One night I was woken from a deep sleep by a terrible sound – a horribly rumbling noise.  Sean was sleeping on his back and snoring.  Normally it doesn’t bother me much, but this was louder than usual and I couldn’t go back to sleep.

I generally try not to wake him completely.  I gently poked him…nothing.  I poked him a bit harder…still nothing.  I shoved my fist under his shoulder blade…no reaction.  Finally I decided I was going to have to wake him, at least a little.

Poke, poke…”Honey, roll over.”

“Zzzz….”

POKE, poke…”Honey, roll over.”

“Mmmmhhh..?”

POKE, POKE…”HONEY, roll OVER.”

“Mmm…ok….”  At which point he proceeded to roll over a complete 360 degrees, and onto his back again.

I couldn’t even be mad since he did exactly what I asked!  I guess sometimes you just can’t win.

When Sean and I first got together he was a smoker, and I come from a family where no one is.  When it became apparent he was going to stick around for a while I told him I just didn’t see myself in a long-term relationship with someone who smoked.

He sweetly decided to quit cold turkey.  (Though I suspect he was also influenced by the need to walk down a long hall and 2 flights of stairs to smoke outside in the rain.)  He went through a lot of suckers during that time.  He was a bit of a bear, but all in all I think he did rather well kicking such an addiction.

Months later I was on the phone (I don’t actually remember with whom) and was looking for something.  For some reason I thought that it (I have no clue what “it” was…) might be in Sean’s messenger bag.  While still talking on the phone I reached down and started rummaging through his bag.  (Note:  Yes, this was an invasion of privacy.  I have no defense.)  In my peripheral I could see him hovering, his hands fluttering nervously.  It wasn’t until I reached the cigarettes in the bag that I figured out why.  I calmly finished the conversation and set down the phone.

Sean was in quite a state…stammering apologies and excuses.  The funny thing is that I wasn’t really upset, just disappointed.  Though as I can attest to (my parents are masters), disappointment can be far worse.

We both learned an important lesson that day – he learned he probably can’t hide anything from me (oh, and he hasn’t smoked since), and I learned to ask permission before digging through his stuff.

And to this day when I can’t find something Sean tells me it’s in his bag next to the cigarettes.