***I must begin this blog with a huge disclaimer: Josh told me to write about this. So let’s all agree together that we will be laughing WITH Josh and April and not AT them.
In the fabric of our collective history there are some threads that shine more brightly than others. Beloved moments and tender memories are the pretty pastels. Mistakes, sorrows and pains are dark colors. Blunders, gaffes, and faux pas are also part of the fabric of my history with Josh. For example, my family has a knack for quoting movie lines. We can’t remember our own phone numbers, but we can quote everything from Woody Allen to Pee Wee Herman. My husband, on the other hand, has the antithesis of this gift. He messes up EVERY line he tries to quote… and he makes it 100x funnier! And I love him for that.
Another one of the funny stories that makes up the history of our relationship involves a Seinfeld episode. It’s the episode where Elaine has forbidden her assistant Anna to flirt with George and tells her that he’s a “bad seed”. This piques Anna’s interest in the short, balding man. Jerry figures it’s because Elaine has made George “The Bad Boy” and Anna is into Bad Boys. George is confused because he’s never been the Bad Boy. “Why not?!” Jerry encourages him “You’ve been the bad employee, the bad son, the bad friend (yes, yes, agrees George) the bad fiancé, the bad dinner guest, the bad credit risk (OK the point is made!) the bad date, the bad sport, the bad citizen (George stands to leave) THE BAD TIPPER!!” Jerry chimes. (Here’s the clip though you might have to go directly to youtube to watch it.)
This scene rolls me into hysterics every time I watch it. A few years ago Josh asked me why. I finally confessed that before we met, I had a “thing” for the Bad Boy image. Clearly, at some point I chose safe and responsible over unpredictable and… fun. Josh was shocked! And not for the reason that I suspected. “But I AM a Bad Boy, aren’t I?” he queried. This coming from the man who thought about being a banker before he became a minister. After laughing until tears rolled down my cheeks. I said, “If you don’t believe me, ask your friends what they think of you. They will tell you the truth.”
So a few days later Josh came to me sheepishly and confessed that he had told his friend Peter about our conversation. He had asked, “Peter, am I a Bad Boy?” (I’m giggling as I write this.) And Peter shook his head slowly, “Oh Joshy, you’re a Good Boy.” So there, Josh had the truth. He was not a Bad Boy after all.
But Josh was not willing to admit defeat. So to augment his new Bad Boy image, my husband refuses to shave more than once a week. When I complain that he’s getting prickly he says proudly, “It’s part of my Bad Boy image.” And why not, we’re all entitled to our own dreams.
Monkeys in My Bag 