Testosterone and Marriage; My Manly Man

Little boys love their toys, and they never really outgrow that. The only problem is as they grow bigger, so do their toys. The very moment we get a vehicle, the first thing he does is try to convince me that it need a lift.

That's all well and good for him, he is 6' tall. Unfortunately I am only 5'-4" and that's on a good day. I can't get into a normal truck without a step stool and a boost, and the next thing I know it is 2", 4", 6" higher. Then we add the tires, oh, yes, we must add the tires. Another 6" and I am requesting that he put in an escalator before I will even attempt to drive it.

After the bigger is taken care of, the badder always follows. It needs a new roll bar, it needs a new bumper, it needs lots of big shiny things to make it a real man worthy truck. It needs gadgets and gizmos and things I can't even to begin to understand.

I love him though, so I try.

I stand there when he pops open the hood with a knowing look on my face, and try to say important sounding things like "Yep, that's an engine." He says "Honey, we need a new front end." I shrug my shoulder and say "Why? It looks fine to me!"

For the most part, we adjust, because we love each other. When he works on the vehicles, I just stay inside and out of his way. It really is better that way, trust me. I can't risk breaking a nail.

As a woman I am practical, since I love my man, I really do want him to be around for say... the rest of my life?

So sometimes I get a little upset when we don't see eye to eye on safety issues. I just want him to do simple things, you know, wear a seat belt, keep it under 95, keep all four tires on the ground.

I don't always see the humor in things the way he does. See the jeep? That was my mother's day present, shortly after we got married. Not the jeep itself, but the position it found itself in. We were camping by the river when he went for a quick little drive.

A little while later the dogs took off down the road, I scolded them and called them back when I see a figure off in the distance walking towards me. "Whatcha doin'" I ask. "Awww," he says "I rolled the jeep." Now this came out of his mouth sounding more like "Awww, I got a splinter." So I shook my head and laughed.

He thinks things like this are funny, so I'm never quite sure when he is serious. "Really," he says. "I rolled the jeep."

He likes to call me his Queen... Well the Queen is not amused...

That's the sense of humor he has, I'm never really sure if he is joking or not.

He likes to pull little pranks like calling me and saying he broke his arm riding his dirt bike. He'll keep me going until I am dressed, kids in the car, purse on my shoulder and saying I need to hang up so I can come get him before he lets me in on his little joke.

I'm just never quite sure with him.

You see, he has had a few "minor" injuries in our time together.

Like the day he was working on a construction job with his brother, and I get this call from my sister-in-law. She tells me that he in in the ER because he fell on a table saw, but it isn't bad.

So all the way to the clinic I am asking myself, how bad is "not bad" when the words "fell on a table saw" are involved. A few fingers gone?

I walk in as the doctor is preparing to stitch him up and trying to figure out how to do it, joking that he could probably cut off his big toe and sew it in there it was so perfect. As it turned out the table saw actually fell on him. Popping a nice, neat little hole in his leg about the size of a dime.

I took one look and my stomach went all funny, but there he is saying "Look honey, isn't it cool?"

Then... he sends me to the store because he is hungry.

I grabbed a bag of Frito's and some bean dip and rushed back, which he eats while the doctor is putting twelve stitches in his leg. I just shook my head and laughed. As soon as he was done getting stitches, he went and played football with his nephews.

God help us, we just might be rednecks... a fact that he denies daily but come on, look at that truck. Yeah, I know.

I've never had a cast or stitches in my life, no major surgeries either, but that's okay because I have HIM. He has more than made up for it since we have been together.

Not counting the strange case of the tiny cut on his thumb that got antibiotic resistant staph and cost us over $1000 before it was all over...

There was the piece of metal that got stuck in his eye, the broken wrist, and two knee surgeries, a few stitches, and a whole lot of road rash AND he is still relatively close to being in one piece... today...

The above photo is his latest construction project, an addition for my grandmother. He and his friend have been working on it three weeks and it is nearly completed. The drywall will be going in next week, and so far his luck is holding out. *Fingers are crossed*

That is another one of those things that nobody tells you about marriage, at least when it comes to the manly types, they always seem to be trying to kill themselves.

Now, I knew his passion was motocross when we met.

What I didn't know, is how very little of that time would actually be spent on the ground. A motorcycle it seems is not made to be on the ground at all, oh no. It is supposed to be hurtling through the air at 60 miles an hour.

I promised myself I would be a supportive wife, and I have been, I've tried so hard. When the weather was too cold for him to work on his bike outside, it sat in our living room, for a month. When he decided he was ready to start racing on the circuit I followed him to all of his races and cheered him on.

I actually enjoyed it for the most part. The smell of dust in the air, the sound of the engines revving. Sometimes I was more excited than he was. As he brought home trophy after trophy I encouraged him even more. He had a passion, and he was good at it, what more could a wife ask for?

but...

Yep, there it is. But...

When things don't go right, darling husbands tend to bounce. Sometimes they leave large portions of their flesh behind. It isn't pretty. Then when the doctor is done putting the cast on, the fine doc turns to darling wifey and hands her an iodine brush. "When you get him home, get him in the shower and scrub the debris out of those wounds."

So there I am trying to remove rocks and rubble from what seems to be one whole side of his body. I of course am not a nurse, I am a wife, my job is to pamper him, not torture him, so I'm gently scrubbing the wounds, trying my very best not to actually look at them and he is yelling "Honey, it hurts, just do it and get it over with!"

This was not in the vows, I know, I checked. Well there is that little "till death do us part" thing, but nobody told me that he would be actively pursuing that goal.

Not much can prepare your for marriage, it doesn't matter who you marry, there will always be those little adjustments you both have to make.

He was a bachelor, and most thought he would remain that way for the rest of his life. He had never even had a serious girlfriend, well a few girls were serious about him but he was to busy having fun.

We moved in together and the single man went from a nice quiet home to a house full of screaming, fighting kids. He knew as much about women as I did about men, and we were both very confused at first.

"Why are you girls always crying???" he used to ask, oh wait, sometimes he still does. Meanwhile I'm asking, "Don't you ever cry? Even a little?" We don't always get each other, but that's okay. It works.

He stood by me through all of the emotional ups and downs the past few years have held for me. He suffered as much as I did. He held me when I went through those long phases where I could barely stand to be touched.

When I said one more drink and we are through, he quit cold turkey. It took 18 months for me to trust his sobriety, but even separated, he still came to my door on Valentine's Day with roses, and chocolate. He brought me fake roses even, because he knows how sad I always am when real ones die.

Through all of the months I told him I didn't want anything to do with him, or any man, he still kept coming by to talk to me until I finally gave up. He stayed sober, and he refused to lose me he is persistent, and I'm glad.

Some men will always be little boys, but that isn't such a bad thing. Late at night I watch him sleeping and I see that big strong man that carried us through so many hard times. I also see a glimpse of what his mother must have seen when she checked on her sleeping angel. The way his hand curls under his cheek, the way his face smooths and softens when he dreams. He is beautiful then, and he is beautiful now.

I can't imagine life without him, I really can't. When I met him, I had no hope, no self-esteem, no faith in men, and he still loved me. He is the one who told me to stop being such a door mat and stand up for myself, even when it meant standing up to him.

If I am a queen today, it is only because he is my king.

Is it worth it? After my first marriage I would have answered with a resounding no way in hell, but when you find the right person, when you are both willing to work at it, and you base your marriage on the solid ground of friendship and respect.

Even seven years later...

Yes, yes, yes it is.

Blessings