I have been married to a man for twenty years. And for the first ten of it I called him Mr Fluffer.
Any marriage in this day and age that lasts for 20 years is a feat in an of itself. But I have little to do with that. I am married because my Mr Fluffer is a great man among men.
My husband is a Renaissance Man. The most versatile man I have ever met. Mensa IQ. Detailed artist. Designer. Landscaper. Fix-it-man. Computer Database Architect (self taught) with a Masters in Business (that he doesn’t use, grrr). Poetic writer. Great sense of humor. Mathematician. Chef. Athelete. Computer gamer extraordinaire, grr. And HE SEWS. Ok, he used to sew, and can do it if it had to be done. He can cheerfully go to a football game or a fine arts event. He can figure out what he doesn’t know and then go do it well. He was model gorgeous when I married him (sigh, so was I). And, when I married him, a sweet and gentle personality.
We were two peas in a pod, although I took him for granted. I karate chopped our short lived relationship and he hung around, determined to Win Me Back. For Five Years. Did I say he was determined too? Yet I still took him for granted. Even though we were two peas in a pod. We liked to do the same activities and shared the same tastes (we have decorated three houses and cheerfully survived each one).
I like to make fun of his more artistic side. For a long time his name was Mr Fluffer. Dude could fluff anything out to perfection. We made all the curtains in our first house, Brent sewing them and then fluffing them oh-so-beautifully. I cant fluff to save my life. Too much attention to uniformity and detail to make it nice. Of course I told everyone about my fluffy husband and Mr Fluffer sprang to life. I hurt his manhood and it took years for him to live that down.
Sadly, I kinda ruined the sweet and gentle personality. I am tough to live with, having bipolar disorder and OCD that I hid from all my friends and relatives. And when I got married, I freaked out and led him a life of anxiety and disillusionment. Of all the above, it is the great sense of humor that has kept us together. But at a price. He no longer has that wide eyed delight in everything beautiful, he is a bit cynical and at times a little bitter over all the crap I have thrown at him. Unfair. I took a perfect rose, cut off half its’ buds and sprayed vinegar on it.
Nowadays, he has swung over to man’s man. I have to bear with “Facebear” the beard and a whole lotta attitude. He (sob) doesn’t sew or fluff or snuggle or do any of the sweet things I so took for granted. My weed choked out his flower.
I am so sorry for what I did to you.