The man behind the crazy lady.
As I was watching Batman, The Dark Knight Rises the other night, I had an epiphany. Being married is like knowing who Bruce Wayne really is. All the citizens of Gotham think Bruce Wayne is just some hot billionaire but little do they know he enjoys dressing in tights, wearing a cape and hanging out with wack-jobs in his free time.
Before you get married, you have this glorified vision of what being married is like. Your positive you know who you are married to and will never be surprised by them. But when you get hitched, they surprise the shit out of you! Sometimes in a good way, and sometimes in ways that make your mouth drop. Therefore, in part two of this blog I want my readers to learn about Boy Ryan and to do this, I think its best to share the things I have learned about Boy Ryan since being married to him.
Now, before I embarrass the shit out of him and reveal the things that he told me strictly not to talk about, let me tell you the stuff he would want to me to say about him.
Boy Ryan is from Virginia, grew up in a decently well off family with good morals and values. He had a typical catholic upbringing, was a super-star jock and is ridiculously good looking. He is a sensitive, quiet guy that is incredibly intelligent. He is very traditional, but bends over backwards for Addison and I. Boy Ryan is very private about his life, let me repeat that, he is VERY private about his life, feelings and accomplishments which makes him a humble person. He is exactly what we would call, an All-American Boy.
So, WHO IS THAT BOY RYAN-REALLY?
A Hypocrite Germ-A-Phobe . BRyan is a self proclaimed germ-a-phobe. He constantly overcooks his meat (for fear of food poisoning) will not touch the dogs without washing his hands (because dogs are dirty) and is a “clean-car” Nazi (if you leave a gum wrapper in his car, you will hear about it). 
However, Boy Ryan missed in important lesson in being a germ-a-phobe; your personal hygiene must be part of your rituals. It was about a year into our marriage I started to notice that he would wear the same pair of underwear 2-4 days in a row. Now, I assume he was trying to save me some extra loads of laundry (very sweet) but because I sleep in the same bed as him, I found this a bit disgusting. I explained to him that you can’t be a germ-a-phobe and re-wear your underwear. It completely contradicts the point and he must pick one personality; Anti-Germ Gerry or Dirty Boy Bob.
A-Don’t Rush Me-Pooper. Boy Ryan is a shitter (excuse my blunt statement). When he has to go, he HAS to go. Just to put this in perspective, at one point during our relationship, I caught him shitting in the backyard (all the bathrooms in the house were occupied). Have you ever looked out of your window to find your boyfriend crouched like a dog doing his business in someone else’s backyard? I’m guessing no. But the important lesson that I learned is from the “Dinner Party Incident”. Ryan of course, decides he has to go to the bathroom, promising that he will be quick. I waited patiently for 2 minutes and knocked on the door to tell him to hurry up. The next thing I know I hear a loud bang and open the door to find him, pants around the ankles, passed out on the bathroom floor. I panicked and woke him up to tell him I was going to call 911. I even offered to wipe his ass before the ambulance came. (sometimes you say things in the moment). He said he was ok and that it was unnecessary to call the ambulance, this sort of thing happens all the time.
Elvis Says, “Only Fools Rush In”
Now, I’m sure if Elvis Presley were present at that moment, he would of disagreed. After all, the man died on the toilet, but I still thought it was important that he should go to the ER. Till this day I feel responsible for rushing him but it was a lesson learned; Never Rush a Shitter or you might be offering to wipe their ass.
A Man Who Fears Balding. There comes a time in every male’s life in which they must face the truth that their hair is diminishing. I think it’s an anxiety similar to women’s fear of getting fat. Ryan has started to realize this and has dealt with the issue head-on. He has started to purchase mass amounts of hair spray so he can “style” his bald spot. He is very particular about his hair and won’t let me within 2 inches of his head (god forbid I mess it up). He even hides his hairspray bottles and goes into a different bathroom to style it, as if he is trying to hide the fact he is going bald. I try and suggest things like buying Rogaine or getting hair plugs, but he gets defensive and says, “O, so you DO think I am going bald?”. I assume this is how guys feel when girls pull out the “I am so fat” card. I feel your pain boys, I get it now. The best advice I can give him now came from a shirt, “Keep Calm and Bald On”.
