In The Presence of Greatness

Yesterday I made Super Hubs take Rock Star to the orthodontist for his appointment, because of my bad experience the last time. I have been dreading this visit for the past month, fearful they will put in my son’s mouth the awful spring-things or whatever they are called and charge us an enormous amount of money. Above the other enormous amount of money we’ve already paid them for the whole orthodontic treatment. I’ve forced Rock Star wear his head gear 20 hours a day since our last Appointment From Hell, but I just could not face going to that office again this week; being reprimanded and shamed for having a son who is lax about following the treatment plan. I was in a tender placed emotionally.

So Super Hubs went with Rock Star to the appointment, and had an incredibly positive time. He came home raving about the office and the wonderful doctor and wonderful hygienists who couldn’t have been more kind and who told him that Rock Star was progressing along just fine and wouldn’t need springs applied, and of course we would not be charged any extra money. Absolutely not. I think they might have even offered him champagne. Everyone at that hateful office was just lovely to Super Hubs, because people are always lovely to Super Hubs, giving him the V.I.P. treatment wherever he goes. People save their horrid behavior for just me.

I don’t understand it. But it’s been this way for the entire length of our marriage; even though I, too, am a very nice person. But when Super Hubs walks into a room, strangers roll out the red carpet and give him standing ovations and sing, “For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow.” He finds favor wherever he goes, like he’s Gandhi or something.

We went to a party recently for Super Hub’s roommate from Notre Dame. And people that had known my husband from his college days, practically fell over themselves with glee to meet me and grill me with questions: “What is it like to be married to a man like Super Hubs? Aren’t you the luckiest woman on the planet??” It was so weird.

My husband is an incredible person. He’s the quintessential Mr. Nice Guy. But it’s not like he’s won a Nobel Peace Prize. He just happens to be so wonderfully likable. Which, as his wife, is both a blessing and a curse.

It was a blessing yesterday at the orthodontist’s, because we did not get charged the extra $300 for springs as threatened. But still, I resent the duplicitous attitude of the office. “Did you tell them that they were very rude to me last time and hurt my feelings??” I interrogated Super Hubs when he got home. He looked a bit sheepish, then said, “Uh, no, I forgot. But they did give me two packs of gum. And a plastic water bottle.”