How do I love thee? Spiders.

 

There was a boy I used to hang out with back in high school. I remember one day when we were juniors and he stood up to walk me from our honors English class. I got up, grabbed my L.L. Bean pack, and pulled it up onto the strap of the bubbled romper (what? it was the 90s!) I’d worn against the heat that day. Without breaking eye contact as he listened to my story, he reached forward, flicked something on my strap, and stepped on it.

 

I looked down to see a gigantic mangled mess of a spider.

 

I have always viewed that as an example of superior spider killing. Without even making me aware of it, he managed to remove and eliminate the big, creepy spidey that was, apparently, about 1/4″ from the bare flesh of my shoulder. (This thought still makes me shudder.)

 

Now, when I met my husband, we were in college on the gulf coast of Florida and, while we battled fire ants and palmetto bugs there, we don’t recall ever seeing spiders in our dorms. It was a non-issue.

 

Later, we lived in South Florida and, while tiny little lizards sometimes made their way into the homes (and didn’t bother me, by the way), we didn’t deal with spiders there either. (I’m making Florida sound pretty appealing, eh? ;) )

 

All this to say– I married this guy without knowing anything, good or bad, about his spider-killing prowess.

 

If I’d been expecting spidey-elimination skills akin to those of my high school friend, I would have been sorely disappointed. As it turns out, I married a man not much fonder of the 8-legged fiends than I am. (He tells a chilling tale of an unfortunate run-in with a jumping wolf spider as a child… *shiver*)

 

My guy? Frequently misses the spider on the first shot. He absolutely needs to have a shoe or fat wad of tissue (unlike my own father who I’ve witnessed just grab a spider with his bare fingers… *gag*.) He may even have jumped back in surprise a time or two when one of those fat uglies popped up somewhere.

 

But I love that about him, too.

 

Why, you might wonder? How could I appreciate these, by all arguments, inferior spider killing abilities?

 

Well, because he gets me, for one.

 

When I wrinkle my nose and tell tales of the hideous spider who crawled up the drain, he doesn’t roll his eyes at me. And, when he later encounters said spider himself, he affirms its atrocity and the horror of having to face it. He doesn’t belittle my fears or make fun of me for overreacting. There’s something nice about that.

 

Even more than that, though, is this–

 

Even though my husband loathes spiders, he’ll still face them and kill them for me.

 

Eliminating something that have no effect on you is nice, but it isn’t really that difficult. For example, I have absolutely zero fear or discomfort around mice, so my offering to venture into your laundry room to try to track one down doesn’t take much effort of my part. But if I offer to knock down all the cobwebs lurking in the dark corners? That’s love, baby.

 

He loves me. He loves me enough to take on the spiders.

 

I love him, too.

 

 

*Note: I considered putting a picture of a creepy spider into this post, for impact. But I love you all too much for that. You’re welcome. ;)

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