Didn’t think I’d be writing a post so soon but had to get this one down while it’s all still fresh. The divorce lawyers prefer it that way. It’s a tale of marital strife and healer and tank disharmony – basically my usual blog post after I enter a dungeon as a tank with my husband as healer.
Ok the day started well enough. I got up early because my other eye is now bad (don’t get me started on my eyes – apparently stress is making me come out in styes. They alternate eyes so neither feels left out and in the meantime I walk round the place looking as if I’ve come off rather badly in my attempt to be featherweight champion of the year).
Anyway I went on the computer right away (sad sad I know) and did something I’ve been wanting to do since I started writing this blog. I changed my tank’s name (Sparci) to Bravetank. I thought it was time for her to adopt her true title. In my head I thought it would be like the moment in films when some special title is bestowed on the main protagonist and he/she finally know who they are and their purpose in life. This was my Sparci Clark Kent’s Superman moment. This is her day I thought. How wrong I was. So wrong. The name is cursed.
Once my husband was up, breakfasted and had checked his gold like Scrooge before the three ghosts I did my usual begging act – asking him to heal me. It won’t be Scholomance I promised. Little did I know that by the end of our run my husband would be praising Scholomance to the heavens like some Azerothian tourist guide on commission. Instead we entered Stratholme – the main gate one…the main gates to hell as it turned out.
It started badly. I noticed my husband didn’t have Devotion Aura on and rebuked him like a Sgt Major spotting a new recruit’s poorly shined shoes. But in fairness to me (if this blog at least can’t be fair to me I don’t think there’s much hope) we do have an agreement. I put Ret Aura on and he puts Devotion Aura on. It’s not that hard. Until this moment I haven’t felt the need to write it down or write it on the fridge or anything. But apparently he didn’t remember and then claimed he thought he always did Ret Aura. Even though he hadn’t remembered to put that on either …. I held my tongue (if by that I mean I said various things of a very sarcastic nature) and we began.
We had a mage, hunter and warlock in our group. They seemed friendly enough. But like magnets of the same charge they also seemed strangely repelled by each other. And by us. I’ve never seen anything like it. Basically they just ran in three different directions, all of them different from the one my husband and I were going, all of them wrong. At one point one was running back to the instance entrance in a relay race with its pet.
So as you can imagine the first couple of pulls were rather messy. There were basically four different pulls happening in four different areas. To top it all I immediately got some kind of worm infestation from some contagious ghoul. Now I always know immediately when that happens because I am a good girl and have Decursive. My husband is not so good. He feels himself to be rather above Decursive. “I’ve got worms,” I yelled, causing the neighbours to squirm. “Oh right,” he said in a rather laid back manner for someone I trust with my life. However, he cleared the worms like an efficient vet and we pressed on.
I don’t really know what happened next. One moment I was alive the next I was dead. At this point I think we were only about 3 feet from the main gate. Determined to be cheery I stoically corpse ran and returned, announcing in an upbeat school teacher manner, “Let’s all try again shall we.” I immediately got attacked by something I hadn’t seen coming (don’t forget my stye – I’m effectively doing all this with one eye). And this time we all died. Disaster. “At least we’re having exercise doing our corpse runs,” I said in a now clearly insane cheery manner, already in reality a gibbering wreck. I cast a sneaky glance over my shoulder at my husband to check he’d remembered he was the healer and wasn’t tabbed out checking football scores. He was still in the dungeon having a “mb” as he tersely announced. I refrained from saying anything.
Third time. We got as far as the tobacco guy then the wandering dps pulled mobs from every quarter of Stratholme and we died again. My husband maddeningly then decided to write in Party chat ,”What happened?” OMG I thought. Betrayer. He’s just inviting them to blame the tank. So I immediately (and not in an overreacting way at all despite what he said and how this now seems as I write it down…you had to be there) gave him a verbal reminder of his marriage and WoW vows. The keypoints were as follows: – as my husband I did not expect sarcasm from him in Party chat, that this was the very reason he was my healer, that he was supposed to be defending me no matter what etc. My wedding ring almost came off my finger for dramatic effect but even I sometimes know when to stop (normally 5 mins after it’s too late mind). “I’m just having fun!” he said. I’m not even typing my response to that. I have vowed to keep all bad language out of this blog. So for revenge I immediately posted in Party chat – “It’s worse because healer is my husband.” Silence, then “Oh have you two had a fight?” said one of the dps. So you can imagine how we must have looked. Totally incompetent and dysfunctional to boot. How two WoW toons can convey blame, frostiness and the total breakdown of trust I don’t know but we managed it. The dps kept quiet- not even they wanted to go there.
