Shoot my Christian Husband Says

BY VICTORIA DAVIS | STAFF WRITER

Let’s be honest, no matter how good the worship is in chapel, every girl is still going to notice that one perfect and flawless hottie who raised his hands-yes, raised his hands-during chapel. You know, that one guy you said, “Hi” to once; the one with the incredible eyes and smile that makes Josh Hutcherson look like a squinting oompa-loompa (sorry Peeta, I’m sure you make nice bread); The one man you just know would make the perfect Christian husband. Ever wondered what that would be like? Married to your Christian college crush? Well, I’ve been married to mine for about 8 months. Let me take you into a day-in-the-life of your dreams, with just a pinch of reality.

7:00 a.m. – You are sound asleep, most likely dreaming of sugar plums and fairies, or other things unrelated to your homework for psych class. All is calm, all is quiet. Then, suddenly, “boop,” nudge. Then again, “boop,” nudge.

“Wha-what?” you manage to say as you force yourself awake. There, looming over you, is your darling husband poking you in the nose. Your, normally adored, love begins to resemble that alarm you set for an hour from now; something to be silenced and destroyed.

“Booop!” he says again, poking your only half-awake face.

“What are you doing?” You say, eyes red partly with fury but mostly from sleeping with your mascara on.

“I wanted to do something cute, so I ‘booped’ you.”

This is the beginning of your morning, alarm clock not included.

9:00 a.m. – It’s a glorious Sunday morning of Netflix and hot breakfasts. After church, of course. You fling yourself onto the couch, turn on the TV, and begin scrolling through movie options. As you search, your husband starts on the omelets. Yes, he can cook. A man in the kitchen is a marvelous catch. Your cooking Christian husband begins assembling all the necessary ingredients. He pulls out the cheese you bought on your last trip to the grocery store. This is not the gourmet block cheese. It’s the delectable individually sliced and wrapped cheese. Your dearest love gracefully pops a slice into his mouth. Just before he places the first slice on your omelet, he stops.

“Ugh…” he says in disgust.

You turn from the TV to look at him. Your husband looks like a child who has eaten dark chocolate for the first time, or anyone after trying black licorice. “What’s wrong?” you ask.

“I can taste the robot claws that made this cheese,” he says with a grimace.

“Oh, come on. I loved that stuff as a kid,” you try assuring him.

“Great,” he says. “I’ll just save the rest for our future children. This pack has at least ten more years till expiration.”

How sweet is he? Already providing for your future little ones.

1:00 p.m.- You’ve been studying, writing, and staring at canvas for nearly two hours. It’s time for a break. Once again, you flop like a raggedy-ann doll onto the couch next to your husband. He’s playing some game you’ve never heard of on the Xbox. Call of Snoopy, was it? Mall of Duty? Oh well. “Want to watch a movie?” you suggest.

“Anything for you,” he says, totally sincere. You decide on the Emperor’s New Groove because anyone who has ever watched Disney Channel knows it’s a classic. Halfway into the movie, as you and your husband are “leaving room for Jesus” on the couch, a scene featuring a dazed chameleon appears on the screen. As the confused creature slurps a bug, your intellectual hubby makes a critical conclusion.

“That’s you!” he declares.

You’re touched. Your husband is so observant of your ability to adapt to your surroundings and your diet of protein intake.

4:00 p.m. – Around this time you’ve probably finished your homework (not likely but we can dream). It’s now time to check your calendar, bills, and event planner to make sure everything is up-to-date. The excitement is real, ladies. You flip through the pages till you come find a section highlighted, red-marked, and accented with numerous exclamation points: the mother-in-law’s birthday. What’s the big deal? The magic that is Facebook birthday calendar should remember for you, right? Wrong. She doesn’t have her birthday listed on Facebook. Oh, the madness! You quickly jump to your feet and run to the living room where your perfectly serene Christian husband is playing Candy Crush on his phone. His talents never cease to amaze you.

“Babe! Your mom’s birthday is tomorrow! You ordered that edible arrangement, right?” The key to any women’s heart is, and always will be, food.

He looks up and says, “Hun, I may not be an elephant, but I’m not a goldfish either.”

You stare at him, not knowing what to make of this statement. It’s so true though. We can’t all hope to be elephants. #goals.

7:00 p.m. – You have just finished a delectable and scrumptious pasta bowl, once again made by your cooking Christian husband. If it wasn’t for him, chances are you would either starve or live off pop tarts. Actually, the second option doesn’t sound too bad now that you think about it. Anyway, now that dinner has been ravenously consumed, you and your dearest love engage in catch-up conversation about each other’s past week at school and at work. You begin telling him about your theatre class. “So last Friday,” you begin, “we did this group exercise where the teacher took eight volunteers with four on each side…”

“Like a firing squad, yes. Go on,” he interrupts, as if that’s a completely normal thing to add to the end of one’s sentence.

What do you even say to that? Men really are from mars, aren’t they?

10:00 p.m. – Yes, I know it’s only ten, but you are an old married couple. This is the time for sleeping. It’s been a long day of reading, studying, and the works. You know that a full day of school is only eight short hours away. You lay your head on fresh, cool sheets and close your eyes. Cozy, peaceful sleep begins to fall upon you. Suddenly, your considerate Christian husband leaps, not sits or lays but leaps, onto the bed and “jumper cables” (tickles) you! Your eyes fly open and you jump two feet off the bed. You are now confused, alarmed, and a little panicked. You whip your head around and stare in disbelief at your ever so compassionate husband who is about to fall off the bed from laughter.

“Why? Why would you do that?” You demand an answer that only might save his life.

He replies mischievously, “It’s never a good time for a tickle, so I tickle you always!”

Well, you can’t argue with logic folks. You push him the rest of the way off the bed and your Christian husband survives another day. Although he may be strange, you love your dream-guy all the same.

The End…for today.