Thursday, December 31, 2009

he might knock four times...or not

My husband is having a love affair. There. I said it. I should be happy because the person he’s so taken with is a doctor. Doctor Who to be exact. I’m just going to let you all in on a secret, it’s something that no Doctor Who fan will want you to know – they don’t like to talk about their love. It’s very private and weird. Well, I added that last part, I think it might only be weird to me. When he was courting me, I had no idea of his infatuation with the Doctor, and the agony that this affair would one day bring me. I like to think I was a victim of a terrible scam. Ours was a perfect courtship, but it was full of false advertisement. I really had no idea how deep his love was for this flawed dorky Time Lord, until after we’d been married and it was too late for me to run for my life.

For Christmas this year, Zoe thought Santa should bring Daddy Doctor Who movies, and that he should bring Mommy “pink Doctor Who.” Lucy can name the tune to the theme song in three notes or less. As I was driving home from St. Louis today, I began thinking more about his insane fascination. In the car, I asked Steve how old he was when he saw his first episode of Doctor Who. Silly me. So many other conversations with him begin, “hey! Guess what they’re filming…” “hey! When David Tennant leaves…” “…the fifth doctor…” and typically as soon as I hear what he’s talking I totally tune out. So, why was I starting this conversation? Why was I opening this can? And why did one single little question spur 38 minutes of Tom Baker this and striped scarves that and Daleks…

I digress. I guess my point is that there is never really any rhyme or reason to people’s interests. I don’t like to talk about my creepy love for stinky old book smell. How, when I visit the library at UMKC I like to sit in the aisles and just sniff. I wish they would bottle that smell, only I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who would love it. Also, I love more than anything to sit and curse in my head. I try to see how many different ways I can drop the F bomb. I’m a weird chic. I do weird things. Who am I to judge Steve? I do think it’s a bit strange, however, that whenever Doctor Who comes up in conversation with other people, they’re always like, “Oh yeah! We watched that show! Didn’t you ever watch it?” Uh. Nope. Never heard of it before Steve came along to enlighten me. And I’m not really all that upset about the false advertising – it was a bit shocking but it would never change my feelings for him. But, his feelings for me? I have to say I worry sometimes. To put it simply, if a blue call box (it’s not a phone booth, duh) were to show up on our front lawn, Steve would for sure leave me for it. Hands down, without a doubt, I would be left in the smoke from that damn Tardis.

It’s okay. I’d just tell everyone he pulled a Tiger Woods on me, with eleven different…doctors. Sigh.


  1. See, a love for old book smell is PERFECTLY acceptable. It's quaint, it's feminine, it's academic. (I like it too, BTW) Also acceptable is being a fucking insane sports nut (buying the crazy $$ NFL Pass = acceptable. Buying atrocious jerseys? =acceptable. Tickets to games = acceptable. Eating like SHIT b/c a game is on = acceptable. Also, ignoring beautiful fall days & your family b/c "the GAME IS ON" = also socially acceptable. The 2nd tier down from that is the Accepted Nerddom Interests, including but not limited to: Trekkies, Battlestar folks, Star Wars gurus, Dr. Who, and all the other comic book, superhero, WoWF stuff. Because those are usually intelligent ppl who like quirky characters. Lowest on the totem pole? Twihards. I hate that. Even your Dr. Who Guru made fun of me. But yet... I'm not any different. :( Great post, btw.

  2. Oooooh - I almost forgot - Part II is on this weekend!



    P.S. You wouldn't mind if he disappeared into the Tardis, because he'd probably be back a few hours later by your reckoning. Ask Rose's Mom, or Donna's Grandpa!