June 25, 2015

I Told My Wife to “Be Less Weird.” This is Why:

Weird woman new agey

Author’s Note: This letter is penned by mwah (me!), through the eyes of my husband. This is how he would express himself if he were creatively brilliant (like me!) at the whole writing thing.

Dearest Wifey,

It’s been four months since your last confessionFour months since your open, frank and very amusing (you are quite witty!) letter to me went public on elephant journal.

I know you expected me to retaliate quickly.

Oh, sweetie, how long have we been together? You should know me better than that!

I like the element of surprise. I knew that the more time that passed, the more secure you would feel. Lulled into a false sense of security; believing I had forgotten all about the little incident.

Oh no, my love, not by a long shot!

First up, I’d like to address some of the findings, themes and recommendations (yes, the analyst in me is coming out) generated by the publicity:

High-five on the viral nature of your wildly successful letter. Care to make a wager that mine will do just as well, if not better, than yours? A little friendly competition between spouses never hurts.

Airing your grievances in a public forum: what an excellent way to get my attention. I’m very proud of your resourcefulness.

Marriage proposals. Huh! I guess it doesn’t hurt to have a backup plan. I’d better get working on mine. Maybe I’ll reach out to Katy Perry’s management team, see how she’s doing.  

Divorce outcries. We did have a good chuckle over this one, didn’t we? I can’t say I’m in the market for a divorce. You are the love of my life. However, for public record, if things ever do go south: You get the dog and the dollars. I get the debt. That’s just the kind of (awesome) guy that I am.

Now to the heart of the matter: There is good reason why the phrase “be less weird!” is liberally used (by me) in our household.

You do weird sh*t all the time!

That list of yours in the letter was just the tip of the iceberg. 

You want to know the benefit of waiting awhile before replying? More ammunition! I don’t think I will ever run out of material:

Mercury in Retrograde. At least there is some actual science behind this one, but I’m not too sure about your interpretation of it. There has been a bit too much “Oh, Mercury!” and “The Universe’s energetic interference is at work today!” uttered around the house of late. Sweetie, you can’t blame poor old Mercury for all your communication and technology problems. Especially now that Mercury has straightened out and is no longer in retrograde (your words, not mine!).

You keep seeing the number 11 everywhere you go, particularly when you look at the clock, which apparently means there is major cosmic manifestation at work. That’s seriously trippy sh*t. Cosmic manifestations aside, it’s time to ‘fess up about the frequency with which you see the number 11. It can’t all be down to “being in tune with the Universe,” as you call it. C’mon, admit it Hun: you set your alarm for 10 minutes past the hour. Then you just ‘happen’ to be looking at a clock when it ticks over, at which point you exclaim, “Wow, I keep seeing the number 11 everywhere!” I’m right, aren’t I?

Drinking crystal infused water. You haven’t done this. Yet. But you’ve mentioned it a couple of times so it’s only a matter of when, not if, I get handed a glass of pretty coloured rocks in water. At least I know what to look out for; you have shown your hand with this one. Unless…wait a minute…you leave the rocks in the water, right? You don’t infuse and then remove? Aargh!! Now you’re just messing with my head!

I’ve saved your latest, greatest “be less weird!” moment for last. I think it just might edge out the moonlight-charging-crystal stuff, which was pretty out there.

For the past month or so, you have been absorbed in a creative arts project every evening.

Ok, babe, I have to call it like it is: You’ve been coloring

With an actual coloring book and coloring pencils!

You were so calm and matter-of-fact when I enquired about what you were doing. Anti-stress, mindfulness art therapy for adults, you called it.

I think I’ve seen/heard it all now.

I thought coloring was for children and their parents. I figured we had a few more years before I’d start to see coloring paraphernalia strewn about the house. I mean, as much as he would love to join in your coloring fun, our fur-baby lacks the opposable thumbs to make that possible. The best I’ve been able to get him to do is an ink paw print on your Mother’s Day card.

I can’t wait to see what you come up with next. Life is certainly never boring with you in my corner!

Never change my little weirdo.

Yours. Always. Xx

PS. I farted on your pillow. Let this be the last time we air our marital discussions in a public forum.


Author: Bree Hogan

Editor: Caroline Beaton

Image: Flickr



My Husband told me to “Be Less Weird.” My Response:

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