A Man With A Secret Alter-Ego. My husband has an alter ego when he hangs out with Jack Daniels. When he drinks with Jim Beam or Johnny Walker, it’s fine, but Jack is the worst. Let me explain a little further; he always takes off his shirt, pees on everything and has even spent an entire concert in “concert jail”. But the best example of Boy Ryan’s alter ego was the night after our rehearsal dinner. There had been quite a party with all of our friends and when we had gotten home, Boy Ryan realized he had forgotten the keys to our apartment. My friend and I suggested calling the cab and getting a ride back to my parents place to spend the night, but Boy Ryan’s alter ego
A picture of the
Alter-Ego
insisted he would find a way in because after all, he starts to believe, “He is the Most Interesting Man in the World”. I waited by the door hoping that he would realize there was no way into the apartment but was shocked to see him open the front door smiling (that “I am so smart” smile). That night I went right to sleep and didn’t think anything of it. I woke up the next morning to two people chatting, LOUDLY, outside:
Nosy person #1: “Wow, we should call the cops. It looks like someone broke into this apartment!”
Nosy person #2: “Yea, let’s go call, I’m sure the tenants would be happy that someone called the cops for them.”
It suddenly hit me, Boy Ryan’s alter ego had busted the window to break in and unlock the door to our apartment.
I won’t even go into the explanation I had to give to get us out of that one.
The Worst at Hiding Secrets. Men need to learn that Women are smart. Men can’t hide anything and get away with it. We notice everything, I mean everything especially if you have a shared bank account. So when our 2 year anniversary came around, I looked on our bank statement (to snoop) and found a purchase for a jewelry store on our card. I got so excited and went out to buy Boy Ryan an equally nice anniversary gift. He had mentioned that weekend he was taking me on a “surprise”. We found ourselves at a cute little Bed and Breakfast for the weekend. All weekend he had planned activites and dinners for us to celebrate our anniversary, but never gave me my anniversary present. So on our drive home, after I had given him his gift, I found myself disappointed that he hadn’t given me the jewelry (what was he waiting for?!). My mind starting to go to crazy places and I was reminded of the many Lifetime Movies I had watched that month. I know what it means when a man buys jewelry but doesn’t give it to you. He must be giving it to SOMEONE ELSE! Then I thought a little deeper…How could he possibly have a girlfriend? How would he have time? With his clothing choice…who would want to date him?! How dare he!
I sat the whole ride home in silence and got angrier as the hours passed.
Boy Ryan: “Are you ok? You seem a little mad?”
Me: “No, not me. I’m not mad, what COULD I POSSBILY BE MAD ABOUT?!”
Boy Ryan: “Wow, ok? You must be hungry then. I’ll stop for food.”
Me: “No, but I do want to know who SHE IS!”
Boy Ryan: “Who’s who? She? Whose she?”
Me: “You bought HER jewelry, I saw on OUR bank statement.”
Boy Ryan: “O, About that…yea. Um, I lost my wedding ring last weekend and I didn’t want to make you mad so I bought the same exact wedding ring from the same exact store. I thought you wouldn’t notice…I guess I should of mentioned something…”
Yes, correct Boy Ryan you should have mentioned something. Guys, if you buy jewelry and don’t give it to your girlfriends, our minds do go to these thoughts, we are all products of Lifetime Movies.
A Brand-Name Virgin. One of my fantasies about being married used to be that I could shop for my husband and dress him in nice clothes, but unfortunately I married Boy Ryan. Boy Ryan is what I consider a, “Never Grow Up Dresser”. He constantly wants to wear sport-team shirts, ripped
No, Means No!
shirts and high-water jeans. He also refuses to wear certain brands. Some to name are; Express Men, H&M and (my personal favorite) Calvin Klein. These brands to him are “Gay” and “Fruity”. Now, let me explain what I have to go through to get away with buying him clothes from the stores listed above: I have to strategically get rid of the bags/tags or any evidence related to the brand name. Sometimes if I am lucky, he will accept the outfit and not look too hard at the shirt tag to see where it’s from. If he does notice where it came from, I have to tell him that it was on clearance and I couldn’t pass up the sale price and then he MIGHT accept the brand.
The shit I go through to make sure that husband looks hot…poor me.
There. Now that you all know about Boy Ryan, you can decide for yourself what you think of him.
If he reads this and decides to file for divorce, then I guess that shall be my next topic.
That Girl Ryan 