Twas Brillig

“What’s wrong?  You’ve been on edge all night!”  Hubby blurted out as I was kissing him goodnight.

Um… I had no idea what he was talking about.  Nothing was wrong, and I didn’t feel “on edge.”

I started thinking, “okay, what would he be talking about.  Am I upset?  Did something happen today that I forgot to tell him about?”

As I’m just about to the point where I’m whacking my head against the wall, trying to figure out what on earth he’s talking about, he announces, “you’re really terrible at hiding your anger!!!”

Again, I’m flabbergasted.  I’m not angry!  But the more I insist that I’m not angry, the angrier I sound…

Finally, I give up trying to convince him that I’m fine, I put my arms around him and tell him that I’m sorry about whatever it is that caused him to think I was upset, and I’m sorry for the stress this must have brought him.  He seems to accept that, and he goes right to sleep.

But I don’t.  I’m still perplexed by all of this.  I go back over my day in my mind.  Actually, as I think about it, it’s been both a great day and an awful one.  Great because I  had fun with my cute little family.  Since it was Monday, we had our weekly “Family Home Evening” where we had a Gospel lesson and then we all went to a local museum, and then milkshakes for dessert.  So much fun!

The bad part of my day was that the trip—you know, the one I filed for a passport for, the one I wasn’t going to talk about because I didn’t dare jinx it?  Yeah, that fell through very suddenly last night.  I confess that I felt some bitterness and frustration over that (just ask Kate… she was on IM with me when I found out) but I got over it, as I always do, and I was fine.  Still disappointed, but not angry by any stretch of the imagination.
Finally,  I decided to stop figuring out why Brian thought I was angry.  It was just making me… angry.  I was analyzing myself to see if there was any reason to be angry, and the truth about life is that if you look hard enough you can ALWAYS find something to be angry about.  I decided to stop looking.

Part of me now wonders if he was just using me as a science experiment or something.  haha.

I think tonight, just before we go to bed, I’ll ask him why he’s so angry.  Let’s see how he reacts…  hahaha.

As we’re sitting in our bedroom I reach for the remote control to turn the TV on.

Hubby: Don’t you ever just wanna talk? Instead of watching TV? Can’t we just talk?

Brillig: We can talk with the TV on, though, right?

Hubby: Wouldn’t it be nice to just talk though?

And then, he suddenly buries his face in his hands and says,

Hubby: Oh my gosh! I’m the WOMAN in our relationship!!!!

Yo. It’s kinda like Flashback Friday or Soap Opera Sunday, except that it’s a Tuesday. Just bear with me, okay?

About seven and a half years ago, I went up to Park City (I was living in Southern Utah at the time) to visit my older brother, J. He was going to be meeting up with some friends there–friends I didn’t know, but I was always eager to meet any new group of young men.
When we met up with his friends, I naturally checked each one out. I found them to be lacking… But all of a sudden, an incredibly handsome chap emerged from behind the others and I. Was. Smitten.

We hung out with this group of friends for a few hours, during which time I did my darndest to get to know the one hot guy. I was outgoing and friendly and ridiculously self-confident. He was a little more quiet, but radiated kindness and a great sense of humor. And he seemed interested enough…

That afternoon, we all went our separate ways. My brother J and I hung out for the rest of the weekend, during which time I plagued him constantly with questions about that friend. Who is he? Where is he from? How do you know him? What does he like? Do you think he likes me? And so on, until I think my poor brother was ready to strangle me.

Anyway, the weekend ended and I headed “home” to my school and my… um… boyfriend. (Oooops, did I leave that part out?) But I couldn’t get that guy out of my head.

As it turned out, J’s friend had been bugging J with all those same questions about me. And, as it turned out, J was ready to strangle us BOTH. But he kept our mutual interest in each other a secret, the little stinker. (J had recently been in a relationship with a friend of mine, and we both learned that being in the middle of your sibling and friend’s relationship can be very sticky–especially when things turn south. So I get why he wanted to stay out of it. Still, he could have let me know that his friend was interested, right? Instead of tormenting me…)

A few months went by, and I still couldn’t get him out of my head. I was coming into town for a friend’s wedding, and so J arranged a big group date and I was set up with the cute Park City boy (who wasn’t actually from Park City, but that’s where I met him. Confusing?) It was very clear right off the bat that this guy and I were extremely different people. He wasn’t like anyone I’d ever dated or ever expected to date. But he was so darling. And so sweet. And I was completely infatuated. But, again, the weekend ended and I had to go back to my job, my apartment, and yet another boyfriend.

