Picture this. We're sprawled out on our bed in the coolest part of the house to escape the early summer heat. That is the polite way of saying we were lethargic and sweaty. Oh, magical words!
Anyway. We're both quietly entertaining ourselves on our tablets and all of a sudden B flies into a rage. Full on zero to sixty, and I am blinking rapidly trying to figure out what he has discovered I've done now. I'm not going to lie...I am an ask questions later kind of woman, which means that I normally get a lot of angry phone calls once the media gets wind of my shenanigans. Because every single person I know is a fucking tattle-tale. That is beside the point.
So in among his ranting, in which he is calling me many unflattering names and frequently uses the word hypocrite, I discern that he is actually levelling a very serious charge at me.
He has accused me of cheating.
At which point my standard confused-but-understanding demeanor in these types of "What have you done?" moments is replaced by an overwhelming desire to kick his junk up into his ribcage. Cheating? Oh FUCK no.
We yell. We curse. We slam a lot of doors. There are a few angry tears. At that point, I decide enough is enough and I take a drive to calm down. When I return home I find him on my laptop with my tablet nearby and upon questioning his choice of activities (paraphrased), he tells me that he is checking my browser history. When I offer to open up my email so he can further invade my privacy, he looks at me like I'm completely nuts and tells me that would prove nothing and then reminds me that he expected this sort of thing after our wedding.
At this point I stop mid-protest and Things Are Starting To Click. This is the third time he has brought up our wedding. His dismissal of my email just doesn't make sense. And, looking back, I notice that he has always used certain terms and phrases, while avoiding others.
"Err....you don't think I am having an affair at all, do you?"
"What the hell are you talking about? Of course not. I was talking about Crazy Formula."
I present to you, dear reader, Crazy Formula.
"This is over a GAME?" The wedding comments sink in fully now as the day of our wedding was the day I finally admitted to counting cards. Surprising absolutely no one, this does nothing to mollify me. "YOU ARE THE BIGGEST ASSHOLE EVER."
"It took you two minutes to figure out the last puzzle!! I watched you! It took me SEVEN FULL DAYS to get it! You can't blame me for thinking you cheated."
"AT NO POINT DID YOU STOP AND WONDER WHY I WASN'T TYPICALLY SELF-RIGHTEOUS ABOUT BEING SMARTER THAN YOU?"
"Hey. You're not smarter than I am."
"I AM SO! I AM THE SMARTEST PERSON IN THIS ROOM AND PERHAPS THE BUILDING. PROBABLY. AND YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF."
And that is how we found ourselves arguing very loudly and at great length about the argument. Which, I'm told, is finally fucking meta.