Tag Archives: marriage

20 (Selected) Things I Love About My Wife

Perhaps it is telling that I started this post as 10 things. I had to keep going. And, I could keep going further. But blog best practices suggest that lists should be limited to 10. I think double-flouting that is enough rebellion. Plus, she might get a big head if I listed 30 things. 25 things would be safe, maybe 26, but not 30. So, I give you 20 (selected) things that I love about my wife.

20 Things I Love About My Wife

  1. The Scottish lilt of her voice
  2. Her total devotion to her friends and family
  3. Everything, absolutely everything, about her body
  4. Her colorful and fun sense of style
  5. The passion she has for the sea and all of its inhabitants
  6. Her stunning eyes – with no makeup and with dramatic cat eye makeup
  7. The way she remembers everything and is so thoughtful with details I seem to forget
  8. Her brilliant mind
  9. The fact that she laughs at almost all of my jokes
  10. Her ability to wear heels and other uncomfortable clothing gracefully
  11. The way she holds my hand – actively squeezing, rather than lazily
  12. Her inability to tell a striker from a quarterback
  13. The way she drapes herself over me and fits no matter how small the available space
  14. Her crinkled up nose and other funny faces
  15. The fact that she will grab the screwdriver to tackle a project if I am not fast enough, but stills sees me as big, strong and capable
  16. Her passion for life
  17. How sparkly she is
  18. The unjaded way she sees the world
  19. Her laughter, and her tears
  20. And, last but certainly not least, the fact that she loves me

It’s Butch to proclaim your love loudly, even if you don’t have a blog on which to do it. Be Butch. 


Cheddar Cheese Sticks

 
My wife is working on her PhD. She’s been researching, thinking, collecting, sampling, measuring, and writing for several years now. We are in the home stretch. Seriously. But it doesn’t feel like that to her. To my wife, she’s miles away from the end. And no wonder.

The whole process is miserable and demoralizing. By its very nature, a PhD requires you to answer a question that no one else in the world has answered. That means no one can really tell you if you are right, or what’s next. You are meant to advance science. But the process is brutal. You write about what you did and also what you didn’t do, what you did wrong, and what others can/should do different or better than you. No wonder she’s questioning her intellect. Why didn’t I do it this way from the start? So, it stands to reason that my wife is umm … stressed.

I know it. I see it. But, this morning brought a new level of understanding. I was feeling frisky. Very frisky. My wife, not so much. She basically said “fine.” What a turn on, right? I joked that maybe she shouldn’t talk, to which she wryly responded a moment later by suggesting we go over our shopping list. We laughed and then in a sultry voice she cooed, “Cheddar cheese sticks…”

We began to giggle. Then more robustly. Soon, she was laughing so hard she was crying. Then she was only crying. And apologizing. Poor baby. I held her until she was all cried out. Afterwards, we both felt better – more connected, comforted, though not quite satisfied. I’ll never understand the level of her stress, but I can understand the emotions that I see. My job now is to build her up. To tell her that the questions she’s asking herself about her work don’t apply to her – not to her intellect, her worth, or her self.

It’s Butch to build up your partner – PhD or not. Be Butch. 


The Broom

As promised in my last post, I am going to share some things about the whole getting married process. Here goes.

The first wedding-y thing that She and I did was go to a bridal bazaar. Fun, right? Yes, you are probably imaging right now that I signed us up gleefully and dragged her to this cornucopia of wedding planners, photographers, dress shops, tux purveyors, caterers, dish renters (did you know people do that?), and florists. There was even a fashion show! No, of course, I did not drag Her there. But neither did She have to drag me. I asked Her to marry me. She said yes! So, a wedding was going to happen, and if a wedding was going to happen, we needed things. From people, you know, who handle those things. A bridal bazaar is a pretty efficient way to see a lot of these vendors all in one place. So there. We went.

The first thing that happens, in case you’ve not been, is that we walk in the door and they ask us “Bride or Groom?” They have stickers, you see, pre-printed in pink and blue (surprise!) that say exactly that. You are to wear one of these stickers as you peruse the tables and exhibits, and they instantly mark you as a potential customer. She happily dons a sticker that says “Bride,” as if there was ever any question, and then looks at me anxiously.

We had talked about language not long after we got engaged (it is not just semantics), but hadn’t come to any conclusions. I didn’t like referring to myself as the “Bride” because that has very girly/feminine connotations to it for me. Plus, if ever there was a “Bride” it was my love. “Groom” isn’t right either. I identify as a woman and as female, so I don’t refer to myself with male pronouns. Neither fit and we left it at that.

Back to the sticker passer-outer and my beautiful Bride gazing at me expectantly at the first wedding-y thing we did. Will I pass on a sticker? Will I chose one? Well, without thinking, I took one of each, ripped them each down the middle (basically), put them back together, and formed a new word “Broom.” I was able to do it pretty well, actually, so that the “Br” and the “oom” lined up nicely.

20131206-192433.jpg

I stuck that on my chest – to the delight of my Bride and the sticker passer-outer. You would have thought I was the funniest person in the world judging by her reaction. The sticker passer-outer almost died. She loved it. I smiled at my Bride and we walked on. That initial reaction was repeated throughout the bazaar more times than I can count. It seems no one had ever heard of a “Broom” and everyone loved it.

It was pretty amazing to feel the kind of acceptance that this allowed people to show us. “Broom? I love it!” “Make way for the Bride and the Broom (now let me sell you something, of course)!” “That is the cutest thing I have ever seen!” “I have never heard of a Broom, it’s perfect!”

We scoured every inch of that bazaar, holding hands, heads held high, and had a blast.

We found our photographer there, by the way. Not directly, but through a referral of someone we liked who turned out to be unavailable. So, not only was it relationship and language-affirming, it was fruitful. (I will talk about our photographer and the process in another post.)

Butches, go to a bridal bazaar with your fiancée. Maybe you can even score some butch points by researching one and suggesting it first! If you are marrying a femme, I promise that she has already thought about going to one. I know my Bride was happy the day before, during, and after. I made sure that I didn’t look like the other partners of brides there – miserable and dragged against their wills. And, I was rewarded for it.

It’s very butch to find your own language… and to attend a wedding-y thing. Be Butch.


ButchOnTap

Be Butch.

PinkRoziz

Always A Story...

softlybutch

4 out of 5 dentists recommend this WordPress.com site

Dear Butch, ... Love, Femme

a little sound advice from one side of the spectrum to the other

A Femme in NYC

Adventures & Misadventures of a Butch/Stone Butch Loving Spaniard

A Boy and Her Dog

Traversing the Border between Butch and Transgender

Sudden Awareness

It's like I just awoke to find myself living someone else's life

P J Perryman Books

Sparkly Knickers

Dapper, Irish & Butch

Dapper- it's a state of mind.

singlequeergrrl

single. queer. grrl.

Stories from life

cisgender, unlearning oppression, transgender, resistance, butch, femme, gendered space, women, women and police, women and hospitals, women and transphobia, genderism, transphobia, sexism, allies, coming out, gendered spaces, women and welfare, solidarity, barbara findlay, washrooms, women and psychiatry, still sane

Butch Ramblings

“I’m not wandering aimlessly, I am experiencing endlessly.”

Vulnerable Verbiage

Involving an uninhibited, workaholic, independent, femme lesbian. I let it all hang out in my blog house!! ENJOY!

SNARKBOOM

Random. Snarky. (Not always) Funny.

Warped Rainbow

Pathos: It's not just for breakfast anymore

butchconfessions

confessions of a 20's something urban butch with a yearning for the rural landscape

%d bloggers like this: