It wasn't easy, watching the latest series of Slow Horses with the lovely wife. I'm seven books into the series, and am hooked on its vibe of a bunch of useless cunts in a world that demands never-ending competence. So the big twist in the new episodes is old news in the books, and even with the smll changes of adaptation, I had to answer all of her 'does this mean...?' questions with a stony silence that just felt mean.
But it was worth it, because I don't want to ruin the fun for everyone, especially the love of my life.
So all I could do is literally bite my lip when an obvious clue to a main character's parentage flashed across the plot, and let her figure it out for herself. And she did! She absolutely fucking nailed it, two weeks before it was confirmed on screen. Right down to the question of why the doppelganger looked so familiar. It was very, very sexy to see her work it out.
The same thing happened with Beetlejuice, where my sheer fucking delight at the use of the climactic song had me aching to bellow it out around the house, but I didn't want to ruin it for the wife, and I sorted it out by taking her to another screening.
That worked too, because then she started singing it around the house in moments of high melodrama, and all is well in the home. Except for the poor kids, they think that song is fucking awful and visibly cringe every time we launch into it.
They are still pre-schoolers, and they really have no idea of the cringe to come.
I'm still keeping my mouth fucking shut on something else - the beautifully gratuitous cameos in Deadpool/Wolverine. She's relatively offline and still has no idea who shows up in that wasteland, or what actors are playing what parts, and I'm pretty sure she'll remain oblivious until she actually sees the film, somewhere down the line.
Maybe she'll see something on some other website, but she won't see it here. I ain't ruining anything for anyone anymore.
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