My husband Adrian has been a martial artist since he was 9 years old. He’s talented and spent a long time learning and training–now he runs martial arts schools for a living. He’s a formidable sparring opponent, a very calm fighter, a frightening man to get in a fight with. I’ve seen him go toe-to-toe with champion fighters–and win.
Adrian also looks like Jesus. He’s absurdly kind-hearted and funny and caring and loving and considerate. He could never let harm come to an animal. In fact, he carries around our 8-pound dog more than anyone, allowing her to lay on his shoulders or lap for about 90% of the time he spends at home. He works hard to be a great husband, a great provider, and even offers to make breakfast sometimes (usually followed up with the question, “how do I make breakfast?”)
This is a fucking confusing dichotomy of a man. I get used to my nice, sweet Adrian, but sometimes he really fucking scares me.
1. Never Sneak Up On Adrian
Once, when we very first got together, I thought it would be super hilarious to sneak up on Adrian and scare him. He straight-punched me in the left tit without even seeing my face–a pure instinctual reaction. He grabbed me and started apologizing as I collapsed in pain. An inhuman, “WHOOOOOEEEEAAAAA,” coming out of my chest like a zombie dry-humping someone’s shrubbery, and I began to understand that it’s a poor idea to startle someone with good reflexes.
Lesson learned, nipple never quite the same.
2. Breaking Bad Would Be Very, Very Different With Adrian Around
During a break in a 4-day three-season Breaking Bad bender, I wondered what Adrian might do if put in a similar position as Walter White. What if we were in dire straits, and the only place left to turn for money and security was against the law? What would he choose to do? So I asked.
Without a moment’s hesitation: “Hitman. I’d be a good hitman. Given the right situation, I don’t really need a weapon. Just some gloves and a black bag over their head and bam–a million dollars.”
And then he took a drink of his double vodka sour like he hadn’t just told me he was a Russian mafioso.
3. Well, He Said He Didn’t Mean To
A friend of mine recently got into, and won, a fight defending his girlfriend from the man who punched her in the fucking face like it was okay to punch a small, feminine stranger unprovoked. While I’ve seen Adrian spar with someone, I’ve never really seen him get into a true, honest-to-God fisticuffs street brawl.
“Adrian, what would you do if someone punched me in the face?”
“Probably kill him. I can’t say that I’d mean to, but that’s how it would probably end up. I’d most likely react like I do when you scared me that one time and just snap his fucking neck. Dead or not, he’d get his ass kicked for touching you. Pass the Twizzlers?”
I…sort of want to be punched in the face now.
4. He Said He Got It From A Lake?
Last week, I returned home from a 3-day trip to find a huge sword laying on the bed. There was no note, no mention of him buying or winning-via-deathmatch this massive sword during the three separate conversations we had while I was away. Yet there it was, laying on the bed like it wasn’t even a thing.
Noa: Why is there a rapier on the bed?
Noa: Lot of home invasions get stopped by swordsmanship?
Adrian: Never know. I’d be more startled by it if I were a burglar.
Noa: Did you have to get one this huge? Or fancy?
Adrian: Sparkle, baby.
Noa: I…love you?
There has been no further explanation as to the appearance of the sword. I believe he may be challenging me to a duel.
Has someone in your life ever surprised you with something uncharacteristic like this? Is your angel-faced toddler kind of creepy at times? Your husband a closet interior decorator? Your sister a hidden yogi?