Married to The Geek

I woke up at 4AM earlier to see the hubby hunched over something, his hands busy, his attention drawn to the little thing that he’s been tinkering in the last few days.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your POV), it’s not porn. The hubby was busy painting his new collection of Dust Tactics figures which was sent to him from the US by his cousin. In his tiny work table lay an assortment of tanks, war vehicles and action figures — all waiting for a fresh coat of paint as he decides on “the look” of his “team.”

Painted Dust Tactic Miniatures

Painted Dust Tactic Miniatures

fabulously fierce! (my husband will hate this caption)

fabulously fierce! (my husband will hate this caption)

we had your tank surrounded!

we had your tank surrounded!

Yes, while other women worry about their men spending time on bars or football games or porn sites or hanging out too much with his buddies, I worry about my husband and his lifetime membership to the Holy Brotherhood of Geekdom.

I met the man I married that way. When we reached our first year together, he started carrying a small tool box whenever he visited me at home. At first, I thought it was because he wanted to play carpenter, fix the various odds and ends on my leaky house and maybe gain generous plus points from the future-in-laws. I was wrong. The danged tool box contained an assortment of miniatures for a role playing game called Mage Knights. I didn’t get to learn how it’s played but I do know it’s something where you need to roll a dice and start moving the tiny mythical creatures on a make believe world projected in a small table and cut-out styro representations of castles and buildings. One day, my sister The Queen saw the figures and mistook them for the old action figures we had at home and demonstrated the way how we play back then — by banging the hapless toys against each other. I saw the hubby’s jaw dropped. I knew then that he was a keeper.

By the time we celebrated our fourth year being together, the then-boyfriend became comfortable enough to invite me to see him play during tournaments, like “Friday Night Magic” and the usual “Mage Knights” battles held at his favorite hobby shop. There, I got acquainted with the rest of the boys: their shoulders hunched, full concentration, speaking in a language that no girl can understand and definitely lost in their exciting, little worlds. At times, I will grow bored and would try to give the then-BF the evil eye (hoping we’d just leave and just watch a movie). But my evil eye is no match for his “grand quest” — at times, he is lost in his world, probably rescuing an elf, battling an evil wizard in his alternate universe.

After we got married, I got sick and had to be confined to a hospital. Probably, the hubby took pity of me and my sagging self esteem that he proceeded to cheer me up the best way he know how. He proceeded to teach me “Magic” card game after which I promptly demolished his ass (this while hooked on a dextrose and with limited hand usage to control the cards I was dealt with), not only once but thrice! He never played “Magic” with me again.

The husband and I don’t have kids yet, but our small living space already had tons of toys: collectible superhero (and villains!) action figures, a limited edition Barbie or two, graphic novels, comic books and his role playing games action figures. There are odds and ends in one side, and a stack of manga as well as collectible small figures, paints and other what-nots heaped on another side.

Our idea of a perfect Saturday afternoon is this: me, sprawled in bed while reading the latest installment of “Suicide Squad – Death of the Family” while he will be on his tiny corner, painting his miniatures. A possible variation would be a trip to the mall looking at the latest available action figure or hunting for a unique Joker miniature to add to his collection.

Yes, I married a man who does not play sports, who doesn’t care about what he wears and one that is not hung-up on cars and the various gadgets men these days usually crave for. The guy I married is one who is happily contented with his “Dust Tactics”, his “Joker” collection or reading the latest DC New 52s installment. He is one who serves me breakfast or even dinner in bed whenever I feel well. He is NOT the guy that I need to worry about or track on my cellphone, afraid that he might be drunk in a bar somewhere.

Yes, I am married to the Quintessential Geek and I love it. I love how his mind works beyond what the eyes can see. That he can visualize a world where wizards and warriors fight over a kingdom, where evil sorcerers and trolls lurk in a dark forest. I love that he taught me “Magic” and made me feel like one of the boys when I was sick and miserable — this he accomplished by not being easy on me while we play. I love that he knows the Superman mythos and that he doesn’t make that stupid joke about Supes underwear being worn on the outside. I love that he can explain to me the back story of Joker, making me vaguely interested with Batman, that conceited jerk of a millionaire.

Some wise-ass said that “Geeks will inherit the earth…” I think he might be right.

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