#in a 16 hour movie you definitely can do a 10 second pan shot or a couple still frames of text giving some additional context or something

[hotpinkcyanmillie]

probably not going to watch the new dr strangelove anytime soon here but god “I heard this movie I didn’t watch does something wrong so I’m not gonna watch it and assume it’s propaganda” sure is a fun microcosm of the way people online and especially tumblr talk about media

[sirfrogsworth]

Weird motion artifacts are unfortunately just a symptom of modern display technology. Older technologies like CRT and Plasma would sort of fade to black before refreshing the screen and so motion looked smooth to our brains. Our eyes need that little fade to trick them into thinking a series of really fast static images are actually showing motion. Modern displays don't have that fade so they very suddenly refresh the screen and it causes something called judder. You can see it in panning shots especially. A sort of jerky motion. I don't know if that is what you were noticing though.

It is much less noticeable at higher frame rates, so games tend to look okay, but much worse at lower frame rates, so movies can suffer. They are trying to figure this out, but no modern display does it perfectly. The only solution is to dial in the soap opera effect through motion smoothing and try to find an amount where you can tolerate it.

Pixel resolution can be confusing because they mix Ks with Ps. So you have...

1920x1080 which is 1080p or 2K or FHD. 2560x1440 which is 1440p or 2.5K or QHD. 3840x2160 which is 2160p or 4K or UHD.

If the aspect ratio is different from 16:9 those numbers might shift a bit. But the K is the first dimension (horizontal) and the P is the second (vertical).

I would not run an OLED screen with a static image all day. I would set up a screen saver or a timer to turn it off when you are not using it. You could run an anti-burn-in video more often, but then you are going to reduce the life of your screen.

Like I said, managing an OLED can be a hassle, but if you know what to avoid and do regular maintenance, you can avoid burn-in. You can see when image retention starts to set in, so usually you can address it before it is permanent. However, if we are talking all day use, I would use your current screen for general computer stuff and only use the OLED as a secondary screen for movies and games and stuff.

There is an LTT video about daily driving an OLED as a computer monitor. If you are using it 8 to 10 hours per day with no breaks, it sounds like it would not be a good fit. Keep in mind this was basically the first OLED computer monitor and new displays will not have as many bugs as they experienced.

HDR brightness and the brightness you set your screen to are different things. One is peak brightness and the other is more of a median brightness. When watching an HDR movie, it will be mastered to only make bright things bright. So lightsabers and lasers and headlights. The average brightness of the overall movie will feel about the same as whatever you set the display's master brightness setting to. So you want those extra nits for movies and games, but you don't have to set the display's brightness setting to eye-searing levels to experience it. Hopefully that makes sense. That is a little confusing and I should have been more clear.

Yes, OLEDs are capable of showing better detail in dark scenes. But it sounds like you actually have a calibration issue. Your black point is probably not set at the right spot. A lot of games will have a little calibration feature built in, but RTINGS also has a guide with some patterns you can download to help fix your brightness and contrast levels. That could help you see dark detail better with your current display. You can also look into calibration devices like the Datacolor Spyder. This will fix brightness, contrast, as well as color accuracy to industry standards. It can also take into account the brightness of the room. The base model is pretty easy to use. Just follow the onscreen instructions.

You actually have a really nice monitor currently. Getting another IPS display would probably not give you a much different experience unless you got a really expensive one. I would definitely look into calibration before getting anything new.

Or I would consider getting a secondary display for movies and games. In fact, you might find an actual television a better solution. They can be used as computer monitors as well. I wouldn't use them for regular tasks like web browsing or general computing, but for movies and games, a TV can be a great solution. You can get an OLED, but just a regular LED panel with a bunch of backlight zones would be great too.

And I'm afraid the pictures you take with your phone are more dependent on the camera's sensor than the display you view them on. So you can only solve that problem with image editing or a new camera.

Computer q. For otherwise identical monitors, is a 4000:1 contrast ratio noticeably better from 1000:1? I don't mean for fancy art but like if I'm watching a movie, could I see the difference in a dark scene? I looked into oled's, but those are expensive and I think the way I use my stuff would cause burn in.

I hope you don't mind, but I got carried away and answered pretty much every computer monitor question anyone has ever had. And since this turned into a whole thing, I thought I'd share it for everyone to benefit.

For a computer monitor I would say the most important aspect is actually the viewing angle. This is how far off-axis you can look at the monitor before the image degrades.

We sit very close to our displays and at that distance, even a change in height in your chair can affect the image. Move a little bit left or right and a cheap display could completely wash out and look terrible. And if you get a display that is 27" or above, even if you sit dead center, the edges of the screen will appear dark and washed out with a bad viewing angle.

The two best display technologies to get a good viewing angle are IPS (in-plane switching) and OLED. If you are interested in a display without these technologies, be sure it has a decent viewing angle. You can read more about viewing angles here and here.

IPS has very little concern for burn-in, but it is still a concern with OLED. In recent years OLED has greatly improved and image retention and burn-in can be avoided with regular maintenance. Displays will have pixel shift features and noise modes that work out all the pixels evenly. You can run these features every once in a while to prevent burn-in. You can also play special anti-burn-in videos on YouTube (full screen) to exercise the pixels to uniformity.

So if you don't mind the hassle, you can manage an OLED with low risk.

That said, OLED was almost exclusively for TVs and has only recently been introduced for computer displays. The current options are quite large and fairly expensive, as you alluded to. So if you are trying to stay within a budget, it might be best to seek out an IPS display.

Another consideration is resolution. Everyone is obsessed with everything being 4K now. But I think increasing the resolution brings diminishing returns with regard to increased detail you can actually notice. So if you don't mind going with a 1440p monitor (about 2.5K), you can save some money on resolution and get higher quality in more noticeable areas. Personally, I feel 1440p gives you a nice, noticeable bump in detail over 1080p. Whereas going from 1440p to 4K (2160p) is less noticeable unless you have very good vision.

Another benefit to 1440p is that video games are much easier to run on high quality settings with a reasonable GPU. And you can use technologies like super sampling (Nvidia calls this DLSS) to increase the detail you may lose from not going 4K.

The only concern I'd have with not going 4K is if you edit 4K video. It will be difficult to do a pixel level analysis of your footage otherwise. But other than that, you can still watch 4K content on a 1440p monitor and because it is being downsampled, you will still notice a nice bump in detail.

So if you don't have a reason to get a 4K display, I think 1440p is worth considering.

The next concern would be color. Or color gamut. This is how many colors the display can accurately reproduce. If you don't do any art or video color grading, you'll at least want something that does 95 to 100% of sRGB. That is the color space the entire internet uses. And if you are going to be watching HDR movies, you might want a display with a decent percentage of the P3 color space as well. Doesn't need to be 100%, but the higher the better. And for those who do art, a good percentage of Adobe RGB is recommended.

