It is midnight and I am writing while listening to the rat a tat tat of gunfire. Gunfire from the video game my husband Adrian is playing. He mutters to himself while he plays, "Finally getting some fucking kills," he says softly.
How does he expect me to sleep through this chaos? At the very least, I should expect to wake up in a PTSD state.
This is my life. I could go sleep on the couch but all I am wearing is a 16 Candles Jake Ryan t-shirt and underwear, Plus, the dogs would follow me and bark at every noise. And, did I mention that we live with my 80 year old mother-in-law?
And, we have been trying to have a baby for five years to no avail. I see people in my job everyday that have multiple kids that they can't take care of. All we want is one. Just one child. We would give that child everything. Just ask our two shih-tzus who are spoiled rotten and loved to distraction. Is it too much to ask for?
I still love Adrian more than ever.
Adrian's hair is thick and black and he blow dries it in the morning arms out, elbows raised like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. His eyes are the color of caramel and he has an endearing way of squinting into the sun with those eyes of his. I tell him to wear sunglasses so he doesn't get crinkles, but he hates being told what to do. Adrian is insanely stubborn like his mother, but soulful and sweet. And, I feel safe when he's near. Feeling safe is a big deal for me. I haven't always felt safe but from the day I met Adrian 21 plus years ago, it was as if he was a warm blanket of comfort. I yearned to be enveloped by it.
Plus, we still have fun. Adrian loves music and concerts almost as much as I do. The other day, a Police song came on the radio and we both sang it as loud as we could in the car in unison like two maniacs.
"I see you sent my letters back. And my LP records and they're all scratched."
Call of Duty game aside (if I ever time travel, the first thing I will do is kill the COD creators), I am a lucky girl. No one else could put up with my nonsense. And I would not want anyone else to have to. I may, despite all my complaining and whining, look back at these years as the best of times.
Am I crazy? Maybe. But remember, this is the world according to me.