Living with a Boy

When Danny and I were engaged and planning our life together, I dreamt of being the perfect 50’s housewife, vacuuming the floor in heels and pearls when Danny came home from work with a delicious meal cooking in the oven.

As our wedding day approached, our pastor, family, and married friends all told us that marriage would be a lot of work. I found myself thinking, “Why is everyone being such a downer? Marriage is just a slumber party every night with your super BFF.”

Let me be the first to tell you that marriage IS a slumber party every night with your super BFF. There’s also a lot more to it. For me, one of the biggest adjustments I had to make when Danny and I were newly married was learning to live with a boy. The trouble first came when I was packing for the honeymoon with two of my close friends from college. One of them mentioned casually, “Don’t forget to leave room for Danny’s stuff.” An instant panic set in my heart. My nice, clean, neatly folded clothes would have to share a home with and possibly even come in contact with MANTIES?!?! In case you are wondering, manties are man panties, and manties were a repulsive thought to me at that time.

Here’s a little background for you on this situation. I grew up in a fabulous, loving home with 3 sisters. Because my poor dad lived in a house with five women, he insisted on getting a male dog to even out the gender ratio a little. He named our dog the manliest name he could think of: Maxwell Joseph Studly Rambo Killer Hadfield. This is a true story. We called him Max. Despite my dad and Max’s best efforts to keep our house pumped with testosterone, my sisters and I spent a lot of our time watching girly chick flicks, painting our nails on the carpet (and accidentally spilling the bottle everywhere), and borrowing each other’s clothes without asking. At Missouri State, my best friend and I roomed together with matching girly pink bedspreads and lots of dress up dance parties. Throughout my college experience, I lived on a floor of 46 women and spent all of my time (if not with Danny) with my girlfriends.

Danny, on the other hand, is a man’s man. He grew up in a house of three brothers, where roughhousing ruled and it was not uncommon to see them climbing up on the roof and pushing each other down the stairs in child cars. He loves sports and all things outdoors. He would rather go hiking in the wilderness than go out to a nice dinner. He enjoyed spending time with his fraternity brothers, doing things like seeing who could drink an entire gallon of milk at once without barfing. When I went to visit Danny at his fraternity house, I would hold my breath every time I walked in the door to avoid the pungent scent of man, which vaguely resembled human waste and body odor sprinkled with vinegar.

So basically, going into marriage, the world of men was a mystery to me and I had picked a guy that embodied all that is man. I had no idea what to expect, but I hoped there could still be dress up dance parties and snuggly movie nights. For those of you beginning to embark on the adventure of marriage, it is the BEST! However, if you happen to be a girly girl like me, I want to give you a heads up on a few things that you might want to know about living with a boy:

1. Boys eat…a LOT!

For years, I would buy a package of cookies and they would last me a month. I’d pack two with my lunch each day as my special dessert. When Danny and I were first married, I assumed (with what I thought was logic) that we would go through a bag of cookies every half a month now, since there were two of us eating from one bag of cookies. One day I went to the cabinet to pack my lunch and couldn’t find the cookies. Come to find out my husband eats an entire package of cookies (that lasts me a whole month) in a DAY! I was baffled.

Besides the quantity of food Danny could eat, another thing that shocked me was what he considered a “snack”. I’m very strategic in my grocery shopping, purchasing complete meals where each element is essential to the recipe. I got home one day to find Danny eating a hamburger bun (essential component of the sausage sandwiches I was making for dinner) as a snack. I couldn’t fathom why anyone would ever eat a non-snack food as a snack! I looked in our kitchen and found apples, carrots, cookies, pretzels, chips and salsa…all appropriate snack foods. But apparently Danny likes to eat random pieces of bread and hamburger buns as a snack. I never saw it coming.

