It can't be easy being married to me.
Even a casual reader of this blog will quickly sense what a gloomy bastard I am. Tortured too. Funnily enough though, my married life isn't like that at all. Probably because my wife and I are such very different people. She's an eminent scientist, highly esteemed in her field, a world authority in fact. She's pretty down to earth, level-headed, sensible and laughs a lot at my jokes. I guess that last bit is the key. Somehow or other I make her laugh a lot. Well, you've got to, haven't you.
I don't think she's ever looked at this blog. I mean, I could ask her but, somehow I'm a little embarrassed. It feels like it's my dirty little secret. And if I thought she was reading this (and she knows I'm doing it), I'd surely feel inhibited. Or, just possibly, I'd go the other way and become totally outrageous.
Actually, if she was the one writing a blog I'd be peeking at it all the time. I'd tell her I wasn't, but I would. It'd be like reading her diary. Sadly she doesn't keep a diary. Maybe I'll get her one for her birthday.
If only I could remember when that was.