Obviously it sucks for him to be married to me - that goes without saying.  He didn't actually intend to propose to me.  For years I teased him mercilessly by saying "When you're ready to propose you just take yourself right on down to the local Target and get me one of those fancy Mystic Fire Topaz rings."  So, on Valentine's day four years ago, he gave me a plastic jewlery box with a card.  The box contained a Mystic Fire Topaz ring and the card said "Have a Mystical Valentine's Day." He thought he was proposing to propose someday, but I took him at his word and cracked open a shiny new binder and started making plans.  Before he could clarify his position, Save The Date cards were in the mail, and we're now about to celebrate our 3rd wedding anniversary.  Poor guy.

Dave is one of those genuinely nice guys.  Everybody likes him.  Most people, including his mother, are at a complete loss as to why on earth he picked a surly bitch like me to be his bride.  In the eight years we've been together we've never had a fight.  Not for a lack of trying on my part mind you.  I'm always spoiling for a fight.  It's just that he's so bloody nice, that there's never anything to fight about.  Instead, when I am asleep I dream about his evil twin, whom we call Evil Dave, and with whom I'm constantly battling.  Evil Dave is a Class A asshole and a dirt bag.  He is routinely cheating on me with hot young babes, calling me fat, and generally making my nocturnal married life a living hell.  I suspect Dave is a little jealous of Evil Dave's cavalier attitudes. Several mornings a week I roll over to Dave and mutter "You are such an asshole!" To which he responds "What has Evil Dave done now?"   Poor guy.

©Warner Bros.

 Last week, when we were out having date night, we were discussing the fact that even if Dave wanted to, he is quite incapable of cheating on me.  It's not just a lack of initiative on his part.  He's got a number of strikes against him should he get an inkling to try.  First off he works 80 hour weeks which leaves him very little free time or the energy required to pursue some hot young babe.  Secondly there's the fact that I handle our finances and would catch-on pretty quickly if he was trying to wine, dine, or buy gifts for a trollop.  Thirdly, for work he wears a Kung Fu uniform and I buy the rest of his clothes off the rack at Target.  This is not the wardrobe of a player.  And finally, there's the fact that he drives a Smart Car and really, what hot young thing is gonna take a middle-aged man in a clown car seriously? Poor guy.

 I can't say as I am much help to him in his plight.  Last Sunday night we were out in the backyard sitting by our firepit having a glass of wine and listening to music.  In the midst of his attempts to romance me Shaun Cassidy's "That's Rock 'n' Roll" came on the Sirius radio and I abruptly shushed him with "It's Shaun Cassidy - you shut up!"  Then Monday night he arrived home from work at 10:30PM, starved, and the house was filled with the smell of peanut butter cookies.  He was eagerly searching to kitchen looking for the tasty treats, when I quashed his hopes of a late night snack by informing him that I had baked peanut butter treats for the dogs, not him.  Poor guy.