I’ve been planning on writing this post for a while now, and it seems particularly appropriate to come on the heels of my last ode to depression. DB, if you’re reading this, hi!!

So, guns. It seems that people are always stunned to find out that my husband of slight build almost always carries a full-size handgun. I can see in their faces that they *want* to ask where it is, as they look DB up and down, but they’re too embarrassed to ask. If that’s you, I’m about to relieve you of your curiosity and embarrassment.

First, have you ever been on a public transit system in the dead of summer and seen a guy* with a close-cut haircut (on the scale of high-and-tight to punk-rocker, think military-meets-procrastinator), no facial hair, wearing a massive winter coat zipped up partway, sweating profusely? If not, look around next time you’re on the subway in July, and then look to the sweating guy’s ass or his waist. See two bulges? Hint: he probably doesn’t need two cell phones.

Most of the newbie agents, or just the ones that don’t get it yet, resort to wearing loose jackets or baggy shirts to hide their firearm. When they graduate from the FBI Academy in Quantico, new agents are issued a full-size Glock (I think that’s still what they get – DB tends to update me with these types of details, mostly because it’s one of the only things we can talk about), which is pretty huge. Unless you’re packing a lot of other weight around the midsection, the handgun’s gonna stick out, so they resort to bulky clothing to cover it up. They can choose to keep it on their waist (what he does), above their butts, on their ankle, or NYPD-style in a holster on their chest (this is the least practical for a concealed weapon. I mean, seriously. Who do they think they are?!?).

Funny story when we were just engaged and DB was still getting used to packin’ heat: We were flying somewhere, he was carrying, and we both had heavy rolling carry-on bags. He had chosen to conceal his “other cell phone”, as we call it, with a leather jacket that was banded with elastic at the bottom.

DB was also still working on chivalry at that point. That’s important to know for this story.

So we get on the plane, and we’re among the first to board, and DB unchivalrously put his heavy suitcase up first. As he reached up, though, his jacket creeeeeepppppt up, freaking him out and inspiring him to heave his suitcase into the overhead compartment while awkwardly yanking down his jacket. I, of course, had no idea what was going on, and I stood there waiting for him to put up my suitcase, too. Being a newly engaged (read: liberated no more, yoked to a man, no-need-to-check-that-bag-cause-he’ll-be-around-to-help-me) woman, I had packed an especially heavy bag, and there was no way in hell that I was going to be able to get it up. I looked at it, pointedly, between us, and after an awkward second had passed with no activity on his side, I said, “Um, do you want to get that?”

And without skipping a beat, he goes, “Um, no…could you just get it?”

Infuriated (and not very patient – seriously, we have come a long way in a short period of time), I said, “NO! What’s WRONG with you?!? Is it too HEAVY for you?!?”

He had the gall to answer me: “YES.”

So, no kidding, I glare at him and awkwardly manhandle my bag myself, struggling to lift it off the ground and wishing I’d just stayed liberated and checked the damn thing. The guy behind DB, who had since arrived on the plane, glared at him, too, reaching across him to help me get it up.

Damn gun.

Shortly thereafter, DB’s lovely fiancee (yours truly) bought him a beautiful, subtle, in-the-pants holster for his full-size gigantic piece. It’s awesome. He can tuck in his shirt over the gun, unbeknownst to everyone, and now when it’s hot outside, he’s free to look normal and take off his jacket. Best of all, I can pack whatever I want and he can always put it up for me. Bliss.

So he’s packin’ a full-size gun in his pants. Oh, yeah.

10 5 Things You Always Wanted To Know About DB’s Gun:

1) The Glock is made of mostly metal, contrary to the popular myth that they’re all plastic. It does not have a safety and will not shoot unless the trigger is pulled (so if you drop it, it’s still okay).

2) He will die when he reads this: He is a great shot. He is too humble to tell anyone this, but since it’s my blog, I get to write whatever I want, and I’m telling you, he is good. He’s a perfectionist. I think that serves him particularly well in this case.

3) He wears it on his belt, along with 18 million other things for his job: a Blackberry, handcuffs, and if he’s going to the firing range, extra magazines.

4) They qualify on the handgun once a quarter, and once a year they have to qualify on a night shoot (and for some reason, they do the night shoot in the dead of winter, which royally sucks for them and me, because everything gets muddy and it’s kind of gross). Qualifying means they shoot a bunch of bullets into a piece of paper from far away, medium far away, not far away, and close up in a variety of positions, using both hands, and changing magazines in the middle in a short amount of time.

They also qualify, as necessary, with a sawed-off shotgun (they have a better name for it, but that’s what I know it as), an M-4, another semiautomatic machine-type gun, and something else. Clearly I do not retain this information that well.

5) If, for some reason, DB didn’t like the Glock, he could get another gun, but we’d have to pay for it with our own money. A lot of agents his size (he’s kind of slender) get a baby Glock, which is smaller (hence the name), but it’s expensive. Others use a Sig or a Colt 9 mm.

That’s about it for Gun Fun. Stay tuned for the next installment: probably a recap of my exciting office tour. Thanks for reading!

P.S. If you’re a new reader, you may want to read my previous post on guns to learn how we lock ours up.

*Updated because I just realized how this sounded:  There are women agents, too.  They have even more difficulty hiding the gun, and they usually either do the same as the guys OR put their gun in a purse designed for the purpose.  I didn’t realize how totally chauvinistic this sounded until this morning.  SORRY!  I was just talking about DB, and since he’s a he, I forgot about all of the shes.