Pretend Husband Number One or: I Give You Ed Head

Of my four Pretend Husbands, Ed Head has known me the longest and, consequently, has suffered the most. The worst of his trials occurred early on, before a shrink finally put me on meds. Luckily, Ed Head had a mother who loved him, and as a result he is not mean to women. Not that he thinks of me as a woman. He thinks of me as more of a bison. At least that’s what he calls me (“Hello, You Big Bison”) when he isn’t calling me Vileness Itself or The World’s Most Remarkably Horrible Person.

The upside is that while he is calling me these hideous names, he’s also driving me to the doctor. The foot surgeon, brain surgeon, whatever’s required. Then, feeling sorry because I get the tumors while he, once a decade, gets the brief cold, he treats me to a big, festive dinner. I make fun of his Midwestern White Bread Terror of Flavor (always the chicken breast, never the thigh) while he mocks my Slavic Penchant For Dark (not just black bread, but jet black risotto, featuring squid in its own icky ink).  

If I had a brother, he’d be like Ed Head. Or, if I were a male, I would just be Ed Head. Which is to say that, despite our disdain for each other’s entrees, being with him feels, in the very best sense, like being alone, except I know that I’m not, because he is driving. Also, he reads and knows everything so whenever he talks I’m forced to expand my otherwise paltry vocabulary. Indeed, he’s the one who taught me lacuna (see previous post) and even now I recall how he used it:

“When I talk to you, Bison, it’s clear to me that you’re not stupid, but every once in a while I can’t help but notice this giant lacuna that looms in your brain."

Anyway, it was something like that, and hearing it (once I looked up lacuna) made me feel the best thing there is: Understood.  As often as I've tried to explain to my friends how Thoroughly I Understand Nothing, Ed Head is the only one who’s actually perceived this truth for himself. He not only sees my dreadful lacuna, he flagrantly marvels at its horrible depth. Which is why, when I fill out medical forms, I always put his name and number as the person to contact in case of emergency. In case of emergency? Who am I kidding? I've never not lived on the verge of emergence.  Ed Head knows this.  God bless Ed Head.