Learning the Hard Way

I don’t want to belabor a point I have already made multiple times on this blog, but I have been with SRH for a relatively long time. Together over 11 years, married for 9 of those. I met him at 20 years old, and he became my best friend as we dated, got married, got our first “real” jobs, bought a house, and had a baby.

Which is simply to say that we know each other quite well. There are very few surprises in this relationship. Of course, the occasional kooky observation flies from SRH’s mouth, and I’m astonished and horrified. But in general, we’re not discovering new things about each other on a daily basis. Sure, I was shocked to find that SRH did not use hyperbole when describing the miraculous vanilla frosty. I think it was in retaliation to my blind-siding him with the recent information that I’ve never had a burrito. But those are two of only 3-4 revelations we’ve had about each other in the past few years.

This is all a long way to say that I discovered something new about my beloved this weekend. Or rather, I discovered something new about our relationship to each other. Our relationship as two objects that are moving about in the same space, to be more exact. I’m sure this relationship could be expressed as a mathematical equation, but since I don’t do math, I’ll just show you a picture.

(I am aware that I could have put one of the hundreds of normal pictures of the three of us, but really, this one is way funner.)

Look carefully. If you’ll notice my eyes are exactly at the level of SRH’s shoulder – making me approximately 84% of his height. (See, I can do math if I absolutely have to. But please do not check this figure, as it is most likely wrong). But again, I go off my point.

My point is that my eye socket is exactly at the level of SRH’s big, fat shoulder. Therefore, when big, fat shoulder man (hereafter referred to as BFSM) happens to pass me as he’s walking from the dining room to the living room, he could, conceivably, throw a shoulder and whack me in the orbital socket.

Which is exactly what happened on Sunday. BFSM was hurrying by me, when he hit me in the eye with his overgrown deltoid, and I fell to the floor in agony. Or rather, I looked at him accusingly and said, What did you do that for?

BFSM tried to act like he didn’t know what I was talking about. He tried to say it was an accident. He tried to insinuate that my eye may have been looking for a fight and his shoulder got caught up in the moment.

And while there were no marks, this is how my poor eye felt afterward.

In fact I was so traumatized that I waited a few days to post about it, filled the intervening post with senseless blather about Zane’s cardiologist appointment, and waited for BFSM to be available to Photoshop a few images . It was a burning concern, I tell you.

Clearly, secrets between partners only lead to trouble.