Yeah, I'm outting her, the crafty minx. Trifling with my husband's affections, she is. And don't think I don't see what's going on with Margalit, too, while we're on the topic.
You've all seen Alex's intermittent interest in all things blogging. He usually rolls his eyes when I read something to him that I think is HIGHlarious or especially witty, and then goes back to whatever (potato-gun) lofty intellectual pursuit he was absorbed in before I interrupted him.
Now, he will occasionally--well, RARELY--post a comment on someone else's blog, and he will even more rarely post something on his OWN site, and generally treats blogs and blogging as a "little hobby" of mine, one that keeps me sane and probably makes me a bit more pleasant for him to live with, so he encourages it. And every blue moon or so, I write something that makes him proud (but I only find that fact out when I accidentally overhear him asking someone else, "Did you read Belinda's post about so-and-so?) We have a pretty good understanding of each other, and our motivations, and our relationship "currency" so to speak: I know what's important to him, and he thinks he knows what's important to me.
Jealousy? Of him admiring other women? Not really. He doesn't do it in a lascivious, "I gotta git me some a' THAT" way, and never does anything in that regard that would make me insecure or leave me questioning my own attractiveness. I'm pretty comfortable with the way that he can express appreciation for a beautiful, smart, or funny woman, and I usually agree and join in--he has good taste, after all. I mean, come on--the man's ideal of the ultimate woman is not Pamela Anderson Lee Rock Hassenpfeffer Whatever, it's Princess Grace, for crying out loud. And by the same token, when he's looking to score points with me, he will rent all of the Mummy movies, with Brendan Fraser and Oded Fehr, who happen to be two of my big celebrity crushes. And he watches along good-spiritedly with me...although now that I think about it, he does spend a good deal of their steamier scenes trying to convince me of a homoerotic affair between the two...but that's all in good fun, right? Sure. My point is, I've never been one of those women who, catching her husband looking at the Victoria's Secret catalog, would feel threatened and say, "Well, maybe Jill Goodacre can come over and check you for ticks and cook your meatloaf," and then burst from the room crying. Just not my style.
So no, the Green-Eyed Monster rarely raises its ugly head 'round this marriage. Untillllll.......MOCHAAAAAAAHHHHH. He commented on her site. He never comments on ANYONE'S site, especially not my "lady blogs," but he commented for HER. And then he kept checking back to see if she has READ and RESPONDED to his comment. And when I email her, asking about possible vacation times next year when we might all do something together, he asks me every 5 minutes, "Did Mocha write you back?" OH--and that's another thing, this calling her "Mocha." Yes, it has become a nom de pen, and yes, it certainly FITS her Mocha-ness. But her name is Kelly, and when she calls on the phone, it's Kelly, and when I talk to her off-blog at all, it's Kelly....unless I'm talking to my husband, who will say, "Who?" Until I am forced to say, "MOCHAHHHH." To which he repeats, with a sly smile, "Oh, Mochaaaaah."
So there's that. Not much in itself, just enough to annoy me. But then, the other night in bed, after I'd got him to proof my latest blog-entry, he read it through, chuckled obligingly, and then said, "You know, that Mocha, she writes some funny stuff."
Can you see where this is going? All of a sudden I'm WIDE awake, antennae UP, eyebrows arched, eyes wide, neck gettin' loose, steam is coming out of my ears a little...and before I can stop it, I hear my own voice saying, "WELL! Maybe you can just read MOCHA'S blog from now on, and maybe IT will give you the inspiration to finally start posting in yours, since I could never get you to do it." I can't do that for too long, though, because I am beyond caucasian, and it makes my neck kinda achey. It looks like this, only up high, where only the Long Arm of Alex could possibly reach it. Not a pretty color combo:So then I began thinking of other implications of this Mocha-flirtation. If I could get Kelly to post on HER blog something about how ignunt it is to have your entire house repainted in your lovely new colors except for that one patch above the pantry where there is still a jarring swath of DARK PURPLE...well, perhaps my husband, upon reading that wisdom falling from La Mocha's caffeine-soaked lips, would actually GET ON THE LADDER AND PAINT THAT SPOT THAT I'VE BEEN ASKING HIM TO FOR THREE MONTHS BECAUSE I CAN'T REACH IT.
Just sayin'. Aw, I trust them both. Just don't think I won't be a-watching if we do go on this joint vacation toghether, the four of us. Not for stolen glances, lingering touches, hidden smiles...OH, NO NO NO! For too much laughing at her JOKES! Gotta nip THAT right in the BUD. NIPIT. IN. THEBUD.
Oh, and what'll I be watching with Margalit? Well. It seems, if you check the comments from the last post, that Alex is just a weeeeeee bit too excited about Margalit's cooking. I'll be having my eye on these exchanges, as well.
I love you guys.