otp: irony

it’s kinda funny how the fact that Ed is a forensic scientist means that he could make his crimes completely untraceable and literally just constantly get away with murder etc. and never get caught or pinned for any crimes but instead he’s out here like ME! THAT WAS ME I DID THAT! YES, ‘TWAS I, THE RIDDLER! MARK THAT DOWN THAT ONE WAS ME.

like if someone went to the GCPD to confess to committing one of his crimes in order to get the credit for it this shimmery green attention seeker would probably storm the GCPD like YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH, THAT WAS /MY/ CRIME! MY SIGNATURE IS ALL OVER IT YOU SECOND STRING, HALFWIT THIEF! JIM DO YOU HONESTLY BELIEVE THIS HACK??? I MADE IT QUITE OBVIOUS! FOXY BACK ME UP HERE


Our relationship is one built on ironies. The first of which was my intentions. I let it be known, early on, that I had no plans for a relationship. This was to be, I tried to stress, a series of casual hook ups. She would arrive late to my apartment, after hours of studying, and we would Netflix and chill long before I knew there was such a thing as “Netflix and chill.” We shared in our med school misery, enjoyed each other’s company, and the relationship flourished. Four years have passed now and casual is not how I would describe our relationship. 

I was the first to say “I love you.” I was the first to offer to live together. I was the first to bring up marriage. On at least two of those topics I was initially rebuffed and her plans for “career first,” the mantra of many women in a male dominated field, guided our path. The idea of a man wanting marriage while a woman did not was hard to explain to my small town, catholic parents. Living together before marriage was hard for her to explain to her conservative, immigrant parents. Somehow, we both survived the experience.

The last year for us has been a struggle as we redefine our relationship in the face of real responsibility and 80-hour work weeks. We spend our days in different hospitals, frequently on different shifts. It is ironic that, despite both being doctors, our jobs do not overlap in the slightest, as she takes care of children and I spend my day with adults. Much of our conversation now occurs in the short window periods where we both occupy the same space - usually while simultaneously finishing notes or reading about a case for the next day.  

Perhaps the greatest irony is that she some how believes that I am the better half. I am a flawed man in so many ways. I am moody, narcissistic, and a work-a-holic. I definitely do not deliver well on all the things she deserves. Meanwhile, she is brilliant, caring, and spends a fair amount of her time ensuring my needs are addressed. Her resolve and dedication to being a good doctor are inspiring. She forces me to be better in ways she does not understand. 

She is not a princess and our relationship is far from a fairy tale. But she is an incredible woman who impresses me daily. This year has been full of difficulties and I often forget to count my many blessings. She is a blessing. She is my love. She is my future. And I could not be more thankful for that.