This is what marriage means.

I am very good at keeping secrets. Most of the time, anyway. But just about everything gets run by the husband, in all honesty. So it's slightly more difficult for me to keep things from him. But it can be done.

About a year and a half ago, he was off somewhere and I was at home watching one of my DVD sets of House. I had the windows opened up because there was a nice breeze going, but the blinds closed because it was dark outside. (Actually the blinds are just about always closed, because I immensely enjoy being nude.) So when the knock at the door occurred, it was too late for me to pretend in good conscience that I wasn't home. Luckily I was clothed. I paused my show and cautiously opened the door to a politely smiling but out-of-breath young man. The first thing he asked was, "Has anyone else come by here?" I of course said, "Noooo..." and would have raised a single eyebrow if I was lucky enough to have that ability. I did, however, have the ability to keep the door mostly closed to this probable rapist/burglar/mass murdere, so I did do that. Should've closed it all the way, but he just would have knocked again. I'm too nice. Apparently, his church youth group had a contest going through some company where whoever sold the most magazines would get to go on a vacation of some sort. He had the cool book of magazines and all.

I know, I know. But again, I'm too nice.

I bought a 2-year subscription to Spin. (We're big music fans.) On some level, I considered that money totally wasted at that point, and was resigned to just forgetting it ever happened. This was before the young gentleman had even left my driveway. On foot, might I add. Yes, I know. So first thing I did after this "event" was google the company that was supposedly sponsoring this contest, and guess what... Everything that came up said it was a scam. My next move bordered on overkill: I called our local police department to let them know that someone was selling fake magazine subscriptions door-to-door. The poor dispatcher told me the sheriff (our one officer at that point) was out on patrol, and that she'd let him know what was going on. She probably just could have yelled out the door and he would have heard, our town is that small. So my NEXT move definitely took the cake for crossing the line into "overkill." I decided to go out myself and find either the one cop in town or the gentleman scam artist and get my money back. I don't know how I was planning to go about doing that if I found him, but I was determined. After driving around aimlessly for a few minutes I realized how stupid this was, all of it, and returned home. When the hubby got home I didn't say a word about any of the night's happenings. Again, I was already considering that money wasted. So for the next few months I didn't think about it.

Then the first magazine came in. Imagine Hubby's surprise when a random music magazine starts showing up in our mailbox. Then his feeling of suspicion and confusion and fear appeared as well. Still, despite my almost equal level of surprise, there was no way in hell I was going to admit to my part in this. I mean, how embarassing would that be?! I gave money to a random stranger at our doorstep for a magazine subscription that I knew good and damn well was never going to happen! So the first month we passed it off as a fluke. Then the second magazine came in, the third, the fourth, the fifth, the sixth, the seventh, and I held firm that some random person in our life, perhaps a friend or family member, knowing our love of music must have gifted us a magazine subscription. That was why my name was on the address label and why we never received a bill or anything. It was indeed strange that we never got anything saying that we were receiving this as a gift, or that nobody we knew had told us that they were gifting us a subscription, but hey, why look a gift magazine in the mouth? We were just lucky I guess. Then I vaguely remembered that one of the guests at our wedding years ago had mentioned that they were going to be gifting us a magazine subscription of some sort, maybe they had forgotten about it and just now remembered! Of course, our screen door didn't have as many holes as those stories, so I would always end those conversations with a shrug and a flabbergasted head shake, saying "They'll stop coming eventually, I guess!" Hubby would walk away muttering to himself, still obviously confused. Then one more magazine showed up in our mailbox, and he finally hit the roof. "Why are we getting these freakin' magazines, where are they coming from, and most importantly, AM I GOING TO GET A BILL FOR A MAGAZINE I DIDN'T ASK FOR?!?!?!" The poor guy. He had no idea when he married me that this is the kind of thing he'd most likely have to be dealing with for the rest of his life. So I came clean, sort of. I told him that I had bought a magazine subscription off a suspicious door-to-door salesman and didn't say anything because it was most likely a scam and I didn't want him to be mad at me if it didn't ever come to anything. And when the magazines started showing up I didn't tell him why because I was astounded at my level of idiocy. He agreed it was indeed an idiotic sequence of events, but *sigh*-ed and let it go. He's awesome and understanding like that. This is why I married him, and any time I feel like I could stab him, these are the kinds of stories I remember. Besides, he does the same kind of stuff to me all the time, usually involving car parts ordered off Ebay or Craigslist. Except his general M.O. is to either order stuff without telling me and then something random gets brought home, or he asks for permission AFTER he's already ordered it. This was my first and only major "secret" purchase.

That dear hubby of mine doesn't necessarily think I need a blog. So for the mean time, my personal information, such as age, general location, and names of myself, the hubby, friends, family, and even my beloved pets will not be used. I'm sure that a super-determined person could still figure it out, and if you have that much interest then more power to you, but... I'm trying to wait a while before revealing this to at least the hubs. We all know it's easier to ask forgiveness than permission.   

He still doesn't know to expect the magazine to come in for two full years, though. I still shrug when he asks "When will we stop getting this??"  Who knows?