Also, many manufacturers offer displays that come pre-calibrated from the factory. If color accuracy is important, I would seek out one of these displays with a Delta E rating of 3 or less (lower is better).

A newer factor in displays is peak brightness. This is measured in "nits." In standard dynamic range (SDR), video only needed to reach 100 nits. Most HDR content is mastered to reach 1000 nits. In the future, that number will be 4000. And if micro LED technology ever becomes affordable, we may go up to 10,000 nits. But almost everything is around 1000 at the moment, so that is a good number to shoot for.

HOWEVER, because HDR is tone mapped (the brightness of your display is factored in and the content is adjusted accordingly), you can still get some benefits of HDR, even if you cannot do the full 1000 nits.

All monitors can do 100 nits for SDR content. But with more things being displayed in HDR, having more nits will give you a better experience. This does not mean your display will blind you. Usually bright stuff only takes up a small portion of the screen. But having more nits allows highlights to really pop and feel immersive. A lightsaber might actually feel hot and dangerous on a bright enough screen.

Computer displays are often rated as HDR400 or HDR600 or HDR1000 based on their nits. The HDR400 isn't great for HDR content. If you can do 600 or above within your budget, you'll get a better experience. If you are going to watch movies, this may be a feature you prioritize.

I know you mentioned contrast ratio, but I'm afraid that is a little complicated to answer. It can depend on other aspects of the monitor and the viewing environment. So I'll try to give you the info you need to figure out if the display you select will suit your needs.

Manufacturers can use tricks to fudge their contrast ratio in product descriptions, so it is best to go to an independent review website like RTINGS to see what they measured. (They do good TV and monitor reviews too.) You'll see that OLED displays are said to have "infinite" contrast ratio, due to being able to turn off pixels completely. Which means it is probably time to move to a new metric because that gives very little info on the dynamic range of the display (the difference between the darkest and brightest thing it can show).

You definitely want a decent contrast ratio for your display, but this can be subjective. If you have a nice bright screen, your brain may feel the contrast is fantastic, even if the actual darkest black point of the monitor isn't great. If something is really bright, then dark things will *seem* darker by comparison. And if you are viewing in a dark environment, the contrast will look even better. So this is where seeking out a professional reviewer's experience of the monitor can be helpful. One monitor's 4000:1 ratio might be a different experience than another with the same measurement.

Because TVs are generally larger and can have more backlighting zones, they can get decent black levels without OLED. But smaller computer displays have more difficulty in reasonable price ranges. So manage your black level expectations if you go with an affordable IPS display. They can get bright, but they aren't great at blacks like OLED. I'm afraid that is just a limitation of the tech. In fact, getting a brighter display might be preferable to a better contrast ratio. And it will be easier to see if you are in a bright environment.

Most IPS displays are going to be between 1000:1 and 5000:1 and while it does make a difference, if you sit it next to an old plasma or an OLED, you're going to be disappointed. So I would not make contrast ratio a super high priority with IPS, because non-OLED computer displays just aren't going to give you inky blacks. I would say 2000:1 or better is going to give you a decent experience. But, again, I would seek out reviews rather than trust the official product specs when it comes to the quality of the blacks.

And one final consideration you may want to factor in is the refresh rate. This is mostly for gaming. Most displays will give you at least 60 Hz or 60 "refreshes" per second. Gamers tend to like 120 Hz or higher. This won't affect movie watching very much as nearly everything except Gemini Man is 24 fps.

TLDR overview...

Get an IPS or OLED display for a good viewing angle. I personally feel this is the most important feature.

Choose a resolution. 1440p can allow you to increase quality in other areas to maximize your budget. Only get 4K if you have a legit reason or you have fighter pilot vision.

Color gamut or number of colors. Try to get 100% of sRGB for web content, 90% or above of Adobe RGB for art/photography, and 90% or above of P3 for HDR movies and video editing.

If color accuracy is important, look for pre-calibrated displays that have a Delta E of 3 or less. (Lower is better)

HDR brightness. If you want to experience good HDR, you'll want the brightest screen possible (measured in nits). HDR600 or HDR1000 are great. If you don't care about HDR, then don't worry about the rating.

Contrast ratio and black levels. It's going to be meh on pretty much anything but OLED. 2000:1 or better is a good goal to shoot for, but be sure to check independent reviews for the subjective experience of the black levels. Dark viewing environments help too.

Refresh rate. 60 Hz is fine for most things. Gamers prefer 120 Hz or faster. And if you are a competitive gamer, you may want to seek out more info on "variable refresh rate" and "pixel response time."

Pick the variables above that seem most important to you and then seek out a display that does those things decently within your budget.

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Strawberry Cream and BBQ - 9

Pairing: Hybrid Hoseok and Human Reader

Overview: Your best friend knows she can count on you for anything, so when she asks you to watch her hybrid while she’s gone for a study abroad trip for four months, you can’t say no. But when these four months are over, things have changed in a way no one expected.

Word Count: 2,597

Genre: Hybrid AU, Fluff, Future smut, Angst, Best friends to Lovers

Warning: Some light swearing.

Master List

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20 - Part 21 - Part 22 - Part 23 - Part 24 - Part 25 (Final) - Move in Day: A SC&BBQ Drabble

©thatmultifandomhoe Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

Hoseok pressed his lips together as he stared down at your sleeping form on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. He really shouldn’t be all that surprised, but there you were. After the two of you came home from the Dance Studio, neither of you wanted to do anything that required more than minimum effort. That was obviously code for Netflix and pass out on the couch.

It was two in the morning when his own head started to fall backwards and somehow, you were still awake and even managed to help him into bed. He must have been more exhausted than he realized because he never went to bed without making sure you went to sleep first, a habit he’s had for God knows how long. It was done with your comfort in mind, because if Hoseok was being completely honest, you slept in the weirdest positions of all time.

Like right now.

You were on your side facing the cushion, legs curled up to your chest and your left arm was resting on your stomach. So far, a normal position. But your right arm was over your head and bent at the elbow over your face, like you were protecting yourself in your sleep. It was the most uncomfortable position he had ever seen someone sleep in and with living in a shelter for year, he saw some interesting positions.

“Oh Strawberry,” Hoseok murmured, lightly shaking his head at you. With extremely careful movements, he managed to bring your arms down to your sides, allowing him to slip an arm under your knees and the other behind your back to carry you. The moment you were settled in his arms, you shifted, forcing him to hold his breath. He didn’t want you to wake up, it was early – nine in the morning – and knew you would complain about being awake before your alarm went off. Instead however, your fingers grabbed a hold of his shirt and you curled closer to him, sighing.

He smiled at the action, his tail wagging as he walked the short distance to your bedroom to deposit you under the warmth of the million blankets you tended to sleep under. His face turned into one of longing, watching as you burrowed under your blankets. There was nothing he wanted more than to get in on the other side and fall back asleep with you safely in his arms. But he held himself back. Instead, once positive you wouldn’t wake up for another hour, he tip-toed out and quietly closed the bedroom door, not relaxing until he was in the kitchen of your small apartment.

