After nearly 22 years of wedded bliss I am happy to share that my husband Bob and I never bicker. All of our moments are filled with sunshine and roses and smiles and laughter. We skip through the house, singing silly love songs, proclaiming our love for each other 24-hours a day.
Yeah, right.
The love is there, in fact it's always there.
But do we bicker? Of course we bicker!
We bicker over the usual things that cause many a marital rift - money, chores, or his insistance on driving like a homicidal maniac every time he gets behind the wheel.
Yet in the end, the love is always there, and we tell each other so every time we part ways, whether it's leaving each day for work, or before hanging up the phone.
My Bob is kind and caring and affectionate. Whether he is giving me a much-needed hug, or soothing away my stress with a well-timed back massage, his touch is always sweet and gentle.
Except at night.
In the middle of the night to be exact.
I usually start my bedtime routine a bit earlier than my hubs, preferring to wind down by snuggling in bed, curled up with a good book. Bob, on the other hand, watches TV to lull him to sleep, which works quite well. He typically conks out on the family room sofa, only to wake up in the wee hours of the morning, stumble up the stairs, and join me in bed.
Most nights I don't even wake up when he crawls under the covers, I just take comfort in knowing that in the morning I'll always find him there by my side.
Except for last night.
In the middle of the night to be exact.
He worked on a cruise ship and had the strange assignment of throwing people overboard. In fact, his strange dream came with intricate details. He had to toss one respresentative from each of our country's 50 states off the luxury liner and into the sea. (Imagine the odds of a representative from each of the 50 states being on the same cruise ship. That must have been some dream.)
There's nothing quite like being in a deep, deep restful sleep when all of the sudden the fist of your betrothed hits you square in the jaw.
I have read articles about the body's reaction to being attacked. In that instant, the brain decides to either:
1. Fight
OR
2. Flight
I could have chosen Option 2, jumped out of bed and allowed him to throw the pillows overboard. (There are 4 pillows on the bed, he could've easily knocked off Alabama, Alaska, Arizona, and Arkansas.) But instead I chose Option 1, figuring if I didn't attempt to wake him up, who knows how many bruised body parts I'd have before he got down to tossing the rep from Wyoming off the ship.
My poor Bob, obviously unaware of his actions, awakened to find his wife beating the crap out of him and screaming, "What the hell is wrong with you!"
Of course, having no control over his dreams, he felt absolutely terrible for his actions and apologized more times than you can imagine.
Nevertheless, I think I'll encourage my love to simply stay on the sofa tonight. Either that or I'll wear body armour to bed. Because you never know when that cruise ship will sail again.
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