Howling Wolf on Tree Stump

I love my Alpha Hubby.  I do.  It is beyond crazy how much I love this man.  God gave him to me on my birthday and that means he can’t ever get away.  He’s bona-fied!!  (Name that movie.)  He’ll have to take it up with God if things get too nutso for him with me. 

Yes, that (picture above)  is what his life is like – always on his knees asking for help because he married me.  Our life is like “The Hippie and The Cowboy”.  When we met, I was far more laid back than he was.  He was not laid back.  At all.  He was a hardnosed workalcoholic force of nature …umm let me see.  He was a VERY serious man. 

He’s got the best (and worst) of the Alpha Man traits.  He’s a MAN with a capital M.  And that is exactly what I needed – although sometimes, it tends to tick me off, anger me to no end test my own patience.  No, I should say “it used to” because I’ve adapted to him & he doesn’t get to me like he used to!  I know he loves me.  I trust him with my life.  He protects my heart in ways I never knew were possible.  And I would like to think I have matured.  *insert hysterical laughter here*  Dream on.

I am a very strong woman.  I took care of myself for a long time and didn’t need no stankin’ man anyone to take care of me.  Like he said, he liked me because, while his personality is such that he might attempt to dominate me, he can’t.  I fight back.  Unfairly to, hoho.   Very, very unfairly.  He is afraid of me.  I think that’s why I get flowers… among other things.  *Ahem* I was talking about support and love.  What?  What did you think I meant?  OK yeah, you caught me – passion.  Even better, romance.

So because of the aforementioned Alpha traits, such as that dominate-you-in-every-area-of-your-life gene, I have to choose my tortures… um fights wisely.   I don’t think Alphas even know they are doing that dominate thing, they just do it automatically.  Sometimes with wonderful results (s*x) and sometimes I want to pinch his leetle head off sit him down and explain the concept of equality, sharing, and blah blah blah (the last is all he will hear). 

So case-in-torture-point:  when we eat popcorn, I tend to spill a few pieces on the carpet.  He constantly points out the popcorn when he sees it, picks it up and puts the pieces in the trash can, muttering all the way.   He doesn’t even give me time to do it at the end of the evening before I leave the living room.  But don’t get the wrong idea – he picks it up because he loves me, not because he’s mean.  It’s just a thing we do. 

I have my ways of getting even, like the other day.  I noticed two teeny tiny pieces of popcorn on the carpet on his side, in front of his chair.  He hadn’t seen them.  I noticed I had about 8 tiny pieces on my side so I picked them all up and put them on his side.  Yeah!  I felt vindicated.  I mean, it wasn’t like he didn’t already have some on his side that he’d missed while nit-picking about the ones on my side, right?  Right!!  Sure, his were hard to see (at least until I got finished putting mine there).   When he saw them all, he was very confused.  Didn’t know how he’d missed them.  I just smiled serenely while inside I was doing a litle boogie dance.

HEY!  An Alpha woman’s gotta do what an Alpha woman’s gotta do. 

wolves

 ** Oh OK, yes I told him about the popcorn.  Later that evening.  Heh heh heh.  Ve haff our vays!!

This is a modified version of a previous post from last year!

Our Love Is Here to Stay, Changee