There is a particular perk of marriage that nobody ever talks about. They don’t show it in the movies and you can’t find a Hallmark card that mentions it. Nonetheless, all I know is that I’m happy I finally have someone at home with me every night to bear witness to my Jeopardy skills.
You have no concept of the sadness that filled my life when I was a young, single man and I’d sit in my apartment at 7:30 every evening, absolutely crushing Jeopardy questions. I ran circles around the contestants, I made even three and four time returning champions look silly. But no one was there to see it. I could only tell tales of my heroics, but few believed me. Either that or they thought I was a loser for trying to wedge Jeopardy into unrelated conversations. It made me ponder the age old philosophical quandary: if you’re a beast at Jeopardy but nobody’s there to hear it, do you really have a life?
Oh well, I don’t have to worry about that now. Sure, sometimes my wife is in the kitchen or something while Jeopardy is on and I have to shout my answers so she can hear me being right. On occasion she even selfishly leaves the room to do laundry and misses out on witnessing me run the entire Colonial America category. But that’s alright, I made sure to tell her about it when she came back.
It’s not just a perk for me, by the way. It’s also a treat for her. After all, is there anything more enticing for a woman than watching her husband sit on the couch in sweat pants and get pumped about trivia? I imagine the only thing more romantic for her is when she gets to see me dominate in Scrabble.
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