I’m married to a wonderful man. I call him Studly Doright on this blog for good reason. He’s a man’s man kind of guy. Physically stong, mentally stalwart, with a firm sense of right and wrong.
He’s also rigidly entrenched in his habits. He gets up at a certain time. Goes to bed by 9. Eats only certain foods. Drinks an occasional American beer. Watches mainstream tv and movies.
So when I came into the den after my evening shower to find him watching a French film, The Confession, complete with subtitles, I immediately grabbed a thermometer (oral) from the medicine cabinet and firmly instructed him to open wide.
I fully expected to discover he had a raging fever and was subsequently suffering from hallucinations.
“Well, you’re fine,” I said. “Why are you watching this?”
His reply, “The words got to me.”
I love this man, and after 40 years of marriage he can still surprise me.