It functions well. Serves its purpose. And it just happens to be called a "husband."
The other night I was leaned up against "the husband" in bed next to my real hubby. He was reading a book, and I was reading blogs, and I invited him a bit closer. He eyed the husband. I lovingly stated, "I'll share it with you."
He gave me the evil eye.
I knew exactly what he was thinking...
Flashback:
The day my old roommate and I moved into our old apartment, we invited some friends over to hang out. My now husband came (Note: We had just went out a few times and I had told him I wasn't ready to date). We had no furniture moved in yet except for our beds so we had to sit on the floor. Trying to be nice, I asked Ryan if he'd like to have "the husband" and his reply was, "I don't want to sit on anything called a husband."Back to bed:
So I couldn't help but laugh and ask him if he was jealous.
"I'm not going to be usurped by a pillow. It is not an acceptable substitute for a husband. It doesn't hold you or kiss you or hug you. It just sits there."
So, laughing hysterically, I tossed out the "husband" and confessed my unwaving love and devotion to my hubby and affirmed that, yes, he is a much better husband than the pillow.
Lesson learned. My pillow needs a new name...
