Married to Superman

I’m married to Superman.

It’s been a secret, in our neighborhood (although a few people have noted that I have a couple of Lois Ann Lane’s initials, and her chosen career), but for the most part, the secret’s been well kept. But I thought I’d share it with you, Blogosphere, because I’m tired of keeping the secret.

I first found out I was married to Superman when I went to a little “internship” for spouses and fiancées of soon-to-be cops. (I was a fiancée at the time. Chris was the soon-to-be cop, attending the police academy.) They told us soon-to-be spouses that there were several things we’d need to know about our husbands, the cops. The speaker said that most people go into law enforcement for one of two reasons: either they want to boss people around (these are the jerky cops) or they want to be Superman. And either reason will probably cause them some grief down the road.

I realized, then, that Chris fell into the Superman category. These were the cops who truly wanted to help everyone – wanted to save the day – and truly thought they could. They were the types who would pull over and help stranded motorists; the types who would pay someone’s toll if they didn’t have the money; the types who would make sure a stranded woman got to a phone to call for help.

This is Chris.

Of course, the second part of the “internship” was about how we had to be there when they realized they weren’t Superman. The speaker said this is a rude awakening for many men (and women) in law enforcement, and it can send them into somewhat of a downward spiral of cynicism if they’re not ready for it. So we were supposed to help.

I’d have to say, Chris hit that wall – he went into juvenile probation for many years, thinking he could “save” these kids, but realized, after more than 10 years (and shootings, and arrests, and fights, and abandonment) that that wasn’t going to happen. He realized he wasn’t Superman.

But he still is to me.

He still pulls over and helps stranded motorists (pushing cars up hills in the middle of the night). He still pays someone’s toll if they can’t. He still makes sure stranded individuals have a ride before he’ll leave them further stranded.

He does fall a little short on the flying thing. And he looks the same with or without the glasses. But he looks pretty good in the blue underwear. …

I’m married to Superman.

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