The Husband Who Speaks Fluent Hand Gesture

And not much else. Well, he does but that depends entirely on the time of day you catch him on and how “caffeinated” you appear. Apparently introverts can sense a “loud” person a mile away. And once that danger has been detected, the large personal space shields drop into place and you’re basically in ‘The Boy in the Plastic Bubble‘ territory.

But every story has a start, and here is mine. My husband is an introvert. Not the charming, mysterious kind who occasionally offers a profound observation that makes you stop and think, Wow, there’s a whole universe going on in that man’s head. No.

My husband communicates primarily through hand gestures, facial expressions, monosyllables, and, increasingly, text messages sent from approximately six feet away.

Why speak when you can type? Why engage in the exhausting business of moving air through your vocal cords when you can simply send a WhatsApp message? It is, after all, much more efficient.

He has been known to communicate with me via chat while sitting in the same room. At first, I found this mildly ridiculous. Now I recognize it for what it is: his ideal communication environment.

No awkward pauses. No requirement to maintain eye contact. No possibility of being interrupted. No risk of accidentally saying more than intended. And, most importantly, no talking. It’s basically introvert nirvana.

If modern technology had been invented specifically for my husband, it would be a messaging app with a mute button and perhaps six standard responses:

• Yes.
• No.
• Okay.
• Fine.
• Hmm.
• 👍

That’s it.

Six buttons. Entire marriage managed.

But let’s delve more into his preferred mode of communication-The Hand Gesture! He doesn’t really ask people to do things. He gestures.

A hand points toward the kitchen. A finger indicates the cupboard. Two fingers move vaguely in the direction of the living room. I used to be the recipient of the ‘talk to the hand’ gestures in the earlier days of our marriage. That gesture was counteracted with the “angry eye”+”if-you-want-to-keep-that-hand-get-it-out-of-my-face” look. And it beat a hasty retreat.

His little circular motions do not, sadly, mean that he wishes he could fly a helicopter but usually “Turn the fan up/down/to the optimum speed“. He is less a husband and more a puppet master operating a household through invisible strings. And, remarkably, it works.

Someone will get up. Someone will move something. Someone will find the glasses, the nail cutter, get the PB&J sandwich, his comb, switch off the light or just leave him in peace to the wonders of X. Someone will mysteriously end up doing exactly what he wanted.

Meanwhile, he remains seated, perfectly content, like a Victorian aristocrat directing servants from a chaise longue. Except the Victorian aristocrat has a smartphone and busy thumbs!