2. Boys are not your girlfriends.

One day, I was getting ready for work and I was having what I perceived to be a huge dilemma on which shoe would look best with my outfit. I walked into the other room where Danny was reading, and (without thinking) asked Danny the question I ask my girlfriends all the time, “Which one looks best?” My sweet, sweet Danny looked at each shoe, looked up at me, and said, “I don’t know, what do you think?” Simple, true words. I started bawling and said, “I can’t live with a boy! You can’t help me pick out my clothes.” True? Yes. Ridiculous? Yes. When you come from a house of girls where fashion advice is just a doorknob away, it can really take you by surprise to realize your husband isn’t your girlfriend.

These realizations will also come into play when you watch television or a movie. When Danny and I were dating, we were busy college students and rarely had time to just “hang out” and watch TV together. When you live together, you obviously see each other more and have more time to be around each other. Danny’s favorite kind of show to watch is anything sports, anything history, anything documentary, or anything old school that reminds him of shows he watched as a kid. Basically, anything snooze fest for me. So imagine my dismay when I am flipping through the channels, trying to find some deliciously terrible reality show, and Danny says, “Ooo ooo, turn it back! Gotta check the scores of the game.” Of a team he doesn’t even really care about. Or when he comes home from the library with 4 “exciting” documentaries on the assassinations of U.S. presidents. Remember in your premarital counseling where they’re talking about compromise? Yep, that’s it, right there.

3. Boys are gross.

Let’s face it. Boys can be gross. I know that all boys are different, not all boys are “gross” in the same ways, yadda yadda yadda. But let’s just operate on the principle for a minute that boys are gross in a different way than girls are. I have two specific illustrations of this, both of which I have received approval from Danny to tell the blog world. After all, no one’s REALLY reading this blog, right? :)

Illustration #1: I must first point out that Danny is ridiculously frugal and also that Danny will eat just about anything. The thought of seeing anything going to waste really pains him. That is still no excuse for what he did. We had a couple of cookies in the house (not homemade), that had gotten old and stale. This fact, in and of itself, is a miracle because Danny can eat millions of cookies a day. Without even thinking about it, I threw the few stale cookies in the trash. When Danny got home, he asked where the cookies were (it’s like he has cookie radar, he can detect when something is amiss). I told him that they were old and hard and gross and I threw them away. Danny was upset. Without a word, Danny walks over to the trashcan and lifts up the lid. I watch in slow-motion horror as Danny takes a cookie out of the trashcan and eats it. I am beyond horrified. Although unnecessary, I feel it is important to mention that we do not have a separate, “sanitary” trashcan where all of the yummy snacks that have gotten a little stale go. This trashcan, by definition, is full of nasty unwanted things that no human should ever ingest. I wanted to die. Danny’s response? “They’re not that stale.”

Illustration #2: I almost don’t want to share this story because I feel like if I type it out it means it really happened. I would prefer to think of it as a terrible, terrible nightmare. But alas, a perfect illustration of how boys are truly gross. Danny was in our restroom…going to the restroom. I have a very very sensitive gag reflex, and I was getting ready to take a shower. I asked him if it smelled in there because I didn’t want to gag, and I also said (jokingly), “there better not be any nasty stains on the toilet bowl.” Once again, I felt that slow-motion horror sensation creep over me as I watched my sweet husband STICK HIS HAND IN THE TOILET BOWL to wipe something off. I ran into the other room, curled in a ball on the floor, and screamed. The very first thought that popped into my head was, “We’ve only been married a few months, I can’t believe our marriage is over. But how can I possibly be married to a man who sticks his BARE HAND in a toilet bowl?” Danny (after washing his hands thoroughly) came out of the bathroom, saw me curled in a ball on the floor, and said “Allison, I’m a MAN.” I looked back at him with tears in my eyes and asked, “Can you be a man that uses the toilet bowl brush?”

Adjusting to living with a boy was the biggest transition I made when I got married. Despite all of his ridiculousness, I wouldn’t trade my amazing husband for the world. What’s shocking to me may be common sense to you. I’d love to hear your stories too! :)