I ran round a corner into another load of mobs. By now I was playing rather erratically I have to admit. I looked for the healer. He was being attacked in a completely different part of the dungeon. “Why aren’t you with me?” I asked. “One of the dps…” I didn’t let him finish. “Forget the dps, stay with me,” I ordered like an egotistical tyrant, “I am your priority. And you can sometimes put Hand of Protection on me you know.”
“I don’t have it,” he said. I sighed so loudly in response that people in Australia felt a breeze across their face. “Yes you do,” I replied, “Every paladin has it.” But we couldn’t continue this interesting debate about Paladin skills because by then we were dead – again.
My first dungeon with Sparci playing officially as Bravetank I thought. What a disaster. Hope none of the dps read my blog. I found myself standing once again before the spirit healer. She gave me a rueful look and a little shrug as if to say I used to have a healer husband too- and look what happened to me.
By now we were by the letterbox bit of the dungeon fighting the postmen who care very deeply about the mail. “Pull more,” said one of the dps, and like a fool I did, believing in that moment that I could handle it. “Don’t listen to him,” yelled my husband, panic-stricken, but my headstrong self pressed on. I can’t remember the details of what came next – all I know is every hit I took seemed to totally decimate my health, and there was no sign of any heals. “Sorry,” said my husband when I died again, “I was focused on the mob by accident.” Now I’ve done that myself as a healer. I know it happens. But by now I could barely breathe. We were the laughing stock of the dungeon. It was only the fact the group knew we were married that was keeping everyone in check- no one wanted to be subpoenaed to give evidence in a divorce court.
In we went again. Most of the mobs in this area had now gone. I had time to view the buildings and wonder about real estate prices. I turned a corner and immediately pulled something else. “I’m not ready,” yelled my husband furiously. “I didn’t pull them on purpose!” I yelled back, already a corpse on the floor. We then had a heated discussion about tanks who run off without checking the healer is with them. Apparently they are the scourge of the earth. Actually when I’m a healer I agree. On this occasion though I found myself rather more sympathetic to such tanks who have healers who repeatedly find themselves stuck behind gates….
And so it went on. My armor by now was totally wrecked. Any finesse, style and assurance from my play had gone. Any hint of civility between me and my husband had long since disappeared. I said somethings about what he could do with his Beacon of Light that was quite frankly offensive.
Finally the last straw. My health disappearing again he said, “I am healing you but it’s not working, why can’t you be healed?”I’ll show him I thought and tried to click Lay on of Hands on myself. It didn’t work for some reason. I kept quiet. And died. Again.
“I can’t do it any more guys,” I said to the dps, “It just isn’t working.” My husband had by now already left the dungeon and was dismantling his mouse to show me a bit of fluff that was apparently the cause of all the problems. I refused to look.
What a disaster. Silence descended on the house. For 10 seconds. Then the recriminations started. Apparently he’d never seen a tank lose health as fast as me. I’ve never seen a healer not use Hand of Protection I responded. Why did I listen to the dps and pull more. I didn’t know I admitted, I’m easily led. Why did he criticise me in Party Chat I asked. It was a joke he insisted. Then the bit I knew was coming. The speech. “I’m never healing for you again. I hate it. It’s not fun. I get nothing out of it. It was embarrassing.” It was like an anti healer affirmation. But then, amazingly for once, I started listening. Properly. He really does dislike it. He hates it. He is only doing it because I beg him and he loves me and he knows I’m scared to tank without him. And you know what … if I’m to be brave, really brave, I need to start doing this on my own. And if I’m to be a wife, a good wife, I need to stop making my husband do something he hates. So he wins. The pocket healer is no more and he is set free. With love. And now my scary journey really begins….