed buying a lot of new things to set up our new house and life together.  Then came ‘the rules’ as we entered into our fist year of marital bliss.

Rules you ask?

Do not light the candles. They are decorative only.

Do not use the hand towels in the bathroom. They are decorative only.

Do not use the pillows on the bed or the couch. They are decorative only.

Do not leave the toaster on the counter. The counter is for decorative pieces only.

Ummm. Excuse me?  Decorative? I was confused to say the least. I come from a family of three boys, what the hell is a decorative anything? Where are the dirty laundry piles and messy car you fooled me with you crafty woman?

Let me get this straight. I can’t light a candle in case of emergency, dry my wet hands or face, rest my weary head or make a piece of toast at my convenience?

One can’t help but think Jessica was robbing these objects from their sole purpose of existence?

Poor unused wick wishing for a small spark. Poor towels longing for a drop of moisture to absorb. Poor toaster hiding in shame under the counter. Poor down-filled pillow yearning for a head to cradle into a shared sweet dreamland.

I had married a decorative monster. A monster that actually spent time dusting these unusable items like a crazy person. All while I could only sit back and stare helplessly, with the fear of God I would be punished to the full extent of the ornamental law, dare I think about matches or wet hands.

As time passed I got use to the fact that my dear Jessica had a very type A personality and was very competitive. Turns out I am her polar opposite. Because of her personality I find it easy to enjoy the little things that drive her nuts or will push her into a state of competition. 

My favorite thing is to walk into the house and take off my socks. And leave them strategically placed. Never in the middle of the floor, but always just within sight and slightly inconvenient for a Type A.  Jessica will pick them up and grumble every time and then get very angry.  I am winning the sock game because after 14 years of marriage I am still leaving them around and she is still picking them up. My ‘wins’ used to include a chance of nakedness…now it’s about dirty socks.

I feel so alive.

We used to play ‘Gin rummy’ cards together and while the basic idea of the game is to lay down cards in groups and your opponent plays off the cards for points, I always kept the cards in my hand and then placed them down in one swift move for the win.  This was never about beating Jessica, but more to annoy her.

I know she has told you all about my infamous arm flapping. What you don’t know about is Jessica’s ‘Angry Chicken’. When she gets worked up and talks with her hands; she magically transforms into an angry pecking chicken, squawking about and picking up imaginary bird feed with her hands.

Needless to say we don’t play cards anymore, the Angry Chicken isn’t a very good sport.

Wanna know something super fun to try just to see Jessica squirm? Simply turn one row of the blinds over so it doesn’t match the direction of the rest. Then sit back and time her to see how long it takes her to notice and how long she can try not to fix it.

Same idea for moving a 'decorative' candle out of place.

Her current response record is 1.4 seconds.  Her current 'try not to let it bother me before I go fix it'  time is 2.7 seconds.

But I must warn you; the Angry Chicken is guaranteed to make an appearance during this game. It is not for the faint of heart.

There are times though, that the competition is what makes our relationship stronger. And fun. One example is our rhyming game. Not like hip hop or rap rhyming, that would be cheesy. And we are not that cool anymore. But anytime, anywhere, a simple word at the end of a sentence turns into a race for the gauntlet for who can come up with the next rhyme.  And have it make sense. With no repeats.

Me: Thank you dear.

Jess: Come over here.

Me: Do you want a beer?

Jess: Why are you so near?

Me: To bring you cheer. 

The game ends when the losing opponent cannot come up with word in a timely manner. It’s usually Jessica. Her attempts throughout the day to try and gain back the win via text are cute.

Jess: Now I have a tear.

Me: Stop trying, you are not in the clear.

Jess: Screw you.

Me: Ok! When?

Everyday goes by and I thank my lucky stars that I found Jessica. Although the competitive side in her will say she found me. Either way, our marriage is a giant win.

We counter balance each other very well. If you ever meet us you can tell. So to this I say farewell, from the first and last blog from Dylan Stilwell.

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She is an amazing wife, mother and my best friend. Her outer beauty is only surpassed by the inner.  I should buy her diamonds in little blue boxes every day.

(Ok, maybe I wrote that part…and maybe the blog title too)

And by the way Dylan, you used ‘well’ in three out of your four rhymes.

Not so swell.

You lose.

xo J

PS…Next time I pick up your dirty socks, you will not be laughing at your little 'game' when I shove them up your ass.

I win. Cluck. Cluck.