Hi everyone. I’m the wife of The Jogging Dad.
He just abruptly left to go for a run. He does this quite often, whenever incessant questions start driving him up the wall. Questions like: “Daddy, what can we do? We’re bored!“, “Daddy, if God created earth, who created God?” and “Daddy, C just spilled milk again all over the floor! Can you please go and clean it up?” And those are just questions from me. You should hear the ones from our two little boys.
In the haste to get away, he forgot to log out of his WordPress blog. So, I thought, what better way to have some fun than to write something here and let all you followers of The Jogging Dad (I think there are about six of them, including himself) in on some dirt on my husband.
The first thing to say about my dear sweet man is that he is anal. Like REALLY anal. Like Anal with a capital A. Everything has to be structured and ordered in his world. And I mean everything! He’s the kind of guy who gets all stressed out if things are not aligned exactly parallel or perpendicular to the sides. He’s got strict routines for everything, from his morning rituals and exercise regimes, to his dish-washing and late-night binge-eating.
If I ever want some quick comic relief, all I have to do, for instance, is to put his iPhone next to his alarm clock on the bedside table, instead of in the usual spot next to his wallet that is 30cm away. Then I just sit back, wait for him to discover the ‘irregularity’ and watch him get all flustered. He would quickly put the iPhone back in its proper place and then hunt around the house looking for the culprit who dared messing with the order of his universe.
Also, did you know that my husband doesn’t let me iron his business shirts? In fact, he doesn’t even let me wash them. He puts his business shirts in a separate pile, washes and irons them himself. He thinks when I wash them, they get too many creases and, when I iron them, they don’t have enough sharp creases in the right places. Can you believe that? I mean, we have a house maid who comes twice a week and he doesn’t even let her iron his business shirts. And she’s a professional!!!
It is also because of this “neatness” that some people mistake him for a gay person. He’s obviously not, otherwise, I wouldn’t be here. But even if he wasn’t married, I can tell you he’s the furthest thing from being gay. You see, when I think of a gay man, I think of someone who is sensitive and well-spoken, with an educated air about him.
My husband, on the other hand, can be a very crude man. Crude in a very endearing and LMAO kind of way. He frequently utters the most politically-incorrect things – the kind that makes you cringe on the outside but laugh silly on the inside. Not only that, but give my man a perfectly clean joke, and he can de-sanitise it in an instant with judicious uses of expletives and ghastly inappropriate expressions.
And these expressions of his, I have no idea how he comes up with these. Just the other day, we were out shopping and I pointed out a painting that I really liked. His reponse was: “Honey, I can fart something better than that“. Or how about this one? Whenever he meets someone who is very cheap with money, my husband would turn to me and say something like: “That guy, he’s tighter than a nun’s ass!” You see what I mean when I say he makes me cringe on the outside but laugh silly on the inside?
While I’m on the subject of expression, my husband does a lot of this physically. What I mean is, give him an inkling of an excuse, and he will take off his shirt. Temperature above 20 degrees Celsius? Off goes his shirt. Going out for a run? Off goes his shirt. Russia has just invaded Ukraine? Off goes his shirt.
I understand there’s this thing called freedom of expression. But no 40 year-old should be free to express and bare his chest at every opportunity – a habit he of course denies strenuously! Just the other day, he comes back home from a run with no shirt on while my younger sister was visiting.
“Why are you prancing around in public without a shirt on?!?! What’s the matter with you??!!“, my sister exclaimed.
“Because it’s really hot out there, woman!“, he replied while pulling funny faces at my sister’s little baby.
My sister and I both cast a glance outside. It was cloudy, windy with a storm brewing. We then looked at each other and giggled, while rolling our eyes to the back of our heads.
What is more embarrassing is my husband’s sixth sense for any good-looking women within a 100m radius. What infuriates and yet chuckles me is how he so subtly tries to look at them while I’m standing right there next to him! He’s got this technique whereby, when he sees a nice looking woman, he will turn his head away from her and focus on a spot in the direction that she is walking towards. That way, he gets a good look at her when she comes into his line of vision without falling foul of my wrath. Well, that’s his logic anyway.
But I have been with him since our first year at law school some 20 years ago. And I am intimately familiar with his bag of tricks. This, of course, makes it all the comical whenever I see him trying to fool me, such as pretending to read an article in my Vogue magazine when I know he’s just staring at Miranda Kerr’s legs in the photo. LOL!!!
Oh, boy, there’s so much more I could reveal about my husband. Unfortunately, I think I just heard him come in the front door from his run. That was quick! He usually runs like a crazy man for ages. Maybe he remembered that he forgot to log out of the blog and has come back to ‘secure’ his digital domain.
So, hurry! Let me quickly press this ‘Publish’ button before he comes in the room! Oh wait, I better sign off in his usual way.
Keep on pounding (what on earth does that mean anyway? Knowing him, it probably means something very crude). 🙂