Is it normal to be obsessed with your husband? Define normal...
A nice long story for you this week - enjoy the obsession.
Is it normal to be utterly obsessed with your husband?
To not be able to function for half a day without feeling like you’re going to go mad if he’s not home?
Not only that but when Oscar is home, I feel like I must be in his space and look over to confirm that he’s still real and with me. Sometimes, I feel like I have to force myself physically to keep myself busy so I can give him a break. I’m always wrapped around him like he’s my lifeline or looking for him out around the house for a kiss or to bathe when I know he’s busy.
I don’t want to be clingy or feel like I’m suffocating him, but…
I can’t help it.
Oscar is just too beautiful, and I have fallen in love with him every day since we met six months ago.
Sometimes, I don’t know where I end and where he begins. I don’t even like him going places without me because I’m jealous of those who get to stare and be in his presence. It’s a sickness I’ve been reluctant to tell anyone about because I know I come off as crazy and obsessive.
It’s also the only secret I’ve kept from him because I don’t want him to know.
It’s a heavy burden, mainly because we tied the knot one month ago.
I had to think of every single god in existence because, honestly, I knew from the moment our eyes met at that coffee shop—as cliché as it sounds—that there was no mistake, he's the one for me. I thought getting married and having that rock sitting on my finger would help with this madness, but it’s only gotten worse.
Luckily, I wasn’t a theater kid for nothing, and I stare up from the latest romance novel I’m writing.
Ten more minutes, five if I’m really lucky, and traffic from the city where he works as a Hedge Fund Manager isn't too bad. I swallow the butterflies threatening to spill as I get up to smooth my dress.
My heart is already fluttering, beating recklessly as if my husband had been on a one-year business trip rather than being gone for half a day. He even loves me enough to take half a day on Thursdays and Fridays to spend more time with me.
Knowing how lonely it can be as a full-time writer.
Often, my love-sick brain dares to tinker with the notion that maybe Oscar comes home early just because he misses me as much as I miss him. After all, we tend to stick to one another like glue when he gets home. I’ve convinced myself it’s just a honeymoon phase, which I’m not complaining about.
It must be because no one on Earth is more obsessed with their significant other than me.
Though I’d be lying if I were to say I wished it never ends.
The familiar sound of the door unlocking makes my ears perk up as I quickly dart to the door like a puppy waiting for their owner. Not a second later, the door opens, and I’m greeted with what I know for certain is a picture-perfect image of a man.
If you look up the word perfect in the dictionary, the example would be my husband’s face.
The smile is already spreading like wildfire as I throw myself at him. “Welcome home, Oscar!”
He quickly catches me, shutting the door as he kisses my forehead. I practically melted into his embrace. “Fuck, Rina. How did I get so lucky to have such a sweet beautiful wife greeting me at the door every day?”
I’m the lucky one, really.
I only laugh, looping my arms around his broad shoulders as he practically hauls me to the living room with both arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I feel like I can breathe again for the first time since he left this morning, which I know is ridiculous.
“How was your day?” I ask, trying my hardest to appear normal and not like an insecure lover of sorts.
“Terrible, I was counting down the minutes until I could come home to you,” he grumbles, and it’s hard not to fall deeper in love with him when he says stuff like that, especially with how serious he sounds. I manage to chuckle instead, getting on my tippy toes to kiss him on his five o’clock shadow.
“On the bright side, our trip to the Maldives is just around the corner,” I say, hoping it will cheer him up.
“Speaking of which, the airline might call later to upgrade our tickets to first class. Do you mind getting it if they call? I’m going to take a quick shower first, I smell gross from a long day at the office” he concurs, scrunching his nose as I shake my head.
“No, you smell amazing,” I grin but let him go anyway, though a bit reluctantly.
While I’m tempted to join him in the shower, I still have dinner to prep tonight, consisting of my husband’s favorite—Rigatoni Bolognese and a side of garlic bread. Sure enough, the travel agent did call with the fantastic news.
They’re able to squeeze us in at the last minute into first-class. I quickly put them on speaker, unlocking Oscar’s phone to write this all down before I forgot the itinerary number and other details when I realized he had yet to exit the last app he was on.
I rolled my eyes with a silly smile on my face to see his love of scrolling endlessly on that site when suddenly, I realized he had just posted something half an hour ago. More than likely, probably when he was on the train.
For a moment, everything freezes as I read the post title:
“What should I do to hide how infatuated I am with my wife?”