It’s not considered stalking if it’s your own husband, right? Right?

I like to sit in the closet and sniff my husband’s shirts.

I met my husband when I was in high school, and without going into all the mushy details that will inevitably make you want to barf, he’s the best. I didn’t date him in high school. I’m not sure if you’re familiar with how much of a nerd I am, but I wasn’t cool enough to be dated by human beings in high school. We had one class together, and I stared at him. My gross eyes practically swallowing him whole as I sat across the room with the other uncool kids. He was funny and cool. So cool. That was basically all I knew because I wasn’t about to come out of hiding and speak to him. everything in my past had taught me not to talk to good looking guys. You only ogled them from a safe hiding place like a troll, or if you were brave you could sniff them while walking past on a pretend errand for something on the bookshelf behind them. I may have sniffed him. I couldn’t say.

We started dating in college, and it was everything I had ever dreamed of…but with a real boyfriend. He turned out to be intelligent, and as nice as I had imagined him to be. He was respectful to his parents, and considerate towards those around him. I practically swooned every time he walked into the room. And he had curly hair! I grew up being obsessed with boys with green eyes and curly hair. Unnf, that mess is my jam. I swear. I had outgrown my love of boys with braces by high school, so his lack of orthodontia didn’t count against him. Some people can’t help having straight teeth naturally.  He didn’t have the nerdy glasses that I had always wanted either, but nobody is perfect, and I could always buy light bulbs with a low wattage and ruin his eyesight myself.

Turns out he liked messy girls that eat like men so well he chose to marry me of his own volition. No one had to force him into it.

I swear.

Fast forward a billion years, and I still act the same way when it comes to him. I stare at my secret pictures that I took of him while he was sleeping. It’s okay, we’re married! I’m allowed. I think. Just like I’m allowed to get in the closet, put on his clothes, and sniff them all I want. It’s not a violation of personal space! He agreed to it when he married me. Like, not with his mouth in words, but it was implied. I write steamy fanfiction about us, and read it. It’s not gross because he’s my husband. I even draw husband fanart.

My grodie drawing of us as cats with a double rainbow and unicorn in the background. There’s a story that goes along with this, but that’s for another time.

Sometimes I think I have a problem, but I’m not sure. I have nothing to compare it to, and he doesn’t seem to mind. But he hasn’t read any of the fanfiction, and I haven’t offered it up.  Then again he doesn’t know I cut off one of his curls while he was sleeping, and keep it in a little envelop.

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, or get me arrested.


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