When I started seeing the man who is now my husband, I would go to sleep every night with the lights on and the movie Primary Colors blaring on DVD. My rationale for this was simple enough – if I could hear John Travolta doing his best Bill Clinton impersonation, then I couldn’t hear my thoughts. And if I left the lights on all night, then I would see any rapists or murderers that were approaching and be able to fight them off.
My husband didn’t love this. He liked to sleep in the traditional way with relative silence and without a whole movie and then a DVD menu playing a hypnotic loop of a tune. I mention all this because those heady initial days of dating someone and discovering all their delightful quirks slowly give way to getting to know them.
During the past 10 years, I’ve learned that in addition to wanting to sleep like a loser, my husband has a bunch of other things he is sceptical of that I had always accepted as a normal part of life. I don’t believe in darkness, silence or regularly scheduled meals. He doesn’t believe in delicate washes, paid parking, best-before dates and – most shockingly – he is totally disinterested in pop culture.
This brings me to the one and only Justin Timberlake. To be clear, Timberlake is, in so many respects, the worst. His public treatment of Britney Spears after their break-up was pretty shoddy.
Janet Jackson was forced to accept the consequences of the “wardrobe malfunction” entirely alone post-Superbowl while he.
