Doing battle with daily dragons

Thursday, August 11, 2005

Poker Face

My husband is a tremendous liar. He tells me things and I believe him because 6 years ago I told the vicar that I would. Not that "Will you love, honor and believe every damn thing that comes out of his mouth" was part of the vows or anything, but it was kind of implied with the whole "love and honor" bit.

I discovered this unorthodox talent for the first time early on when we were dating and he swore 6 times til Sunday that he didn’t know what a douche was for and made me sit there, with my ears turning red, trying to explain it to him. Of course, he exploded into fits of laughter when I’d finished received a sound beating for his trouble.* His bald, straight-faced deceptions have gotten the better of me more times since than I care to admit.

Today, while enjoying the sunshine out on the lawn, he jammed a blade of grass up my nose, as he is wont to do. When it emerged from my nostril, he looked at it in dismay and sheepishness.

“I think there was an ant on there,” he admitted.

This statement provoked the expected response; a football player-esque nose clearing attempt in the middle of the lawn, startling the cat and causing the dog to have one of his Mad Max moments.

The Rock Star, of course, was rolling on the grass laughing. “I can’t believe you believed me!” he howled, as I furiously rubbed my hands on the grass trying to ride them of the contents of my nasal passages.

Vengeance shall be mine. Oh yes. It shall be mine.

*Only two weeks earlier, a guy in our study group had HONESTLY asked what a speculum was for, (we told him and he wished that he hadn’t) so when The Rock Star put his own question to me, I assumed it was merely ignorance derived from a childhood without sisters instead of a diabolical scheme to make me squirm.