Husband Tag

(This title, wherever I have seen it, feels like some sort of strange playground game. Like, maybe the wife is it, but the husband has to run around catching people, or you have to run together holding hands and you freeze when you're caught until someone goes under your legs? Maybe I just have too many mixed up elementary school memories.)

(And this picture above? Well, it's from Cancun 4 years ago, and in my defense, I was five months pregnant and wearing John's shorts because I wouldn't buy more than one pair of maternity capris for a pregnancy that was going to end in December. And it's the first picture I could find in our files that had just the two of us together.)

Anyway, I've been tagged, by Katie, to fill out this meme (?--is that what they're called?) about my husband, John-Johnnery.

What is his name? John Spencer Wells (and whenever he's writing it, he puts "III" after his name. He is not the third of anything, but it makes him feel official and gives him a little chuckle. Who am I to deny him this tiny goofy pleasure?)
How long have you been together? We've been married for almost seven years. I always get one year ahead, though, on our anniversaries, so I've been thinking that we've been married for 7-1/2 years instead of 6-1/2 years for quite a while.
How long did you date? From our first date to the time we got married was over five years. However, the first two dates were not romantic, but rather utilitarian in nature. He needed someone to double with, or I needed a date to a girls' choice dance and the boy I liked had already been asked--that kind of stuff. And two years of that was his mission, which I don't think can technically count as dating, since . . . well, you know. . . we were in different countries and he couldn't date. But still, it took us 18 months after his mission to get married. He's cute, but it took quite the sales pitch to convince me.
How old is he? 29, bless his heart.
Who eats more? Probably him, but if I did, why would I admit to my piggyness? I wouldn't.
Who said I love you first? I think I did. That sounds like something I would do.
Who's taller? He is, by a good inch and a half.
Who can sing better? Well, this is complicated. He is a tenor, and tenors are really much more useful than altos, so he wins on that count. And his voice quality is probably better than mine. However, I can read music and pick out my part and carry my part on my own, which he can't do. So maybe that's a draw? (Are we keeping score? Is this a competition?)
Who is smarter? I thought I was for most of our lives (I was worried that he wasn't quite smart enough for me), but I'm beginning to think that this whole doctor thing probably gives him a little bit of an edge.
Who does the laundry? I do, with quite a bit of help. (Or maybe he does, with a little bit of help from me.)
Who pays the bills? This is one of those chores that he keeps trying to turn over to me, but I don't want to do. Luckily, the computer pays most of those annoying bills automatically. Phew.
Who sleeps on the right side? Whichever side of the bed I'm on IS the right side. Therefore, he always gets up on the wrong side of the bed. (That was obnoxious. I didn't know how to determine which was right and which was left. So, instead of explaining, I was annoying. Typical.)
Who mows the lawn? We mow together. I run the mower, and he runs the trimmer. I love to mow lawns, but I hate that fiddly trim work.
Who cooks dinner? I do.
Who drives? He drives. I navigate. I love to navigate.
Who is more stubborn? I am more unreasonable, but he is more stubborn. That's a fair balance, I think.
Who kissed who first? I would still be waiting for him to kiss me if I hadn't kissed him first. That's what I mean by stubborn.
Who asked who out first? He asked me out first, but I couldn't go. (I didn't really want to go, and I had a valid excuse.) I asked him out next, and he could go. So which one counts?
Who proposed? He did, but he says I brought up that whole marriage topic first. I refuse to remember that conversation.
Who has more friends? I don't know. The boy has people that just know him and like him and come out of nowhere. I'd like to claim that one, but I'm not sure I can.
Who is more sensitive? Sensitive to what? Nagging? Him. Children's whining? Him. Implied insults? Me. Political hot topics? Me.
Who has more siblings? I do, with eight total kids. His family also has eight, but 5 of them are only half-siblings, so that total count really is only 5-1/2, right? So I win again.
Who wears the pants? All right. I've got to take issue with this phrase. The pants? If I wear the skirt of the family, aren't I still every bit as much the boss? Yes.

Perhaps I've given more side notes, explanations, and soapbox drama that anyone wanted from this questionnaire, but if it was going to be filled out, I was going to do it thoroughly.