“If you could borrow my perspective, you’d see just how amazing he truly is.” My mother used to say this whenever anyone dared to criticize my dad. Their love was something special, a beautiful bond that made flaws seem insignificant.
I firmly believe that everyone should experience such profound love—a connection so powerful that it allows us to overlook imperfections. Take my husband, for instance.
While he has a remarkable talent for locating the TV remote (even when it’s buried deep in the couch), he can never seem to find common household items. “Where’s the flashlight?” he’ll inquire.
“In the utility drawer,” I reply.
“No, it’s not. I checked,” he insists.
So, I reluctantly pause the show, set down my drink, and retrieve the flashlight for him. “Yes, it is.”
“Oh. I didn’t see it.”
This scenario plays out multiple times daily with everything from dish towels to pens.
He seems to believe in magical beings—like the Soap Fairy, who conveniently refills our hand soap dispensers. There’s also the Toilet Paper Fairy who mysteriously replaces empty rolls. Why would my husband do it when these fairies are on duty? He’s convinced they also handle vacuuming, bed-making, and lightbulb-changing.
Here are some of the other quirks I choose to overlook regularly:
- Our bed resembles a war zone—and not the exciting kind. I think he dreams of being a ninja, as he often flails his arms while he sleeps, unintentionally knocking me around. Sorry, honey, but you’ll never be a martial arts master. I’ve resorted to building a fortress of pillows and sleeping as far from him as possible, especially since he has restless leg syndrome. I often wake up convinced there’s an earthquake, only to discover it’s just his leg kicking the mattress.
- Dishes—why is it so hard to put them in the sink? Coffee mugs seem to multiply throughout the house, and empty snack containers litter the coffee table and desk. He can’t seem to manage the two extra steps to place items in the sink or dishwasher. Maybe there’s an invisible barrier guarding it from dirty dishes. Oh wait, I do this too. Never mind.
- Despite being a high school basketball star, he can’t score any points with the laundry. Socks and underwear are strewn around the bedroom and bathroom floor, almost as if they were practicing for a game. I’ve considered putting a scoreboard by the hamper to encourage better habits.
- He once ruined my favorite sweater by washing it with a new pair of jeans, leaving it looking like a sad canvas of blue dye. “I can never do laundry again,” he declared. And he hasn’t. Thankfully, he never complains when I need to rewash clothes I’ve left in the washer too long or when he has to dig through the laundry pile to get dressed.
- His flatulence is legendary. We’re not talking about the occasional toot; I mean an eruption that could register on the Richter scale! Our children have learned to steer clear of him, as the sheer force could knock them over. While I believe everyone should feel at ease in their own home, his farts are so thunderous they even scare the dog. We might need to come up with a new term for his explosive emissions—Fartlosion, anyone?
- And let’s not forget the snoring. The sound resembles a chainsaw, so disruptive that my son has asked to switch rooms because it wakes him up. I have no sympathy for him because I’m the one sharing a bed with a roaring grizzly bear. I buy earplugs in bulk; I’m surprised we haven’t been reported for noise violations.
Of course, I’m not the easiest person to live with either. When I once asked him what I could improve about myself, he simply brought me a cup of coffee (which he brewed) and said, “Nothing. You’re perfect.”
So maybe he truly is perfect—perfect for me.
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Summary
Love often allows us to overlook our partners’ quirks. While my husband has several endearing (and sometimes exasperating) habits, I cherish our unique bond. From his “magical” inability to find household items to his legendary snoring, these imperfections only add to the love story we share.