Matches are made in heaven

HUMOUR

It is amusing to see the funny side of this relationship. Want to have a peep into mine? My hubby and I are as different as chalk and cheese. He is the light of my life; probably, that is why we have unending ‘fireworks’. The only time my hubby and I agree, is when we decide to disagree. That is why we say that ours is an amicable marriage. We can neither live together nor apart. Interesting? I admit that I cannot live without him. I sometimes wonder if I wasn’t married, who would I battle with? One thing with us is that we never go to bed angry; we just stay up and fight. We never see cornea to cornea, yet we have been together for 25 years. He wonders; how could he have accomplished this feat? He probably hasn’t heard of ‘life sentences’.

Apart from me fantasising about going on dates with George Clooney, Richard Gere and Gerard Butler, my husband is my hero. He is also witty, one of the qualities I love about him. I am his muse; he says. He tells me a joke and pats me on my back; (probably to make me swallow, what he is trying to tell me). It is the little things, funny and otherwise, that make up this union of ours. The bone of contention is that he has to drop me and pick me up wherever I want to go. I don’t know to drive a car or ride a bike. I know what my strong points are and driving is not my forte. I would rather go walking everywhere, than knock down and injure some poor unsuspecting pedestrian. (See, a woman can be honest too.)

Between my husband and me, one is diabolically persuasive, while the other is monumentally egotistical. Now, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to categorise the gender.

Whenever I cry, he just can’t seem to figure out what brought on the hydraulic force. Can’t he read my mind and understand the words that I’m ‘not’ saying? Then I flip my lid when he brings up the topic of crocodiles and tears. I cannot understand why does he have to drag the poor crocodile in-between? I recall this adage by Helen Rowland which sums it up neatly — “To be happy with a man, you must understand him a lot and love him a little. To be happy with a woman, you must love her a lot and not try to understand her at all.” He tells me sweetly that the only thing I can cook well is bring his blood to a boil.

At times like these, I don’t know whether I should hit him with a sauce pan or a chapati roller. I lose my cool when he tells me that I have ozone between my ears. I vehemently deny that. Then I smile coyly at him and say, “Didn’t I make the right decision and marry you?” That stumps him good. I do admit that I am a combination of halo and horns.

He often wonders aloud as to what goes on in my illogical brain? I know that I am exasperating. After all, I work at it. One wise man called ‘woman’ the ‘crown of creation’ and another says, that she is ‘nature’s agreeable blunders’. I don’t know which category I fall into. The perfect man is as mythical as a flying horse and a woman; well, that’s another story. There are millions of theories of arguing with a woman and not one of them work. They say that a woman has the last word in an argument. Anything that a man says after that is the beginning of a new argument. Any questions?