Keeping it Mysterious

I don't remember meeting my husband. As strange as it may sound to those of the "love at first sight, he's my own personal vampire" persuasion, it is just the truth. We were only eight years old when I moved in across the street. Further, I don't remember when he went from "ewwww gross" to "he's a good friend" to "madly in love." I do remember the moment I realized that I was in love with him, but by then the damage had been done, and it was an imperceptibly slow process to that point. So when I read in a magazine that the secret to a happy marriage is continuing to find your spouse mysterious, I could only determine that if that psychobabble garbage was indeed true, we were pretty much screwed. There's not a lot of mystery to someone you've known forever, no exes to pop up and surprise when you've watched them leave for every single date from your kitchen window. I figured we were very nearly done with the "mystery" of marriage before we were married!

Imagine my surprise then, when a few months back Daniel came in the room an announced that instead of playing basketball with his buddies, they were going to play dodgeball for the next several weeks. Just as the words "That's too bad then, that you won't have anywhere to play for a few weeks. Only sadistic jerks like dodgeball" were escaping my lips, I realized he was saying "I'm so excited! I love dodgeball! This is going to be awesome."
Uh oh. What?
"You love dodgeball? You LOVE dodgeball?! Are you serious!?" I felt like he had just dropped a bomb on me, and in a way he had. I was a total nerd growing up, and I was very much serious about the fact that only jerks enjoyed dodgeball--I could picture them with their rock-hard red kickballs, laughing as they pummeled you repeatedly and you begged to go sit on the sidelines.
I decided years ago that you have to have something wrong with you to enjoy beating weaker people with balls. I believe that with all my heart. To find out the very man I was married to was the type who would have hit me and trampled on my self-esteem shook me to the core. I'm still coming to terms with the fact that Daniel can be a decent man and like dodgeball. As stupid as it sounds, it still hurt. I just have to keep repeating to myself that maybe not all people who like dodgeball end up in prison.

I'd pretty much gotten over the dodgeball thing when we went bowling. Every two to three years Daniel and I forget that we totally stink at bowling and we think it will be fun. Then we go to the bowling alley, it smells like old beer and cigaretts, we both suck at the sport, I rip off both of my thumbnails inside a germy disgusting ball, try not to think about wearing shoes a million people have sweated in, I realize I enjoy the company but not the game, and we go home with sore wrists deciding not to do that again for a while. It works for us. There is nothing wrong with this system. Imagine my surprise that on the way home from the bowling alley, Daniel turns to me and says "I think I'd like to buy my own bowling ball."
"Yeah, with a score like 110 I'd say you have a career blossoming, is the stub of my thumnail bleeding where it ripped?"
"I think it would be fun to do this more often. You know, learn how to be better at it."
"So you're not kidding about the ball?"
"No"
"hmmm. I just don't think I know you anymore. A bowling ball. I am so confused."

It would seem that there still are mysteries in our marriage, and they all involve sports. Now please make it stop!!! I'm not the surprise type, and I'm tired of ducking in fear every time Daniel picks up one of Sam's playground balls.