My husband thinks he’s funny.
He laughs, jokes, smiles, teases, and makes people feel good about the world in general, just by being around.
Remember that show Everybody Loves Raymond? Where Ray Romano plays the good-natured but slightly dopey dad, and is obviously the favorite person in the family, despite being sort of irresponsible and entirely frustrating to his long-suffering wife in every way?
This is my life. Our friends think I’m too hard on him, our kids stick up for him, and even my own parents take his side in most situations.
I don’t find him funny. Not when he’s trying to be, anyway.
When he’s trying to be funny, he’s usually also grabbing at some part of my body, or he’s chasing me down to hug me too close and HE KNOWS I hate that, or he wants to drag me away from whatever it is I’m doing so all my attention is on him.
Plus, I am the funny one. At least give me that. He’s the head of the household with the big important job, all the friends, the doting family, good in math, all sports, remembering things, and is trusted with all sorts of big-deal things like sitting on boards and councils and all that crap. He wants to be the funny one, too?
He has to be the straight man here. The one who can take a joke and a prank, then sit back and shake his head in awe and appreciation of his wife’s razor-sharp wit, keen intellect, and breezy way of getting things done.
He pretty much does this, I guess. He’s a pretty good sport when I yell at him for being a disgusting slob in the bathroom.
He reads everything I write and tells me it’s good, even if it isn’t.
And despite me not really being important professionally, he still thinks what I do at home is more important than anything else.
He asks me to proofread everything he writes.
He laughs at all my jokes. Even the ones that I have to tell him are funny.
He patiently puts up with all my shenanigans.
And at times he does make me laugh.
Especially when he doesn't realize it.