No…not small. Cozy. He liked calling it cozy because it had that homey feel to it. As you always said, one day you were gonna need a bigger space, but he liked not having to walk down an endless hallway to get to a kitchen where you could fit three ping pong tables side by side and still have more than enough room. Having everything close and nearby, was much better.

Scratching his ears, he grabbed his phone with his free hand, smiling as he opened up a message from Sue. She had taken a selfie with some of her new friends at a café from the looks of it. His thumb typed out a quick response, wishing her good luck in classes along with asking her to be safe when she went out. If anything were to happen to Sue…Hoseok shook his head, his ears flapping at the movement. He needed to stop thinking like that. He was already protective of Sue, something that Colin isn’t too fond of at all, but what was Hoseok supposed to do? He was a German Shepard hybrid. It was in his nature to be protective of those he cared about.

Speaking about caring about someone, he looked over his shoulder back at your bedroom door. If he listened closely, he could hear the even beating of your heart. Unless he managed to drop every pot and pan you owned, there was nothing waking you up before your alarm.

His heart on the other hand, good God. Was this how it was supposed to feel all those years ago? Was he supposed to feel like the most powerful hybrid when he carried you in his arms? Were you supposed to feel like home? Hoseok was fairly certain, more then certain, he was positive that you were his mate. There was always that slim chance he was wrong, that you weren’t and he was making a mistake. If that was the case, he’d be devastated.

Hoseok needed to talk to Namjoon. The wolf hybrid had gone through something similar, and if there was anyone that he could trust with a secret this deep and get advice from at the same time, it was definitely Namjoon.

With his phone still in hand, he shot a quick text to the wolf asking if he wanted to meet up for coffee at eleven thirty. He wasn’t surprised when he got a reply within a matter of five minutes.

Sounds good to me.

Hobi was surprised when his phone vibrated seconds later, signaling another message.

It’s about her isn’t it?

His thumbs hovered over the key but he wrote out a simple ‘yes,’ and, ‘I’ll tell you then,’ and left it at that. There was no point in telling the story twice. With plans made, he set his phone back down and started filling up the kettle with water to boil for coffee when you woke up.

***

Something was up.

It wasn’t just that you felt like something was off, you knew for a fact that something had, or was going to happen, but you couldn’t put your finger on it and it was annoying the crap out of you.

By the time you managed to pull yourself out of bed, thanks to your blaring alarm, it was ten forty in the morning. You had to leave your apartment by eleven to get on campus and make it to your American Literature class and Biology lecture but still, no one liked having to leave their warm blankets for the cold weather.

Thankfully, you were greeted with Hoseok handing you a mug of coffee once you left the bathroom. You had on black leggings and an old black oversized hoodie with purple fuzzy socks for warmth. An outfit that obviously reflected the mood of every college student.

“Thank you,” you softly murmured, cradling the hot mug in your hands and took a long sip. As the heavenly beverage ran through your body, a soft moan escaped and you closed your eyes, taking another drink.

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, amused but also wondering how else he could get you to make that sound again. He shook his head immediately after that thought though, it wasn’t appropriate at the moment. Maybe one day, but until then he shouldn’t think about you like that. “You fell asleep on the couch again,” he said instead, walking back into the kitchen where he had the toaster out.

You paused at his accusation, the corner of your lips twitching as you settled on the chair at the high counter, watching as he glanced over at the toaster. “There was like twenty minutes left of the movie so I finished it. I must have fallen asleep by accident.”

He scoffed, getting out a plate just as an English muffin popped up. In a matter of minutes, the plate was slid in front of you with peanut butter and butter before going back and putting in another muffin for himself. When he turned around, he automatically laughed. You were sitting there in all black and a look of shock written all over your face. Mouth dropped open and eyes wide.

“You made me breakfast?” You asked, closing your mouth as it turned into a smile. As simple as it is, it was your favorite thing to eat in the morning.

“Of course,” Hoseok answered, still chuckling as he leaned back against the island you had, having to pause from drinking his own coffee so it wouldn’t spill. “You’re letting me stay here for four months and I know how to cook. It’s the least I can do.”

Hearing his explanation, your cheeks grew sore from smiling so much. “Thank you Hoseok. I really do appreciate it.”

“Oh, I know.” He chirped, buttering up his own breakfast.

You rolled your eyes, swallowing down some food and repicked up your mug. “Any plans for today?”

Hoseok paused, the knife he was using to spread the peanut butter was pressed against the softened muffin. The gears in his head were rapidly spinning in an attempt to create some cover up. He really hated lying to you, but there was no way he was telling you about the discussion he was planning on having with Namjoon. At least, not yet. Maybe one day he could. But that would mean you accepted him as your mate. That thought was just a hopeful dream at the moment.

“Just meeting up with Namjoon for brunch,” he simply answered, forcing his hands to continue moving. He refused to look in your direction just yet, fearing the second he looked in your eyes that he’d be spilling the whole damn truth.

In the time that Hoseok was frozen, you managed to finish eating and was tossing out the paper plate. One glance at the clock and you knew you had to kick your ass into gear if you wanted to leave on time.

“Brunch?” You quickly asked in an attempt to make sure you heard him right. “What brought this on?”

Shit, Hoseok thought. Shit, shit, shit. “I suggested it.” He finally said, thinking on the fly. “I thought he might like it, he seems like the type of person who would enjoy brunch.”

But you were rushing around, throwing your laptop and charger into your backpack, and grabbing the thousand-page textbook that you had decorated throughout the texts with a dozen colorful page markers. “That sounds like fun. Wish I could go.” Setting your bag on the couch, you power walked back into your room, grabbing your keys and phone charger before going back out to the living room.

Hoseok watched in amusement as you ran back and forth between your room and the living room where you had your bag, filling and emptying it out at the same time. As grateful as he was that you weren’t asking more about his meet up with Namjoon, he wished that you would just slow down. He knew how important school and work was for you, but you tended to let both things take over your life and stress you out beyond belief.

Without even being asked, he took your unfinished coffee and dumped it into a travel mug, topping it off with some of his since you both drink it the same way. There had been many times when he caught you stealing sips from his own mug.

“Come on Strawberry,” he gently called out when you disappeared into your bedroom once more. “I am demanding a hug before you leave here and I do not want it to be half assed because you’re rushed.”

“Half assed?” You repeated, walking out of the bedroom with your head tilted to the right as you tried to slip an earring through the hole. The minute you saw his smile and the travel mug though, you relaxed. “Give me one second Hobi and I promise, I’ll give you the best hug in the world.”

“You already give the best hugs in the world,” he whined. His tail however, continued to wave back and forth.

Once the ear rings were in place, you made your way over to him. “What about Sue? I thought you loved her hugs,” you teased, wrapping him in a hug.

