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My husband doesn’t get my humor. Like, at all! I’m a pretty happy, jokey kind of person. When I talk to friends on the phone, there is lots of laughing. I crack jokes and find myself absolutely hilarious. It might come as surprising to you that I married someone who doesn’t find me funny at all!

But he doesn’t. He adores me. He treasures me. But he doesn’t find me funny. He says, “I know other people find you funny.” And he’ll watch me with a bewildered look of happiness on his face while I crack jokes and laugh at them, and he does laugh with me at times, it’s never laughing at the joke.

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My husband has two sides to his personality–goofy and dead solemn. The dead solemn part of his personality is the one I enjoy the most. It’s just so determined and unflappable that I love trying to poke a hole in it.

For example, we’ll be sitting on the couch together and my husband will be reading a book. He sits there, book in front of him, solemn expression on his face. I find him heart-stoppingly handsome, especially when he’s in one of his solemn moods.

Me: Hey, honey?

He lifts his eyes and turns them toward me. No change in expression.

Me: What are you reading?

He says the title, waits for me to have a reaction, then his eyes slowly turn back to his book.

Me: Hey, honey?

His eyes turn slowly toward me again.

Me: Tell me I’m pretty.

Him: You’re gorgeous. And I love you. (Pause.) Okay?

Me: Okay.

His eyes slowly turn back to his book. Still no change in his deadpan expression.

Me: I think you’re gorgeous, too.

Him (still looking at his book): I know.

Me: You know that you’re gorgeous or that I think it?

Him: Both.

Me: Isn’t that vain?

Him: I’m a man. All men think they’re gorgeous. Doesn’t matter how old or unshowered we are, we think we’re gorgeous.

Me: Lucky I agree.

He turns his eyes toward me again.

Him: Am I going to read?

Me: You could. If you really wanted to.

His eyes turn slowly toward his book again, but his hand slides over and takes mine. He tugs me closer.

Me: I mean, if you really, really wanted to read, I wouldn’t stop you or anything.

Him: Let me finish this chapter, and then we can turn in. (Glances at watch.) It’s late.

Me: Kiss me first.

Him: (kisses me, and a glitter of humor comes into his eye) Now, I’m going to read to you aloud until I’m done this chapter.

Me: Heavens, no! You and your depressing books!

He starts to read aloud anyway, because he knows that I hate it and he enjoys teasing me. He follows me around the house while I try to escape his loud reading of some dismal biography. Eventually the book is abandoned, about a paragraph before the end of the chapter.

Him: Honey?

Me: Hmm?

Him: You’re awfully pretty.

It’s the utterly solemn side to his personality that has no ability to understand my humor, and I don’t think I’d trade it for the world.

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