****This post appeared on the blog Fresh Confessions of a Screwed Up Texan yesterday. My first guest post ever. I meant to post it here at the same time; however, the reminder on my calendar didn't work. So, here it is...a day late.****
Hello all you happy people. You’ll just have to imagine the Droopy Dog voice here. If you don’t know who Droopy Dog is, you have my pity for obviously misspending your youth on things other than rotting your brain with the very best animation from the Golden Age of Cartoons. Spongebob ain’t got nothing on Droopy. Or Tom & Jerry. Or Wile E. Coyote and Roadrunner. Or…. Google ‘em. Netflix ‘em. Become enlightened. When you can properly identify Michigan J. Frog, you will have achieved…absolutely nothing. But, you will totally ROCK at making strange noises and obscure cartoon references.
Yes, I really do imitate cartoon characters on occasion. No, I am not insane. Yes, my wife, The Queen, is a saint for putting up me and even giving me a courtesy giggle once in a while.
Speaking of my wife, I have volunteered for this guest blogging opportunity to share with you, Allie’s faithful followers, a story about the depth of my affection for the wonderful lady who I refer to as “The Queen”. I call her The Queen because I believe that a wife should be treated as a queen everyday and not just be a “princess for a day” at the wedding. The Queen has no objections to this arrangement and has graciously embraced her royal role.
At any rate, this blog we all read is called “Fresh Confessions of a Screwed Up Texan”. Since, I am, in fact, a screwed up Texan, I have a confession to make. Hi. My name is K., and I am a jealous husband.
I’m not a jealous husband in the Patrick Bergin “Sleeping with the Enemy” mold. And, it’s not that I don’t trust my wife. I most certainly trust her above all other living human beings given the fact that I chose to marry her and all. Besides, my wife is a woman of deep faith and conviction. She would never consider cheating on me because she fears God a whole lot more than she fears anything else. She’s just friendly.
I am a jealous husband because I don’t trust other men. I know men. I am men. Or, at least, I was just like most other men before I met my wife. You see, I know an important truth that escapes most women who are oblivious to the workings of the male mind: Men cannot be “just friends” with women. Even if a man is looking but not touching, he’s wondering about the touching. Single men (and some married ones) hang around women because they are hoping to be dating those women. Even if the woman is already dating (or even married to) someone else, men hang around hoping to “be there to help pick up the pieces” when the woman’s current relationship goes belly up.
The Queen, like most women, is oblivious to this fact. She finds it cute and amusing when some guy compliments her or wants to “be friends”, and I’m just sitting there wondering how many bodies I’m going to have to bury in the back yard.
I’m okay with others worshipping The Queen…respectfully…and from a distance. Really, I am. That is her right as The Queen. I just have a problem with men who lose their minds, simple courtesy and common decency in her presence. It’s embarrassing to her and disrespectful to me.
And it doesn’t help that The Queen knows EVERYONE on the planet. Seriously. She is one of those people who has never met a stranger. Here’s a couple of quick true stories. First, we decided to run (well…walk/jog really) the Turkey Trot in downtown Dallas one year. There are 17,000+ people in City Hall Plaza. The Queen runs into 3 people she went to college with. Next, I had to go to North Carolina or Virginia on a business trip back when we were still just dating. I arrive at DFW airport (which is an area larger than the island of Manhattan) at a little after midnight. I walk off the plane to be greeted by the sight of my future Queen waiting for me at the gate (this is pre-9/11) talking to people she knew from college…that she ran into at the big, freakin’ airport…at MIDNIGHT. This happens everywhere. All the time.
Seeing as how I am supposed to be King and Lord High Protector of The Queen, her familiarity with just about everyone makes my job difficult at times.
For example, every year in the fall our church organization holds a festival where members from congregations from around the world gather together for worship and fellowship. It’s a great time. The Queen grew up in the church and, as you might imagine, was courted and sought after by several men in the church before I came along. I have heard many a story about how so and so took The Queen out to dinner when she was 17 and offered her a ring or how this guy’s mother offered The Queen the house of her choice if she would just marry her son. Some of these guys are STILL single 20+ years later (no real surprise with some), and we still run into some of them at these church festivals. Do you see where this is going?
Yeah, I tend to get a little over protective in these situations. Case in point. One year we attended the church festival out in California where there is a higher than normal concentration of The Queen’s former beaus as that is where The Queen’s family is from, where the church was headquartered, where The Queen went to college, etc. Of course, The Queen has to introduce me to these men who are still interested in her. And I’m remembering all the stories I’ve been told. And I’m trying to NOT to kill them…at a church festival of all places.
As is the way of things at these festivals, the fellowshipping after services usually finds people meandering, mixing and mingling. This particular year, I was speaking with some musicians across the room from The Queen as there was talk of forming a brass sextet (I play trumpet). While engaged in my conversation, I look around the room to see where my wife is to find The Queen speaking with The Boy Whose Mother Offered The Queen a House (said boy is now 50…and still single). TBWMOTQH is closer than I feel is comfortable to The Queen, and The Queen is chatting away oblivious to the fact that TBWMOTQH is staring at her chest.
From this point forward, I am across the room from The Queen continuing my conversation while looking directly at The Queen and TBWMOTQH. Shortly after I began my lurking from afar of The Queen, my wife “just happens” to look my way and give me a little smile and wave. The Queen later told me that she could feel me staring at them from across the room.
She says that it was like I was “peeing on her leg”…from across the room.
So, now, anytime we are in a social situation and I walk up next to The Queen when she is speaking with another man, she tells me I’m peeing on her leg. She says she finds it very comforting to know that I’m protective of her. I’m okay with that.