The Man I Love Is . . . Well . . . Weird

There are so many things about Hubs that I love. 

So. Many. Things.

He scrapes my car for me on winter mornings. (Never mind the fact that he did it with a snow shovel that caused deep horizontal scratches across my windshield and thereby required the windshield  be replaced.)

He has completely remodeled my kitchen for me.  (Ignore the fact that the project was started in April of 2009.)

He has trekked across the frozen tundra to get me the perfect Christmas tree. (It was also uphill and he was barefoot. At least that's the way he tells it.)

And, the man makes me coffee every morning.  (Although I am suspicious that he does this good deed purely for his own benefit.  I am not my best in the morning without caffeine.  Who is?  Wait.  Don't answer that.  I may be forced to hate you.)

The man clearly loves me.

But, my favorite thing about Hubs has got to be one of his little known quirks.

He analyzes people's eyes.

I know.  I know. 

Completely weird, right? 

Yes.  But, oh so completely endearing too.

Just read below and see what you think . . .

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The Eye of the Beholder  originally posted 2/2009

I am a vain person. I fully admit it and own up to it. I care about the way that I look. So when hubby informed me that I had one eye that was smaller than the other, I thought that he was joking.


Immediately, I put up my first defense, "C'mon honey. Be serious!"

Cool as a cucumber, and without a hint of his usual sarcasm, he answered, "I am Annie. Your left eye is smaller than your right."

I searched his expression for any tell tale give away to his obvious joke, but found nothing.

"You're sure this isn't like the "big head" incident?" I asked, referencing the time that he had me going for almost a week that I had an abnormally large head for my body. He had seen it on an old Seinfeld rerun. Elaine's boyfriend had broken up with her because, in his words, she had a big head. Literally. Hubby had used the same tactics on me once, and my vanity had me believing that my melon was grossly disproportionate for my 5'2" body.

He patted my head lovingly and said, "Sweetie, it's no big deal."

Those words did me in.

I won't say that I ran to the mirror, but I did that silly walk run combo you see old men in nylon shorts do at the beach. And to my horror, I discovered that he was right! I pulled the curtain open in the bathroom in the hopes that allowing more light into the room would prove that the mirror was lying. But alas, it was not. My left eye was and is slightly smaller than my right. I was in shock. How could I have lived all these 35 years and never noticed that I was not proportional? But more importantly, after almost 9 years together, why was this the first time he had said anything to me about it? Why not just let me live in my ignorance? Why alert me to my eye lopsidedness?

I practically slid down the banister rushing to get back to confront him. "Why didn't you say something?!!!!!"

"About what?"

"About my eye!"

We stared at each other for a few seconds, probably trying to determine how and what to say next.

Carefully, he started. "Annie . . ." I always know that when he starts with my name, he is trying to soften me up. As in, "Annie . . . I wrecked your jeep or Annie . . . what are your thoughts about a 2 day golf trip?" Starting with my name, usually meant that I didn't want to hear his next words.

"Annie . . . I never said anything before, because it is not that big of a deal."

Easy enough for a non-vain person to say. I continued my stare in the hopes that he would continue. He did, but I wasn't prepared for his explanation.

"It really isn't that big of a deal, because . . ." and here was the kicker, "every person has one eye bigger than the other."

What? What? What? Was he seriously using that as his argument?

I retorted. "And I suppose that you look at every person's eyes to determine which eye has the deficit?"

And he shot back, "As a matter of fact, I do. I always can tell right away a person's smaller eye."

I didn't respond because I was too busy thinking . . .What? My hubby is weird! What else don't I know about him? Is he secretly OCD like Monk on TV? Does he check out people's other body parts? I was beginning to forget why I was arguing with him in the first place. I couldn't let this new tidbit go without some further investigation.

"So you mean to tell me that you analyze people's eyes for symmetry as soon as you meet them?"

"Yep."

"So if I named a person right now, you could tell me which eye is smaller?"

"Yep. Shoot"

So I went for it.

"Abbie"

"Left."

"Ethan?"

"Right."

"Your sister?"

"Oh that's easy. Left."

We went on this way for several more minutes. I threw in friends, family members, celebrities, and even sports figures until I realized that this was not a function of my husband being critical of other people's appearances. This was a game for him. It was just something to do to pass the time. Once I realized that, I let go of my vain anger and decided to have fun with him. It was weird, don't get me wrong. But once I figured out it wasn't malicious, it WAS fun.

And now, since I know this latest little idiosyncrasy about him, it is also enjoyable for me to analyze with him. Case in point, last night at our Valentine's dinner, the waitress took our order and left the table. All I did was raise my eyebrow at hubby, and he knew.

"Left."

And then we laughed like idiots.

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See?

Completely lovable.

I am linking this to Mama Kat and her oh so fabulous Writer's Workshop.  You rock Mama Kat!