That Man, This Man, My Man

Before I begin, I need to make it clear, I love my man.

I've noticed lately I'm married to this man and not that man. That man was the guy who worked 14 hour days, six days a week from March through October, then worked a steady 12 hours a day the rest of the year. During the spring, summer and early fall, that man came home every night aggravated, tired and occassionally filthy. Filthy because no one was doing his job right and that man dove right in and did the work. I heard from that man on an almost daily basis how the population of customers he dealt with were idiots. After that man's explanation of the idioscy at large, that man promptly fell asleep. Several times during any given evening, that man slept walked out to the back porch for a cigarette, came back in, murmurred something about stupid people and then laid back down.

Weekends were rough as well, as that man was exhausted on Sundays, so not much was accomplished. There were times when our children and I would tip toe past him while he watched his favorite B rated movie for the 1oth time. Later he complained about our stealth movements past him. "It's like you are afraid of me."that man announced. No, but we didn't want to disturb that man. Once as I ran downstairs from the office where I was completing a paper for a graduate course, to start dinner and change the laundry, I heard that man from his perch comment that nothing got done in the house if I didn't do it. As I passed by, I thought, yes in deed.

Now, that man is retired and is replaced by this man. This man who has time on his hands does all the cooking which is wonderful and does chores around the house from March through October. Trees are pruned so branches don't smack him in the face as he mowes the lawn. (I had no such luck in my lawnmowing days...that man never got around to pruning and trimming the trees, bushes or anything else.) The rest of the year, this man sits in the house, hat and coat on because he won't push the theromstate past 60 degrees, no matter how cold outside. This man is looking for work but not too hard and that is OK.

While I absolutely enjoy this man, this man forgets how that man was when he came home. So on the occassion when I come home aggravated, tired, but not filthy, this man will comment about my demeanor. To which I cast eyes upon him and almost comment about how this man has forgotten that man. But being too aggravated and tired, I just sigh. This man enjoys making jokes and while that man was too exhausted to talk while the news was on, this man is a chatterbox. I don't like chatterboxes during the news. This man for some reason needs to know where I am at all times. If I leave the room to do my business, upon my return I will hear from this man, "So what's you doing?" Hmmm, do I really need to answer that? In fact, as I sit writing this blog, this man came into the office, "So, what's you doing?" Hmmm, I won't answer that. As he walked out, this man lamented "You always ignore me." No, this man, I just enjoy writing sometimes and it's a solitary activity.. . especially writing about this man.

But be he that man or this man, he is my man and I love him. He is a man of honor and integrity. He loves his family, cares for them deeply, wants them to pursue their dreams and he is their number one fan...he is my man.