I caught a glimpse of the man I married this week. My husband came home to a toddler tantrum – I had my son freaking out in my arms – and he said, in a positive tone, “What’s wrong, buddy?” My toddler told him. I told him. He took the toddler from my arms and proceeded to work out a solution, all without any evidence of a scowl. It’s a phenomenon I like to call “Happy Matt.”
“Happy Matt” used to be my husband’s only persona. When I met him, his job wasn’t too demanding; we were childless so we had the freedom to do what we wanted; and we were childless – did I mention that? When he met me for dates, he was happy. When we talked on the phone, he was happy. The only time he wasn’t happy when we were dating was when he called me at 3 a.m, frantic because his apartment was on fire. (I didn’t even hear the phone ring.) Soon after, he moved out of that apartment and into mine, and he was happy.