Would I be correct in saying that there is a certain sweet, magical satisfaction that comes with being right? Especially between a husband and wife? There is gratifying validation when the confirming moment occurs and one person is right and the other person has to admit defeat! This happened the other day.
You see, my husband was different when he was active duty Army. His hair was never a millimeter longer than allowed. I’m talking, fresh hair cut every Sunday afternoon for seven years. Clean shaven with a sharp blade every morning. Polished, ironed, pressed, creased, and tucked in 24/7.
Well, things have changed in the last few months. He now ventures out into public in t-shirts and jeans taken from a wadded up pile on the floor. His face is overgrown with untamed, thick whiskers. His hair is long, uncombed, un-gelled, and usually unwashed.
As his wife, I generally feel it is my responsibility to see that he is presentable when we go out. I can usually coax him into getting a haircut and shaving – at least for church. And when he picks out a horrendously inappropriate outfit, I can demand that he change. But I can’t always be around to do that. It usually becomes a battle. Eddie claims he doesn’t look that bad and I’m just too picky. Nobody looks or thinks twice about a guy wearing white cotton socks with dress shoes and pants, and a few wrinkles don’t stand out that bad. For the most part, despite my numerous pleas for regular grooming, he has stuck to his disheveled ways.
The other day, he walked into a McDonalds (his eating habits are another story!) in his usual attire – wrinkled t-shirt, old Army camouflage pants, and flip-flops. His hair was a long, wild mess and he hadn’t shaved in days. He noticed an old friend that he went to school with and walked over to say hello. As he got closer, the man looked down, more intensely at his cell phone and turned his body away from Eddie. Eddie called out a hello, but he just put his head farther down in deliberate avoidance. Finally Eddie yelled his name and said, “Hey, we went to school together.” Finally the man looked up and after a moment of thought he finally recognized Eddie. “Sorry man, I thought you were a bum coming to bother me for money.”
Need I say more? He may look like a bum, but he's my bum.