“Yours are still the best.” He murmured into your hair, his arms tight as he tried to hold you close. That made you giggle and to Hoseok, it was music to his ears. So much so, that he nuzzled his head against your neck, getting you to laugh even louder.

Like always, his hugs ignited a warmth that spread throughout your body. It was always a mystery to you as how he was the only one to do this. Even at the happiest moment with your exes, this feeling never happened. It was a Hoseok only thing.

“Alright,” you murmured after a while, knowing that you had spent too long in his arms. “I have to get going to make it on time.”

Hoseok released a whine, his arms tightening even more to make you stay. If you didn’t have any other commitments you’d gladly stay behind. But college was expensive as fuck, meaning that if you skipped class, you’d literally be throwing away money. Which in your book, was not an option. Unless of course, you were dying of the plague.

You held your ground though and regrettably pulled out of his hug. Grabbing your jacket from closet, your slipped it on along with the rest of your winter gear, tugging your beanie on last. With a huff you grabbed the backpack, glancing at Hoseok when he giggled. He was patiently waiting for you to take the travel mug.

“Text me when you get there?” He asked, a hopeful look on his face.

With careful hands you took the coffee. “And I’ll text you when I’m leaving,” you added. The smile that appeared on his face made the thought of staying home all that more tempting. “Okay, I really have to go now.”

He opened the door for you, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his stomach. “Have fun with classes.”

“Have fun with Namjoon.”

Waving one last time, you headed for the elevator, smiling to yourself because you knew Hoseok was watching you. It was a part of his nature to make sure you were safe, that’s what he told you at least the first time he did this. But it felt different this time. Just like how dinner last night was different.

Everything was changing, and as the elevator opened up to the ground floor and you walked out of the building, you remembered how it felt to indulge yourself in his arms the night before. It sent butterflies flying in your stomach and made your mouth dry, forcing you to take a sip of your coffee once you were in the car.

Hoseok had made your coffee perfectly.

Staring out the windshield, you focused on the patch of snow that sat on the curb. It was the last remits of the snow storm from a few weeks ago. Although you used the term, ‘storm,’ lightly. The news had broadcasted it like it was going to be the worst storm of the season. In reality, your town got maybe, four or five inches of snow. Not that you were complaining, the college had cancelled classes the night before and your boss at the bookstore said not to come in, so you had the pleasure of staying in bed where it was warm.

The longer your stared though, the easier it was for your mind to wander. To what Namjoon said, to last night at the Dance Studio with Hobi, even to just fifteen minutes ago. And each time you found yourself longing to be back in Hoseok’s arms.

“What am I doing?” You whispered. There was no answer though, because you had no idea. 

[samanthasroberts]

My Husband Isn’t My “Type”and He’s Definitely Not My Best Friend

“Is your husband really, truly your best friend? Really? Because mine isnt.”

ByRobin O’Bryant

Im going to need everyone who has posted a Facebook status along the lines of, Happy Anniversary to my best friend and the love of my life! to form a line, so that in an orderly fashion, I can walk down said line and thump each of you right in the middle of your foreheads.

Is your husband really, truly your best friend? Really?

Because mine isnt.

When people ask me how I met my husband, I usually just say, Church. You need to know someone pretty well before you say something like, God told me he was my husband and even though Im not used to hearing voices, I just went for it! Whats to lose, amiright?!

It was the summer of 1997, I was 19 years old and spending the break working in the office of a new evangelical church my mother had started attending.

My parents had just gone through a shocking divorce, and by shocking, let me just say that to this very day, almost 20 years after their divorce, Ive never heard my parents argue. Ever. They woke us up one fine Alabama Saturday morning and told us they had gotten a divorce a few weeks earlier and my dad was moving out. There was no warning shot fired, no attempt at counseling or reconciliation, just that one sucker punch when we werent paying attention. A year later, I broke up with my boyfriend of four years and my heart was still tender from both events.

Maybe I was naive to think I could bargain with God, but nevertheless, I laid out my terms in my journal:

Ill never give my heart away again. Im giving it to you. Maybe Im ridiculous to never want to date again, but if you could just give me a sign or something when I meet my husbandTHEN Ill date him and fall in love. I dont want to risk picking the wrong person again. After everything…I dont trust my own judgment. So a burning bush? Im not in a hurry. Im ready to go all Sister Mary Clarence about this (thats a Sister Act jokeGod gets me). So, please. Smoke signals? Something…

Before I headed back for the next semester, my older brother Matt and I decided to go to Texas for a Christian motorcycle rally with a family from our new church. (And yes, I do realize this story is getting weirder by the second.) It was kind of a Christian convention meets county fair/campgrounds, but with former Hells Angels who have converted and love JesusIm sure you have the perfect mental picture.

We borrowed a tent, loaded Matts car and joined a caravan of cars following the OBryant family to Texas. One of their sons, Zeb, was a year younger than me. But even if I hadnt been in my Sister Mary Clarence phase, I wouldnt have looked at him twice.

Zeb wasnt my type. My type was clean cut and all-American, the kind who wore lots of Polo shirts and khaki pants, possibly played golf and most definitely was a member of Key Club. Zeb rode a metallic blue 1976 Harley-Davidson everywhere he went, had a goatee that was a little longer than I thought sanitary and his naturally brown hair was bleached blonde and spiked in a manner not unlike Edward Cullensor Edward Scissorhands, for that matter.

Regardless, meeting Zeb began a weekend-long love affair with his vintage Harley-Davidson and Texas back roads. Every time Zeb jumped on his bike, hed give me a nod, Id hop on and wed take off. The rumble of the Harley and the twisting roads through the Hill Country almost hypnotized me. The wind blasted my face and ratted my hair as the sun warmed my jeans. I was careful to keep my hands gently on Zebs hips and to not lean too close against himSister Mary Clarence didnt want to inadvertently press any boobage against his back and give him the wrong idea.

We were sitting in a tent revival type of meetingfolding chairs and open air with the stars hanging low and lazy in the night sky. Our faces were still grey with the road dust and we smelled sweetly of sunshine and gasoline. I was sitting there with my Bible open on my lap when I had a crazy thought:

My husband is here somewhere…

My eyes scanned the crowd and as they did, they fell on Zeb, who was sitting to my right, ripped jeans and motorcycle boots propped on the chair in front of him. Now Im not saying I heard an audible voice, but something deep inside of me clearly shouted, Its him.

I knew from that moment on I would marry him. And its a damn good thing I was hearing voices that nightotherwise I wouldve totally missed it.

Zeb is my polar opposite. Hes an extrovert; Im an introvert. He loves nature and the outdoors; Ive wondered if I could get a PhD in Netflix. Hes calm, steady and always in a good mood. Im creative, a roller-coaster of emotions and quite franklyprone to hysterics.

