Husband-person

...henceforth referred to as HP.

HP is 26, born on Christmas Day. He has never forgiven retailers for hyping Christmas shopping up so much that parking becomes nigh-impossible in the weeks leading up to his birthday.

He likes yelling at people on the internet, being a writing and music junkie, and singing songs by randomly substituting my name into the lyrics.

One of the important things to note is that he is actually half Japanese. His father came over from Okinawa, met his mother in the south, and had two thoroughly ridiculous children, of which HP is the elder. So he has family over there and understands a smattering of the language, mostly in ludicrous insults and declarations of his own manliness.

Thankfully, neither his Okinawan nor Osakan family were hurt in the earthquakes or subsequent disasters.

Anyway, he studies learning. Via data analysis or educational software, he researches how, to what degree and under what circumstances people learn. Got his master's in it, in fact. Or he will, once his labwork is done this summer.

As for our relationship: I bring him instant noodles in the lab at 2am when all he's had to eat that day are beer and science. When I try to cheer him up by dressing in a skanky bee costume and only then think to go buy his favorite beer, I just go to the liquor store in the bee costume. Date nights often consist of working while the other plays the latest console game we're into and criticizing their in-game morality.

A supervillain and a robot crashed our wedding ceremony, which was conducted by Benjamin Franklin.

In short, we're kind of epic together. Which is why I have the utmost confidence in following him literally halfway across the globe.

He applied to the JET program and was listed as an ALT alternate, which was a disappointment and led to the getting-beer-in-a-bee-costume incident. It was the worst possible news for him, as that left us with uncertain housing prospects and tough job opportunities for him. I could quit at any time, but his job offers were for Adult Jobs, things that were salaried and would require a move on our part. We were still holding out for Japan, though, and the everyday tension was palpable. A very polite e-mail to the consulate told him that, while they couldn't be more specific, he was in the top third of the alternate list.

Which made waiting even tougher.

All of my Ask The Internet research recommended holding out and offered heartfelt "Hang in there!" posts that would be perfectly at home on a motivational poster. So I remained optimistic. Much to his irritation. He prefers to be realistic and vaguely reminiscent of Eeyore. And I made a vow to myself that if he did get placement after all, I was entitled to be gloriously smug for at least a week.

Of course, 25 days after receiving the initial e-mail, HP got The Call.

"Either I'm off the waitlist," he IMed via Gchat, "or something's wrong with my paperwork."

I was at work, so my cellphone was in my purse while I took out my aggrevation on United Healthcare's automated phone system. When I'd abused it enough to talk to a real person and get my questions answered, the following was waiting for me in Gchat:

HP: OI WHY DON'T YOU ANSWER YOUR PHONE WOMAN


Because I'm at work, sir. Like a responsible employee. So I told him just that.

HP: FINE, I GUESS I'LL JUST GO TO JAPAN BY MYSELF THEN
me: WHAAAT
HOLY CRAP
HP: WHEN I RETURN TO AMERICA, I HOPE YOU'LL HAVE LEARNED TO ANSWER YOUR PHONE
me: Did they say where?!!
HP: No.
me: When will we know?!
HOLY CRAP
CAN I PLEASE SAY I TOLD YOU SO
HP: 3 weeks or so
YOU CAN SAY WHATEVER YOU LIKE I CAN'T HEAR YOU BECAUSE YOU DON'T ANSWER YOUR PHONE


And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how he told me that we were moving to Japan come August.

I couldn't have pictured it happening any other way.