Mike doesn't read much. Yes, he reads Popular Science and the TiVo listings and there was that poker book he devoured a few years back, but he's definitely not a reader. And a writer? Well, I got a card from him for our first anniversary, our second Valentine's and I think my birthday in 2006. Maybe. Could have been an e-card.
Mike isn't nearly as social as I am. I have our social calender booked for the next month and a half (and that's really nothing new) and he grumbles and complains and stomps around the house every time I announce a new social obligation. This conversation is heard weekly by our dog:
Mike: SERIOUSLY BABY, CAN WE JUST STAY HOME AND WATCH MYTHBUSTERS FOR ONCE IN OUR LIVES!
Jennie: No, love, we can't. Now go put on a shirt. And maybe some pants, too. And, don't kick the wall again. Thanks, baby.
Mike is also responsible (no, really). He doesn't spend money the way I do (with reckless and total abandon), and he budgets and he crunches numbers and he pays bills and he would rather go to Wal-Mart than Target because of the measly pennies we'll save.
He's stubborn on levels I've never experienced and I grew up with a family that won the Most Stubborn Family in the West Award ten years in a row (trophies and all). When Mike makes up his mind he MAKES UP HIS MIND and changing his made-up mind is something you only approach with 1) lots of porn 2) lots of Budweiser and 3) possibly a new motorcycle. Even then, he may cross his arms and shake his head and refuse to budge because my husband may be celebrating his 30th birthday in less than two months but BY GOD he will not grow up unless he is growing up ON HIS OWN TERMS.
Mike reads this blog because Mike knows this blog means a great deal to me. He leaves me alone as I type and type and re-type and then delete and delete and delete some more. He'll come into the computer room to bring me a Diet Dr. Pepper or just to make sure I haven't died and then he'll quietly sneak back out because, as he says, "I need to focus on being funny." Mike knows my favorite bloggers' children's names and he comes rushing (okay, I define Mike rushing by eventually getting around to doing something) in the room when I tell him about a new picture that's been posted on flickr by a COMPLETE STRANGER who I'm a big nerdy fan of. Then he'll open Photoshop in a sweet attempt to show me how our pictures can also look that good. He manages to look only slightly defeated when I say to him, mid-tutorial, "Can we get some ice cream? I'm bored."
Mike has never asked me not to do something because he doesn't want to do it. If he chooses to sit out this-or-that social gathering, he always tells me to go. He'll hug me before I leave and say (without fail) "Be careful. Have fun. Love you." And he hugs me even tighter when I get home. Mike encourages my social life and supports my social life, even if he has never been able to keep up with it.
When I asked Mike if I could sign up for a writing class to hone my skills, he immediately said, "Of course, baby." When I told him I was planning to go to BlogHer '08 (wherever it may be), and that the trip would include the purchase of a plane ticket, a hotel room, a new wardrobe, he said, "Sounds great, baby. You'll need to look cool when you meet all your blog crushes." When I told him we're paying a monthly fee for my blog and my domain name he said, "Makes sense." And when I told him about the shrink I wanted to see, he said, "I think that's a good idea."
Mike knows I post about him and even though he sometimes reminds me of all the funny things I should be sharing with the Internet instead of things like this, he never asks me to stop. He never stomps around the house or stands his ground or puts his foot down when it comes to this. (It helps that I tell him just how many views my site actually gets, and that half of those are by my mom. He's OK with my mom knowing he has horrible taste in television because my mom thinks he's adorable regardless.)
There are many things I'll never blog about. No matter what. Out of respect for certain people and certain experiences and because some places you just don't go, even if you are relatively void of shame like I am. But no matter what I write/do/say, I know Mike will support me.
One of my greatest joys is having a husband who may not always share the same pulls of the heart as I, but one who will always encourage me to go after mine.
And when I close my browser tonight, I know he'll be there, waiting in the other room to kiss my forehead and say, "Want to rub my shoulders now? We can watch Oprah or old episodes of Veronica Mars. And you can even blog that I said that."
And the joy he gives me, well, it's really something.