The first time I met Bert, we were in a larger social group. We attended the British Advertising Awards at the Walker Art Center, and I don't think Bert said more that four sentences -- and those were the result of direct questions pointed at him. "What's your name?" "Where do you live?" "What do you do?" Each received a short, accurate reply.
The next encounter with Bert occurred when he came over to my apartment to have dinner with me and my roommate. He arrived before my roommate, so for a few awkward minutes I was stuck conversing with this very quiet fellow. Luckily, I walk the line of over-sharing (and sometimes I run right across that line), so I was able to have an enjoyable conversation and we discovered we had quite a bit in common.
As our relationship grew, and eventually we married, I learned something about Bert: he's smart, witty and charming. He just doesn't let everyone know it.
During our dating relationship, when we would drive away, I would get glimpses of Bert's brilliance. He'd make comments about the conversation that was had. Sometimes the comments were funny, sometimes they expressed his strong opinions, and sometimes they would have added great depth to the conversation.
After we got married, these comments would become more frequent, and sometimes he'd even wake up in the middle of the night with a comment or two he'd forgotten to tell me during our recap of dinners with family or friends.
I love getting to witness the "inside scoop" of Bert's mind. There is a downside, though. I find Bert's comments so fascinating, that I will sometimes try to recreate them when we're engaging in public conversation. If a topic comes up, it's not unusual for me to say, "Oh, yes. I've heard about that. Though Bert says that's crazy. Right, Bert?" Cue Bert. Bert looks at me, nods his head, and doesn't open his mouth. Darn husbands.
I guess his brilliance will be left to those of us who know him best.
