Game On, Pat

Last Friday night, the Husband graciously vacated our home so that I could co-host a bridal shower. He asked what time would be safe for him to return, and I suggested 10:00 p.m. After running several errands, the Husband found himself headed to Barnes and Noble to kill some time. Embracing his inner youth, he headed straight for the comic book section. He picked up a graphic novel (some Batman something ... and for those of you who think that a "graphic novel" sounds skanky, okay well it does sound rather risque, allow me to clarify. A graphic novel is apparently a longer comic book, or so the Husband tells me...).

Totally engrossed in the graphic novel, the Husband heard something but couldn't understand what was being said. He glanced up and noticed a person in the same aisle. We have been calling this person, Pat, as Pat apparently has the misfortune of its gender not being readily ascertained. So the Husband notices that Pat has returned the book that Pat was looking at and has selected another book slightly closer to the Husband and his graphic novel. Pat speaks again, Hey babe, you're so good looking; babe, you're so hot. The Husband, unsure of what course of action is required during an androgynous pick up in the comic book aisle of Barnes and Nobel at 10:00 p.m. on a Friday evening, continues reading the graphic novel. Not to be dissuaded, Pat selects another book slightly closer to the Husband and repeats itself: Hey babe, you're so good looking; babe, you're so hot. The Husband continues reading although admittedly losing all focus on the graphic novel. Pat selects another book even closer to the Husband and delivers the same message: Hey babe, you're so good looking; babe, you're so hot. At this point, Pat is rather close to the Husband, who opts to return the graphic novel to the shelf and move around the corner to the next aisle. However, knowing a good thing when it sees one, Pat follows the Husband around the corner, and continues with the flattery: Hey babe, you're so good looking; babe, you're so hot. At this point, Pat is coming dangerously close to encroaching on his personal space, so the Husband looks for a safe escape. He returns the book and flees the store, arriving home feeling slightly traumatized over the entire event.

Apparently, I've got competition. A comment or two, if you will...

I was 30 years old when the Husband entered my life. He was immediately a good friend and soon morphed into the Boyfriend, followed by a brief stint as the Fiance. On February 17, 2005, he became the Husband. As in, my Husband.






While I applaud Pat's recognition of his stunning good looks and fully appreciate that the Husband is, in fact, hot, I would like to put the Pat's of the world on notice of the fact that he is taken.


In the four years since our wedding, the friendship and love has deepened. We reach for our dreams together, laugh during the good times and work together through the other times (although there was that unfortunate incident in our first year of marriage when he closed the door so that he could sleep without my crying disturbing him but I've mostly forgiven him and we've moved on and he hasn't done it since, but I digress...).


I am, generally speaking, a giving person and was taught that I should share; however, allow me to draw the line somewhere. You see, there are somethings that I just don't share well.


Translation: Game on, Pat.