I work at a well-known grocery store, which is where this happens; an important detail is that I always wear bright red lipstick. Another thing is that, even though I’m twenty here, I still only look fifteen.

A couple in their fifties or so comes through my till with their cart full of groceries. As I check them out, the following interaction occurs.

Husband: “That’s nice lipstick you’re wearing.”

Me: “Oh, thank you!”

Husband: “Can I lick it off?”

I pause here, because I think he couldn’t have possibly said what I think he just said.

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Husband: “Can I lick it off?”

As I’m struggling for words, his wife steps in.

Wife: “You shouldn’t say that!”

Husband: “Why not?”

Wife: “She doesn’t like it!”

I’ve had enough of him.

Me: “Have a nice day, sir.”

Then, I turn to his wife, who is still being pleasant, and carry on the transaction, thoroughly creeped out. The guy leaves after a few seconds, and at the end, his wife apologizes.

Wife: “I’m sorry about him; he’s learning boundaries.”

Then, she left. If your husband is still learning boundaries in his mid-fifties, it’s time to throw the whole man out. It was probably the creepiest thing to happen during my time working there, and that’s saying something.

I’m the author of Clearly Your Husband’s Not A Scorpio and thought I’d offer another gem my darling husband has come up with. To begin with, my husband is definitely very intelligent. He’s just in that category of “very intelligent with book-smarts but common sense has gone out the window.”

Early on in dating, making us in our late teens or early twenties, we are walking around our mall when we pass a Catholic priest. My future husband does a double-take.

Me: “What’s up?”

Husband: “Was that a Catholic Priest?”

Me: “Yeah?”

Husband: “I thought Hollywood made those up, like nuns!”

Me: “Nuns are a thing, too!”

Husband: “What?!”

He then looks at the priest’s briefcase.

Husband: “Do you think that’s his exorcism kit?”

Me: “What? No. No, it’s not. First of all, they don’t just carry stuff like that with them. I’m pretty sure they gotta get approval from the Vatican before they do an exorcism, anyway, and that can take time.”

Husband: “I’m gonna go ask.”

Me: “Leave the priest alone!”

My wonderful future husband had already let go of my hand and started following this poor priest down the walkway in the mall. He later returned to my side and informed me that the priest opened his briefcase to show that it was just paperwork he had with him.

Related:
Clearly Your Husband’s Not A Scorpio

My husband is tired as it is late and we’ve been traveling most of the day. I didn’t realize how tired he was until this. We always take some cash and often have some left when we return from vacation. This trip, we actually spent very little of what we had withdrawn, and my husband decides he is going to deposit the money back into our account right away instead of waiting to go to the bank or ATM in the morning.

Husband: “I can’t find anywhere on the app to make a deposit.”

Me: “Oh, did someone send us a check while we were gone?”

Husband: “I’m trying to put back the money we didn’t use. I can’t figure out how to deposit cash.”

Me: “You’re serious?”

Husband: “Yes! Why don’t they have that option? This is really frustrating!”

I start laughing; I can’t help myself.

Me: “And just how were you planning on transmitting the bills to the bank, since you can’t just take a picture of them?”

My husband glares at me like I have two heads, as I try to stifle my giggles.

Husband: “What are you laughing about? It’s not funny!”

Suddenly, it seems to dawn on him what he is trying to do and his expression changes to one of defeat.

Husband: “Oh, never mind. I think I’ll go to bed now.”

Me: “Good idea!”

He made the deposit at the bank the following morning. I still find his lapse amusing: he does not.

Shortly after finishing college, a boy I am dating invites me to spend a week in New York City with his family. It falls over our three-year anniversary, so he promises to take me out for a fancy dinner.

I am so excited! I pack a suitcase and drive to his house, expecting to see their minivan packed with bags and everyone getting ready to go. What I see, instead, is a bunch of vehicles parked in the yard and a bunch of people going back and forth between the house and the largest vehicles — mostly two fifteen-passenger vans.

My boyfriend comes out to greet me. 

Boyfriend: *Sheepishly* “Hey. Uh, so, you can say you don’t want to go if you don’t. I totally get it.”

Me: “What is… I thought this was a family thing?”

Boyfriend: “Yeah, but then [One Of His Brothers] found out you were going, so he wanted to take his girlfriend. And [Aunt] and [Uncle] wanted to come, but they have to bring their kids. It kind of… blew up?”

I nod, slowly taking it all in.

Me: “Uh-huh. So, how does this change things up there? Our reservations are for your immediate family and me.”

Boyfriend: “Yeah, well, we’ll have our own room, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

It is, but I don’t want to say so because it seems shallow to not want to share a hotel room when I’m invited on a trip.

Me: “Okay, well, I already took off work, so I might as well go, right?”

The trip was an absolute disaster. We did not get our own room — even though we paid for it by ourselves — because the hotel was completely booked and the added family members didn’t want to stay elsewhere; we ended up sharing our room with his aunt and uncle and their three children. I’m pretty sure it was against policy to have seven people in a room that sleeps four but they never got caught and never offered to split the cost of the room, either.

We also never got our anniversary dinner date because his brother and girlfriend wanted to do a double date and wouldn’t take no for an answer; it later came out that they wanted to get away from their annoying, clingy family members. The irony escaped them.

My boyfriend was truly sorry and did his best to make it up to me when we got back. We dated for a while after that, but when the next family trip came around, I made my own bookings in my own name and put my foot down on sharing.

My husband is from England and I live in the USA, so after we get married, we begin the green card process. After about six months, we receive our interview invitation. When the day comes, we are seated with a stern-looking, middle-aged immigration agent who conducts our interview. We’re feeling a bit stiff and tense when he gets to the list of obligatory criminal background questions he has to ask my husband.

Agent: “Have you ever engaged in prostitution?”

Husband: “No.”

He then gets a look on his face that I know very well; he’s struggling not to make a joke. I try to signal, “DON’T YOU DARE!” with my eyes, but…

Husband: “I don’t think I’d be very good at it.”

There is a moment of silence. Then, the agent starts laughing.

Agent: “Fair enough! Let’s move on!”

The tension lifted, the agent finished the interview and told us to “have lots of babies,” and my husband is now on his way to becoming a permanent resident and then a US citizen!