I want a best friend who will tell me I need one more pair of shoes and a man who will remind me to save for my retirement account. I want to call my best friend when I feel Ive been wronged and hear her say, What a b*tch! I cant believe she said that to you! I want to be married to a man who says, Who gives a sh*t what she thinks? And I want to get into bed at night with a man who ignites things in me no one else can.

Zeb isnt my best friend.

I have never been so angry at my best friend that I fantasized about throwing a lamp or other miscellaneous piece of furniture at her head. I cant say the same for ole Zeb. For example, once our 3-year-old had walking pneumonia. Sadie was running a fever, listless and refused to drink anything. I tried all manner of juices, an assortment of sippy cups and silly straws all to no avail.

Zeb, will you go to the store and get some Popsicles? I asked.

Do you really think she needs sugar when shes this sick?

I think she needs any type of fluid she can get down because shes going to get dehydrated. So yes, I think she needs Popsicles. I replied.

Give her some water, Zeb advised.

I HAVE.

Try some juice.

Really Zeb? Ive tried everything. Thats why I need Popsicles. I was starting to get pretty pissed.

I just dont think she needs sugar. He said, again.

Noted. Now go to the store and get Popsicles. Please. I said please out loud but in my head I was screaming, YOU SOB!

He was as mad as all get out, but he went to the storevictory was mine! Sadie would be hydrated! All was well with the world…until he walked in the door carrying a box of 200 Otter Pops that werent even frozen.

Is this really happening?! I yelled, What the hell? POPSICLES, Zeb! Why is that so hard?

These ARE Popsicles! He yelled back.

No they arent! Theyll be Popsicles in 36-48 hours but they are most certainly NOT Popsicles right now! Why didnt you get frozen ones?

He looked me straight in the eye and said, I didnt know you could buy them that way.

Are you sure thats how you want to play this? Do you really want me to believe youre that stupid? I asked.

I dont know that Ive ever been so completely filled with rage. Over freaking Popsicles.

But thats the way it is with me and Zebwe are passionate and stubborn. Sometimes I think I might see myself on an episode of Dateline, Josh Mankiewicz strolling down our street as a camera pans wide and says,In the small town of Greenwood, Mississippi, everything looked perfect for Zeb and Robin OBryant…until one day, in a fit of rage, Robin did the unthinkable…

But then, in a split second, Zeb is there with eyes the exact same amber brown assunshine filtered through a beer bottle. He wraps his arms around me while Im standing at the stove cooking dinner. Hekisses my neck and his beard tickles my skin, Sorry, he whispers. And I melt.

Zeb isnt my best friend. Depending on the movie I want to see, Ill ditch him in a second for my girlfriends. But when things gets real, I dont care if anyone is standing with me but him. Hes my partner, my equal and without a doubt, my better half. Zeb is the peanut butter to my jelly, the yin to my yang, the spiritual Xanax to my eight-ball of coke.

Im also going to need all of you people who say, Thanks for the best 15 years of my life! to stand in a separate corner and await your own punishment, because marriage isnt easy, and it most certainly isnt all happy.

Id rather say:

I really appreciate you driving me to therapy every week.

Thanks for not leaving me when I act like a lunatic.

“Thanks for acting like you thought I was sexy for the last 16 years even though Ive gained and lost hundreds of pounds and my stretch marks look like a topographical map of the Rocky Mountains.

I have lots of friends, hell, I even have lots of best friends…but there is and will always be, only one Zeb. Hes my husband and thats enough.

About the Author: Robin O’Bryant is the The New Times best-selling author of Ketchup is a Vegetable and Other Lies Moms Tell Themselves. You can follow her on FaceBook as Robin O’Bryantor Twitter.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/06/10/my-husband-isnt-my-typeand-hes-definitely-not-my-best-friend/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/06/10/my-husband-isnt-my-typeand-hes-definitely-not-my-best-friend/

[jimdsmith34]

My Husband Isn’t My “Type”and He’s Definitely Not My Best Friend

“Is your husband really, truly your best friend? Really? Because mine isnt.”

ByRobin O’Bryant

Im going to need everyone who has posted a Facebook status along the lines of, Happy Anniversary to my best friend and the love of my life! to form a line, so that in an orderly fashion, I can walk down said line and thump each of you right in the middle of your foreheads.

Is your husband really, truly your best friend? Really?

Because mine isnt.

When people ask me how I met my husband, I usually just say, Church. You need to know someone pretty well before you say something like, God told me he was my husband and even though Im not used to hearing voices, I just went for it! Whats to lose, amiright?!

It was the summer of 1997, I was 19 years old and spending the break working in the office of a new evangelical church my mother had started attending.

My parents had just gone through a shocking divorce, and by shocking, let me just say that to this very day, almost 20 years after their divorce, Ive never heard my parents argue. Ever. They woke us up one fine Alabama Saturday morning and told us they had gotten a divorce a few weeks earlier and my dad was moving out. There was no warning shot fired, no attempt at counseling or reconciliation, just that one sucker punch when we werent paying attention. A year later, I broke up with my boyfriend of four years and my heart was still tender from both events.

Maybe I was naive to think I could bargain with God, but nevertheless, I laid out my terms in my journal:

Ill never give my heart away again. Im giving it to you. Maybe Im ridiculous to never want to date again, but if you could just give me a sign or something when I meet my husbandTHEN Ill date him and fall in love. I dont want to risk picking the wrong person again. After everything…I dont trust my own judgment. So a burning bush? Im not in a hurry. Im ready to go all Sister Mary Clarence about this (thats a Sister Act jokeGod gets me). So, please. Smoke signals? Something…

Before I headed back for the next semester, my older brother Matt and I decided to go to Texas for a Christian motorcycle rally with a family from our new church. (And yes, I do realize this story is getting weirder by the second.) It was kind of a Christian convention meets county fair/campgrounds, but with former Hells Angels who have converted and love JesusIm sure you have the perfect mental picture.

We borrowed a tent, loaded Matts car and joined a caravan of cars following the OBryant family to Texas. One of their sons, Zeb, was a year younger than me. But even if I hadnt been in my Sister Mary Clarence phase, I wouldnt have looked at him twice.

Zeb wasnt my type. My type was clean cut and all-American, the kind who wore lots of Polo shirts and khaki pants, possibly played golf and most definitely was a member of Key Club. Zeb rode a metallic blue 1976 Harley-Davidson everywhere he went, had a goatee that was a little longer than I thought sanitary and his naturally brown hair was bleached blonde and spiked in a manner not unlike Edward Cullensor Edward Scissorhands, for that matter.

Regardless, meeting Zeb began a weekend-long love affair with his vintage Harley-Davidson and Texas back roads. Every time Zeb jumped on his bike, hed give me a nod, Id hop on and wed take off. The rumble of the Harley and the twisting roads through the Hill Country almost hypnotized me. The wind blasted my face and ratted my hair as the sun warmed my jeans. I was careful to keep my hands gently on Zebs hips and to not lean too close against himSister Mary Clarence didnt want to inadvertently press any boobage against his back and give him the wrong idea.