But I was constantly haunted by Park City boy.  His eyes, his smile, his sense of humor, his attitude, his whole aura.  Everything about him intrigued, fascinated, and excited me.

So, I did what any lovesick responsible girl would do. I followed my gut and moved back north. After all, I’d hated my job and my apartment (and my boyfriend) and it was time to start over somewhere else (and being closer to Park City boy was just a perk, right?). Everything about this move went so smoothly, as though it had all been orchestrated to work out. Kate, who had been my dear friend for many years already, had an opening in her apartment for a roommate, so I took it and moved in with her. I got a great job. I was near my friends and family… and Park City boy.

Almost an entire nano-second passed after I’d relocated before Park City boy and I were dating. Very seriously. Again, we were SO different, but we were so perfect together.  That’s not to say that it was always rosy–sometimes we disagreed, sometimes we downright fought, and once we even broke up. Now, I’d broken up with plenty of guys by this time, but I’d never cared. I’d never missed them when they were gone. EVER! But this… this was different. About ten seconds after I “dumped him” I realized my huge mistake. I held out for about a week but finally I couldn’t bear it anymore. I caved in and I called him–and it became clear that he was missing me as much as I was missing him.

Breaking up was probably the best thing that ever happened to us, because it made me realize that the idea of my life without him in it was unbearable.

So, we got back together. And I never once questioned if it was the right choice. It just was. Every part of my soul knew that I was meant to be with him.

Exactly 7 years ago today (on my 22nd birthday!) he knelt down before me and asked me to marry him. I said yes.
And that, Gentle Readers, is how Park City boy became Mr. Brillig.
And yes, those of you astute enough to pick up on it, today’s my birthday. My 29th birthday. But we shall refrain from talking about that, because 29 sounds eerily close to 30, which sounds downright geriatric. And I’m MUCH too young and frivolous and silly to be geriatric…

Still, it’s my day! So I’m off to celebrate. Hope you’re all enjoying it as much as I am.

Yesterday, I told my husband about my friend Jenn in Holland who was missing home on the 4th of July and that she wouldn’t even be able to light the fireworks that she’d saved from New Year’s that night because it was raining. “So I told her to go see the hot guy who sells her cheese, and that would create fireworks for her.” I giggled. Hubby just stared at me.

Okay, not funny?

“Isn’t Jenn married?”

“Yes,” I answer.

We were then interrupted by little cherubs with big demands, but a few minutes later Hubby came back and said, “Do you think there’s a double standard? I mean, if two married guys had had that conversation, you would call them pigs. Why is it not equally wrong for two married girls to have that conversation?”

I acknowledged that the guys would be considered pigs. It’s one thing when Hubby acknowledges that a girl is “pretty.” That doesn’t bother me at all. But if he’d had a conversation about “creating fireworks” with some girl, it would have infuriated me.

He also pointed out to me that my girlfriends and I giggle about male celebrities, and hang pictures of them on our blog-walls, and talk about “drooling” over them, and so on. But again, if he were to put a picture of Pamela Anderson on his blog and talk about drooling, he would, again, be a pig.

True.

I offered him an explanation of why I thought there was this double standard, if you want to call it that. There really is a difference, I think. But before I tell you what I told him, I want to know how YOU, Gentle Readers, would respond.

So, is there a double standard? And if it is a double standard, is it justified or not? Lurkers, de-lurk today. I really want to know what everyone thinks of this. I’ll have a follow-up post in a few days.

Oh, and, um… this blog is rated PG. I know that this is a topic that could quickly turn… um… NOT PG. You KNOW I don’t like censorship, but I will have to edit things if they get out of hand so, um, don’t let them. Okay? Ready, set, GO!