Including friendship, dating, engagement, and marriage my husband and I have been together for ten years. In those ten years, it has always been one of his secret missions to see exactly how crazy he can make me. At first, he thought it would be easy because I'm already half crazy. But I'm also crazy adaptable. I'm like an adapting ninja. Plus, I was raised in a Southern Christian household and I know how to push the bad feelings way deep down inside where they are ignored for years, creating ulcers and random outbursts of anger.
He started in college with the hard core Drive Megan Insane campaign. First, he would invite me over and every drawer would be closed crooked and the closet would be open and there would be random piles of detritus scattered around the piles of his clothing. He knew that all of these things were triggers for my crazy. But he was a little too obvious. I could see what he was doing, and damned if I'd let him win. Plus, dude, its your room. I'm crazy, and if this were in MY dorm I'd kill you, but whatever, do what you want in your own room. Megan 1, Future Husband 0.
I mistakenly let him discover my issue with feet. Namely: mine, do not touch them. No, really. I see you looking at my feet. Do not touch. He thought it was clever to grab me by the foot and pretend to try to lick my toes until he got kicked in the face. Megan 2, Future Husband 0.
When we moved in together and it became apparent that the man could not cook for shit (sorry, honey, overcooked pasta with uncooked spaghetti sauce dumped on it is not cooking) I began cooking. He saw the potential for a new assault on my sanity: he didn't want to eat whatever I cooked, even if he had requested it at the beginning of the evening. "I had Mexican for lunch" and "That sounds horrible" and "I want something light" or "I want something hearty". Cooking strike! Guess you are eating frozen burritos and hamburger helper from here on out. He caved in less than a week. Megan 3, Future Husband 0.
There've been various other, unsuccessful attempts. But this week he might have found the perfect plan. The plan I cannot combat. He has suddenly decided that he needs to watch t.v. with the volume on, listen to music on his iPhone without headphones, and have a conversation with me all at the same time. Its like being trapped in a schizophrenic's brain. You know its not normal or right, but you can't make it stop and you can't ignore it. When I leave the room I can STILL HEAR IT.
If we have to do this again tonight, there's a good chance I will rip my own eardrums out in order to get a little peace.