We were sitting in a tent revival type of meetingfolding chairs and open air with the stars hanging low and lazy in the night sky. Our faces were still grey with the road dust and we smelled sweetly of sunshine and gasoline. I was sitting there with my Bible open on my lap when I had a crazy thought:

My husband is here somewhere…

My eyes scanned the crowd and as they did, they fell on Zeb, who was sitting to my right, ripped jeans and motorcycle boots propped on the chair in front of him. Now Im not saying I heard an audible voice, but something deep inside of me clearly shouted, Its him.

I knew from that moment on I would marry him. And its a damn good thing I was hearing voices that nightotherwise I wouldve totally missed it.

Zeb is my polar opposite. Hes an extrovert; Im an introvert. He loves nature and the outdoors; Ive wondered if I could get a PhD in Netflix. Hes calm, steady and always in a good mood. Im creative, a roller-coaster of emotions and quite franklyprone to hysterics.

I want a best friend who will tell me I need one more pair of shoes and a man who will remind me to save for my retirement account. I want to call my best friend when I feel Ive been wronged and hear her say, What a b*tch! I cant believe she said that to you! I want to be married to a man who says, Who gives a sh*t what she thinks? And I want to get into bed at night with a man who ignites things in me no one else can.

Zeb isnt my best friend.

I have never been so angry at my best friend that I fantasized about throwing a lamp or other miscellaneous piece of furniture at her head. I cant say the same for ole Zeb. For example, once our 3-year-old had walking pneumonia. Sadie was running a fever, listless and refused to drink anything. I tried all manner of juices, an assortment of sippy cups and silly straws all to no avail.

Zeb, will you go to the store and get some Popsicles? I asked.

Do you really think she needs sugar when shes this sick?

I think she needs any type of fluid she can get down because shes going to get dehydrated. So yes, I think she needs Popsicles. I replied.

Give her some water, Zeb advised.

I HAVE.

Try some juice.

Really Zeb? Ive tried everything. Thats why I need Popsicles. I was starting to get pretty pissed.

I just dont think she needs sugar. He said, again.

Noted. Now go to the store and get Popsicles. Please. I said please out loud but in my head I was screaming, YOU SOB!

He was as mad as all get out, but he went to the storevictory was mine! Sadie would be hydrated! All was well with the world…until he walked in the door carrying a box of 200 Otter Pops that werent even frozen.

Is this really happening?! I yelled, What the hell? POPSICLES, Zeb! Why is that so hard?

These ARE Popsicles! He yelled back.

No they arent! Theyll be Popsicles in 36-48 hours but they are most certainly NOT Popsicles right now! Why didnt you get frozen ones?

He looked me straight in the eye and said, I didnt know you could buy them that way.

Are you sure thats how you want to play this? Do you really want me to believe youre that stupid? I asked.

I dont know that Ive ever been so completely filled with rage. Over freaking Popsicles.

But thats the way it is with me and Zebwe are passionate and stubborn. Sometimes I think I might see myself on an episode of Dateline, Josh Mankiewicz strolling down our street as a camera pans wide and says,In the small town of Greenwood, Mississippi, everything looked perfect for Zeb and Robin OBryant…until one day, in a fit of rage, Robin did the unthinkable…

But then, in a split second, Zeb is there with eyes the exact same amber brown assunshine filtered through a beer bottle. He wraps his arms around me while Im standing at the stove cooking dinner. Hekisses my neck and his beard tickles my skin, Sorry, he whispers. And I melt.

Zeb isnt my best friend. Depending on the movie I want to see, Ill ditch him in a second for my girlfriends. But when things gets real, I dont care if anyone is standing with me but him. Hes my partner, my equal and without a doubt, my better half. Zeb is the peanut butter to my jelly, the yin to my yang, the spiritual Xanax to my eight-ball of coke.

Im also going to need all of you people who say, Thanks for the best 15 years of my life! to stand in a separate corner and await your own punishment, because marriage isnt easy, and it most certainly isnt all happy.

Id rather say:

I really appreciate you driving me to therapy every week.

Thanks for not leaving me when I act like a lunatic.

“Thanks for acting like you thought I was sexy for the last 16 years even though Ive gained and lost hundreds of pounds and my stretch marks look like a topographical map of the Rocky Mountains.

I have lots of friends, hell, I even have lots of best friends…but there is and will always be, only one Zeb. Hes my husband and thats enough.

About the Author: Robin O’Bryant is the The New Times best-selling author of Ketchup is a Vegetable and Other Lies Moms Tell Themselves. You can follow her on FaceBook as Robin O’Bryantor Twitter.

source http://allofbeer.com/2017/06/10/my-husband-isnt-my-typeand-hes-definitely-not-my-best-friend/ from All of Beer http://allofbeer.blogspot.com/2017/06/my-husband-isnt-my-typeand-hes.html

[adambstingus]

My Husband Isn’t My “Type”and He’s Definitely Not My Best Friend

“Is your husband really, truly your best friend? Really? Because mine isnt.”

ByRobin O’Bryant

Im going to need everyone who has posted a Facebook status along the lines of, Happy Anniversary to my best friend and the love of my life! to form a line, so that in an orderly fashion, I can walk down said line and thump each of you right in the middle of your foreheads.

Is your husband really, truly your best friend? Really?

Because mine isnt.

When people ask me how I met my husband, I usually just say, Church. You need to know someone pretty well before you say something like, God told me he was my husband and even though Im not used to hearing voices, I just went for it! Whats to lose, amiright?!

It was the summer of 1997, I was 19 years old and spending the break working in the office of a new evangelical church my mother had started attending.

My parents had just gone through a shocking divorce, and by shocking, let me just say that to this very day, almost 20 years after their divorce, Ive never heard my parents argue. Ever. They woke us up one fine Alabama Saturday morning and told us they had gotten a divorce a few weeks earlier and my dad was moving out. There was no warning shot fired, no attempt at counseling or reconciliation, just that one sucker punch when we werent paying attention. A year later, I broke up with my boyfriend of four years and my heart was still tender from both events.

Maybe I was naive to think I could bargain with God, but nevertheless, I laid out my terms in my journal:

Ill never give my heart away again. Im giving it to you. Maybe Im ridiculous to never want to date again, but if you could just give me a sign or something when I meet my husbandTHEN Ill date him and fall in love. I dont want to risk picking the wrong person again. After everything…I dont trust my own judgment. So a burning bush? Im not in a hurry. Im ready to go all Sister Mary Clarence about this (thats a Sister Act jokeGod gets me). So, please. Smoke signals? Something…

Before I headed back for the next semester, my older brother Matt and I decided to go to Texas for a Christian motorcycle rally with a family from our new church. (And yes, I do realize this story is getting weirder by the second.) It was kind of a Christian convention meets county fair/campgrounds, but with former Hells Angels who have converted and love JesusIm sure you have the perfect mental picture.

