My Husband Hates Me But He Lost His Memories

Okay, so picture this: you're married, right? You've weathered the storm of mismatched socks, the "who ate the last slice of pizza" debates, and even that questionable haircut your husband swore was "totally in." Then, bam! He loses his memory. Sounds like a plot from a cheesy soap opera, I know. But trust me, it's *slightly* less dramatic in real life… mostly because there aren't dramatic organ chords playing every time he looks at me with a completely blank stare. Except, of course, in my head.

Now, the funny part? He doesn't just not remember me. It's like he actively *dislikes* me. Like I'm the telemarketer who calls during his favorite show, or that one pigeon who always poops on his car. The man I vowed to spend the rest of my life with now eyes me with the suspicion normally reserved for guys wearing fedoras indoors.

Let's be clear: I’m no saint. I leave my hair in the shower drain (working on it!), and I may or may not “accidentally” shrink his favorite sweater in the dryer (whoops!). But before, even when he was annoyed, there was always a glint of… well, something that wasn’t outright disdain. Now? It's all "who are you and why are you wearing my socks?" My socks! The audacity! He doesn't even remember that I bought him those hilarious banana-printed socks!

The Dating Game (Round Two!?)

It’s like we’re dating again, but this time, I’m a *really* bad date. I keep talking about inside jokes he doesn't get, and I keep trying to hold his hand only to be met with the kind of recoil you'd expect from touching a hot stove. I tried to reenact our first date – romantic Italian restaurant, same questionable wine – and he looked at me like I was trying to sell him timeshares. Apparently, remembering ordering the same dish and making the same awful jokes is not charming when you have no context.

Here’s the truly absurd part: I’m trying to win back the affection of a man who already chose me! We’ve been through thick and thin! We’ve assembled IKEA furniture together! That’s a bond stronger than steel! But to him, I'm just some random lady who knows entirely too much about his dental hygiene habits.

The silver lining? (Yes, there is one!) It's forcing me to be a better version of myself. I’m relearning to flirt (apparently, years of marriage makes you rusty), and I'm actually remembering to put the toilet seat down. Small victories, people, small victories.

Operation: Make Him Remember (Or At Least Tolerate Me)

My strategy involves a three-pronged attack: nostalgia overload, cooking his favorite meals (pre-amnesia favorites, obviously), and strategic deployment of cute animal videos. I'm basically trying to brainwash him with kittens and lasagna. Wish me luck.

Seriously though, it's a weird situation. It's like having a boyfriend who’s allergic to commitment, except the commitment is literally erased from his brain. I find myself looking through old photo albums, trying to jog his memory, but mostly just reminding myself that he *did* once love me enough to wear matching Halloween costumes (and those were *ugly*).

And you know what? Sometimes, in the quiet moments, when he's not looking at me like I stole his car keys, I see a flicker. A tiny spark of something familiar. It's not the full-blown, "I love you more than pizza" gaze, but it's a start. And honestly, right now, that's enough.

Maybe one day, he'll remember everything. Maybe he won't. But in the meantime, I’m going to keep trying. After all, who knows? Maybe I’ll even get a second honeymoon out of this amnesia adventure. And this time, I'm picking the destination!