Have I ever mentioned here about how I married, perhaps, the most anti-social person on the planet?  Well, I did.  He could go to a deserted island and live all alone, never seeing a soul again and he would not be bothered at all. As long as the deserted island had ESPN reception, he’d be good.

It’s not that he doesn’t like people. I think he’s got that shy, introverted, artist-type of thing happening.  He has to Shake ‘n Howdy all the time on the road, which he enjoys to a point.  When he gets home, he wants to hibernate, thus, we have no social life to speak of, at least together.  We are a weird couple that way.  I guess, to friends of mine, Mr. Smiff is somewhat of an elusive character that they see very rarely, on special occasions.  Not everybody is cut out to be married to this type of person.  It can be a lonely existence, for sure.

Then again, it’s kinda nice cause he never surprises me with dinner or houseguests or throws any sort of weird social situation at me.  My dad was always springing people on my poor mother.

We had an invite for a New Year’s gathering.  I really wanted to go.  One, it sounded like fun.  Two, once the new year starts, so will Mr. Smiff’s busy calendar.  The Revolving Grascal Door will start swinging.  It was a nice idea to go out to a gathering on New Year’s like normal people do.   But. …He wanted to stay home.  He said he wanted a “nice, quiet evenig at home.”  I reminded him every night he’s home is a nice, quiet evening at home.  It would’ve been neat to actually, like, go out, me and him for a change.

I don’t think he sees it from that point of view at all.  He’s not trying to be a selfish, it’s-all-about-me ass.  He’s a homebody, plain and simple.  Still, it aggravates me and I wish we were going to that party.