We borrowed a tent, loaded Matts car and joined a caravan of cars following the OBryant family to Texas. One of their sons, Zeb, was a year younger than me. But even if I hadnt been in my Sister Mary Clarence phase, I wouldnt have looked at him twice.

Zeb wasnt my type. My type was clean cut and all-American, the kind who wore lots of Polo shirts and khaki pants, possibly played golf and most definitely was a member of Key Club. Zeb rode a metallic blue 1976 Harley-Davidson everywhere he went, had a goatee that was a little longer than I thought sanitary and his naturally brown hair was bleached blonde and spiked in a manner not unlike Edward Cullensor Edward Scissorhands, for that matter.

Regardless, meeting Zeb began a weekend-long love affair with his vintage Harley-Davidson and Texas back roads. Every time Zeb jumped on his bike, hed give me a nod, Id hop on and wed take off. The rumble of the Harley and the twisting roads through the Hill Country almost hypnotized me. The wind blasted my face and ratted my hair as the sun warmed my jeans. I was careful to keep my hands gently on Zebs hips and to not lean too close against himSister Mary Clarence didnt want to inadvertently press any boobage against his back and give him the wrong idea.

We were sitting in a tent revival type of meetingfolding chairs and open air with the stars hanging low and lazy in the night sky. Our faces were still grey with the road dust and we smelled sweetly of sunshine and gasoline. I was sitting there with my Bible open on my lap when I had a crazy thought:

My husband is here somewhere…

My eyes scanned the crowd and as they did, they fell on Zeb, who was sitting to my right, ripped jeans and motorcycle boots propped on the chair in front of him. Now Im not saying I heard an audible voice, but something deep inside of me clearly shouted, Its him.

I knew from that moment on I would marry him. And its a damn good thing I was hearing voices that nightotherwise I wouldve totally missed it.

Zeb is my polar opposite. Hes an extrovert; Im an introvert. He loves nature and the outdoors; Ive wondered if I could get a PhD in Netflix. Hes calm, steady and always in a good mood. Im creative, a roller-coaster of emotions and quite franklyprone to hysterics.

I want a best friend who will tell me I need one more pair of shoes and a man who will remind me to save for my retirement account. I want to call my best friend when I feel Ive been wronged and hear her say, What a b*tch! I cant believe she said that to you! I want to be married to a man who says, Who gives a sh*t what she thinks? And I want to get into bed at night with a man who ignites things in me no one else can.

Zeb isnt my best friend.

I have never been so angry at my best friend that I fantasized about throwing a lamp or other miscellaneous piece of furniture at her head. I cant say the same for ole Zeb. For example, once our 3-year-old had walking pneumonia. Sadie was running a fever, listless and refused to drink anything. I tried all manner of juices, an assortment of sippy cups and silly straws all to no avail.

Zeb, will you go to the store and get some Popsicles? I asked.

Do you really think she needs sugar when shes this sick?

I think she needs any type of fluid she can get down because shes going to get dehydrated. So yes, I think she needs Popsicles. I replied.

Give her some water, Zeb advised.

I HAVE.

Try some juice.

Really Zeb? Ive tried everything. Thats why I need Popsicles. I was starting to get pretty pissed.

I just dont think she needs sugar. He said, again.

Noted. Now go to the store and get Popsicles. Please. I said please out loud but in my head I was screaming, YOU SOB!

He was as mad as all get out, but he went to the storevictory was mine! Sadie would be hydrated! All was well with the world…until he walked in the door carrying a box of 200 Otter Pops that werent even frozen.

Is this really happening?! I yelled, What the hell? POPSICLES, Zeb! Why is that so hard?

These ARE Popsicles! He yelled back.

No they arent! Theyll be Popsicles in 36-48 hours but they are most certainly NOT Popsicles right now! Why didnt you get frozen ones?

He looked me straight in the eye and said, I didnt know you could buy them that way.

Are you sure thats how you want to play this? Do you really want me to believe youre that stupid? I asked.

I dont know that Ive ever been so completely filled with rage. Over freaking Popsicles.

But thats the way it is with me and Zebwe are passionate and stubborn. Sometimes I think I might see myself on an episode of Dateline, Josh Mankiewicz strolling down our street as a camera pans wide and says,In the small town of Greenwood, Mississippi, everything looked perfect for Zeb and Robin OBryant…until one day, in a fit of rage, Robin did the unthinkable…

But then, in a split second, Zeb is there with eyes the exact same amber brown assunshine filtered through a beer bottle. He wraps his arms around me while Im standing at the stove cooking dinner. Hekisses my neck and his beard tickles my skin, Sorry, he whispers. And I melt.

Zeb isnt my best friend. Depending on the movie I want to see, Ill ditch him in a second for my girlfriends. But when things gets real, I dont care if anyone is standing with me but him. Hes my partner, my equal and without a doubt, my better half. Zeb is the peanut butter to my jelly, the yin to my yang, the spiritual Xanax to my eight-ball of coke.

Im also going to need all of you people who say, Thanks for the best 15 years of my life! to stand in a separate corner and await your own punishment, because marriage isnt easy, and it most certainly isnt all happy.

Id rather say:

I really appreciate you driving me to therapy every week.

Thanks for not leaving me when I act like a lunatic.

“Thanks for acting like you thought I was sexy for the last 16 years even though Ive gained and lost hundreds of pounds and my stretch marks look like a topographical map of the Rocky Mountains.

I have lots of friends, hell, I even have lots of best friends…but there is and will always be, only one Zeb. Hes my husband and thats enough.

About the Author: Robin O’Bryant is the The New Times best-selling author of Ketchup is a Vegetable and Other Lies Moms Tell Themselves. You can follow her on FaceBook as Robin O’Bryantor Twitter.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/06/10/my-husband-isnt-my-typeand-hes-definitely-not-my-best-friend/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/161673020527

[allofbeercom]

My Husband Isn’t My “Type”and He’s Definitely Not My Best Friend

“Is your husband really, truly your best friend? Really? Because mine isnt.”

ByRobin O’Bryant

Im going to need everyone who has posted a Facebook status along the lines of, Happy Anniversary to my best friend and the love of my life! to form a line, so that in an orderly fashion, I can walk down said line and thump each of you right in the middle of your foreheads.

Is your husband really, truly your best friend? Really?

Because mine isnt.

When people ask me how I met my husband, I usually just say, Church. You need to know someone pretty well before you say something like, God told me he was my husband and even though Im not used to hearing voices, I just went for it! Whats to lose, amiright?!

It was the summer of 1997, I was 19 years old and spending the break working in the office of a new evangelical church my mother had started attending.

