Good Wife/Bad Wife

So you're a guy and you're wondering to yourself, what would it be like to be married to Joelle? It's okay if you've thought this. Your mind is a private place. Except that you know, God can see your thoughts. I've more than once wondered to myself If I were married to that Italian guy I had met in the library, would he have driven thirty minutes out of his way to return my overdue copy of The Penultimate Peril to save me 40 cents in fines? Just because we wonder these things doesn't mean they are going to come true. But in case they do...

I'm not going to keep anything from you. You don't need to be the person who dates me for three months just to find out that I am haughty when it comes to the use of apostrophes. I will let you know my faults right now.

So here we go. The reasons I would be a good wife or a bad wife:

1) The sleep shirts I wear to bed are from 1997, no lie. They are super comfy and two of them I got from the bowling party my orthodontist sponsored when I was in middle school. They feature a stick figure kid wearing braces. So not sexy on so many levels.
Verdict: Bad wife

2) I had a bed-to-wall dependency issue for 15 years. I always had to have my bed against a wall in order to feel comfortable sleeping at night. Apparently this is an issue if you are married, because people don't like to feel trapped in a corner or crawled over in the middle of the night. I've since weaned myself of this dependency. If you have a bed-to-wall dependency, I'm fine with it.
Verdict: Good wife

3) I'll probably keep writing love letters to strangers. I'm on the writing team for MoreLoveLetters.com and really enjoy it. This work means I write words of encouragement and love to people I've never met. You might not like this idea. Maybe it weirds you out. But if you marry me, I promise you I will write you the very best love letters, and not just really sappy, lovely dovey ones all the time. Some may include puzzles or a secret code.
Verdict: you decide

4) I can't go to sleep without brushing my teeth first.
Verdict: Good wife

5) I like brushing my hair just about as much as I enjoy untying a hundred sailors' knots without the use of thumbs. If you end up marrying me, I'll probably try to convince you to comb my hair for me, because my arms get really tired after a while. I know this doesn't sound like fun. But I'll do something for you that is equally as unpleasant, like waxing your back hair. You're getting a deal here.
Verdict: probably bad wife

6) I find nothing wrong with putting a spoon into a carton of ice cream and eating directly from it.
Verdict: you decide

7) I can be ready to go in 15 minutes flat and look pretty cute in 30. If you don't think this is a short amount of time, then talk to men who are already married. 
Verdict: Good wife

8) I will probably blog about you. But it will only ever be about how awesome/funny/sweet/handsome/clever/smart/talented you are. If you really want, I won't say your actual name. My favorite author, Meg Cabot, refers to her husband as He Who Must Not Be Named in her blog. And she always blurs out his face in photos. On our first date I'll probably make you sign a release.
Verdict: Bad wife (but one who brags about you, so maybe good).

9) You will be able to keep nothing from me. You know, because we'll have a relationship based on honesty, trust, and mutual respect. Plus I'm a detective and can figure anything out. I might not let you know that I know, but I'll know. So if you try to plan a surprise for me, you better be five times as sneaky as you think you need to be, because chances are I'll discover what you're up to.
Verdict: Bad wife

10) I still pretend things. I might as well be ten years old. I enjoy building forts and wearing disguises and talking with accents. I've got a sharp imagination that some may call delusional. Three weeks ago I cut a square out of a cardboard box, put it on my head, and pretended to be inside a TV, all in the name of a children's church lesson. But really I just wanted an excuse to play pretend again.
Verdict: depends on your own level of sanity