- The insider information on any new stuff I'm interested in from WoC.
- The constant availability of conversation for my Geeky side.
- The fact that I had help making my first couple of characters.
- The fact that I can get all nostalgic about my first character a 2nd Ed. Dwarven Cleric of Clagden named Atlas, and his eyes don't glaze over. He asks interesting questions about the game mechanics of 2nd Ed.
- The fact that I'll never have to worry about him ignoring me so he can talk sports with his friends. (He just does that with me.)
There are also a few problems with being a DM's wife.
- I will occasionally, make a remark that hits one of his "hot buttons." Like say, I might just say something like "Your dwarf is just jealous because he'll never stand a chance of getting with all the awesomeness that is an Elvin woman." - Then I'm treated to the tireless diatribe about how elves are just wastes of f*(&^%$ space that need to die and make room for people (re: Dwarves) who can accomplish something meaningful in their lives.
- Half of our anniversary dinner is spent fighting over why 2nd Ed is better than 4th, and why 4th isn't worth the paper its printed on to anyone who loves THACO.
- The fact that I DO have to worry about him ignoring my attempts at conversation to talk about whatever he found out about the new system that's coming out.
- I am occasionally called upon to read and comment on his blog posts before they go up.
Let me clarify that last one. I have no problem with reading my husband's blog. It is entertaining and informative. It, much like the man who writes it, makes me laugh. That's one of the reasons I married the big lug. But, on some occasions I read a really entertaining post and am thrilled with it and as I turn to express how wonderful the post is I catch the title out of the corner of my eye. It never fails, this title stands out like a two dollar hooker in the middle of a country club polo match. It is always his brand of "funny," and sometimes they are completely appropriate for his post. Like Is Dungeons and Dragons a Race-Fueled Hate Machine? and Run, Damn you, Run. And then there are the titles that are a little weird, You Might Feel a Little Pressure and Other Lies told to me by Women. While these are somewhat erratic, they're amusing and I usually like them. The problems I have are with the titles that sound sort of ... well wrong.
Many times in my husband's time as a blogger these words have come out of my mouth. "You do realize that the cops may start knocking on our door soon if you leave that title." As well as "Okay, seriously do you even read this as you write it?" Sometimes the titles go out anyway, because, again he thinks they're funny. And they usually are, but a lot of the time, they have connotations that he either doesn't see or doesn't care about: Case in point: Listening to you breathe. There's been a few that he's changed at the last minute, "What do you mean she said no, son? Get a brick and make it work." "Why I can't be trusted near women," and "It'll only hurt for a minute dear, I promise."
Now most of these are still fine, but as I am a teacher I have to answer questions from my students about why my husband's titles sound like the problem in a bad Lifetime movie.
This particular rant is brought about by a discussion we had about a post my husband put up a few days ago. Playing with you is a full contact sport. Now, I actually love this post, mostly because I love hearing the stories of him as a new player before he became the all knowing God of D&D that we see before us today. (See honey, I DO love you.) But the original title was, She said no- but I went in anyway. When he told me this title, he didn't understand why my water suddenly went spewing from my mouth and nose. At his questioning glace I told him that title probably wasn't best because it sounded kind of well date-rapey. He then revised it to "He said no- but I went in anyway." When I told him that I thought that was just as bad, his only response was "Yeah, but it's funnier, right?"
That is when I mentally face palmed myself and gave up.