My parents had just gone through a shocking divorce, and by shocking, let me just say that to this very day, almost 20 years after their divorce, Ive never heard my parents argue. Ever. They woke us up one fine Alabama Saturday morning and told us they had gotten a divorce a few weeks earlier and my dad was moving out. There was no warning shot fired, no attempt at counseling or reconciliation, just that one sucker punch when we werent paying attention. A year later, I broke up with my boyfriend of four years and my heart was still tender from both events.

Maybe I was naive to think I could bargain with God, but nevertheless, I laid out my terms in my journal:

Ill never give my heart away again. Im giving it to you. Maybe Im ridiculous to never want to date again, but if you could just give me a sign or something when I meet my husbandTHEN Ill date him and fall in love. I dont want to risk picking the wrong person again. After everything…I dont trust my own judgment. So a burning bush? Im not in a hurry. Im ready to go all Sister Mary Clarence about this (thats a Sister Act jokeGod gets me). So, please. Smoke signals? Something…

Before I headed back for the next semester, my older brother Matt and I decided to go to Texas for a Christian motorcycle rally with a family from our new church. (And yes, I do realize this story is getting weirder by the second.) It was kind of a Christian convention meets county fair/campgrounds, but with former Hells Angels who have converted and love JesusIm sure you have the perfect mental picture.

We borrowed a tent, loaded Matts car and joined a caravan of cars following the OBryant family to Texas. One of their sons, Zeb, was a year younger than me. But even if I hadnt been in my Sister Mary Clarence phase, I wouldnt have looked at him twice.

Zeb wasnt my type. My type was clean cut and all-American, the kind who wore lots of Polo shirts and khaki pants, possibly played golf and most definitely was a member of Key Club. Zeb rode a metallic blue 1976 Harley-Davidson everywhere he went, had a goatee that was a little longer than I thought sanitary and his naturally brown hair was bleached blonde and spiked in a manner not unlike Edward Cullensor Edward Scissorhands, for that matter.

Regardless, meeting Zeb began a weekend-long love affair with his vintage Harley-Davidson and Texas back roads. Every time Zeb jumped on his bike, hed give me a nod, Id hop on and wed take off. The rumble of the Harley and the twisting roads through the Hill Country almost hypnotized me. The wind blasted my face and ratted my hair as the sun warmed my jeans. I was careful to keep my hands gently on Zebs hips and to not lean too close against himSister Mary Clarence didnt want to inadvertently press any boobage against his back and give him the wrong idea.

We were sitting in a tent revival type of meetingfolding chairs and open air with the stars hanging low and lazy in the night sky. Our faces were still grey with the road dust and we smelled sweetly of sunshine and gasoline. I was sitting there with my Bible open on my lap when I had a crazy thought:

My husband is here somewhere…

My eyes scanned the crowd and as they did, they fell on Zeb, who was sitting to my right, ripped jeans and motorcycle boots propped on the chair in front of him. Now Im not saying I heard an audible voice, but something deep inside of me clearly shouted, Its him.

I knew from that moment on I would marry him. And its a damn good thing I was hearing voices that nightotherwise I wouldve totally missed it.

Zeb is my polar opposite. Hes an extrovert; Im an introvert. He loves nature and the outdoors; Ive wondered if I could get a PhD in Netflix. Hes calm, steady and always in a good mood. Im creative, a roller-coaster of emotions and quite franklyprone to hysterics.

I want a best friend who will tell me I need one more pair of shoes and a man who will remind me to save for my retirement account. I want to call my best friend when I feel Ive been wronged and hear her say, What a b*tch! I cant believe she said that to you! I want to be married to a man who says, Who gives a sh*t what she thinks? And I want to get into bed at night with a man who ignites things in me no one else can.

Zeb isnt my best friend.

I have never been so angry at my best friend that I fantasized about throwing a lamp or other miscellaneous piece of furniture at her head. I cant say the same for ole Zeb. For example, once our 3-year-old had walking pneumonia. Sadie was running a fever, listless and refused to drink anything. I tried all manner of juices, an assortment of sippy cups and silly straws all to no avail.

Zeb, will you go to the store and get some Popsicles? I asked.

Do you really think she needs sugar when shes this sick?

I think she needs any type of fluid she can get down because shes going to get dehydrated. So yes, I think she needs Popsicles. I replied.

Give her some water, Zeb advised.

I HAVE.

Try some juice.

Really Zeb? Ive tried everything. Thats why I need Popsicles. I was starting to get pretty pissed.

I just dont think she needs sugar. He said, again.

Noted. Now go to the store and get Popsicles. Please. I said please out loud but in my head I was screaming, YOU SOB!

He was as mad as all get out, but he went to the storevictory was mine! Sadie would be hydrated! All was well with the world…until he walked in the door carrying a box of 200 Otter Pops that werent even frozen.

Is this really happening?! I yelled, What the hell? POPSICLES, Zeb! Why is that so hard?

These ARE Popsicles! He yelled back.

No they arent! Theyll be Popsicles in 36-48 hours but they are most certainly NOT Popsicles right now! Why didnt you get frozen ones?

He looked me straight in the eye and said, I didnt know you could buy them that way.

Are you sure thats how you want to play this? Do you really want me to believe youre that stupid? I asked.

I dont know that Ive ever been so completely filled with rage. Over freaking Popsicles.

But thats the way it is with me and Zebwe are passionate and stubborn. Sometimes I think I might see myself on an episode of Dateline, Josh Mankiewicz strolling down our street as a camera pans wide and says,In the small town of Greenwood, Mississippi, everything looked perfect for Zeb and Robin OBryant…until one day, in a fit of rage, Robin did the unthinkable…

But then, in a split second, Zeb is there with eyes the exact same amber brown assunshine filtered through a beer bottle. He wraps his arms around me while Im standing at the stove cooking dinner. Hekisses my neck and his beard tickles my skin, Sorry, he whispers. And I melt.

Zeb isnt my best friend. Depending on the movie I want to see, Ill ditch him in a second for my girlfriends. But when things gets real, I dont care if anyone is standing with me but him. Hes my partner, my equal and without a doubt, my better half. Zeb is the peanut butter to my jelly, the yin to my yang, the spiritual Xanax to my eight-ball of coke.

Im also going to need all of you people who say, Thanks for the best 15 years of my life! to stand in a separate corner and await your own punishment, because marriage isnt easy, and it most certainly isnt all happy.

Id rather say:

I really appreciate you driving me to therapy every week.

Thanks for not leaving me when I act like a lunatic.

“Thanks for acting like you thought I was sexy for the last 16 years even though Ive gained and lost hundreds of pounds and my stretch marks look like a topographical map of the Rocky Mountains.

I have lots of friends, hell, I even have lots of best friends…but there is and will always be, only one Zeb. Hes my husband and thats enough.

About the Author: Robin O’Bryant is the The New Times best-selling author of Ketchup is a Vegetable and Other Lies Moms Tell Themselves. You can follow her on FaceBook as Robin O’Bryantor Twitter.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/2017/06/10/my-husband-isnt-my-typeand-hes-definitely-not-my-best-friend/