So, last night while I was washing the dishes, after cutting his hair, I was thinking, not much p.a. stuff has been happening, wonder what’s coming. And when.
By the way, did you know that I am wonderful? Yes, I am. Thank you for making dinner, you’re so wonderful. Thank you for cutting my hair, your so wonderful. Thank you for taking that to the post office, you’re so wonderful. Thank you for cleaning out the clogged drain, you’re so wonderful. Thank you for buying apples for me, you’re so wonderful. And he’ll say thank you, you’re so wonderful, about three to five times in the space of about half an hour – for the same thing. So, now you know. I’m wonderful.
So, last evening I did the usual wonderful stuff – I washed his work jeans, I warmed up dinner I had made the night before, I cut his hair, I washed the dishes – you know, all the housewife stuff a woman does even though she works pretty much full time, too, and I was wondering about what p.a. stuff was going to come up. Because I knew it was only a matter of time.
I finally get into bed, dog tired, and he wants to kiss me good night. Well, it hurts so I ask him to stop. Then he starts talking.
“In the Love Languages book, it says….” man, I wish I had never brought home that book!!! He goes on to explain that love is a choice and after the initial “falling in love,” you have to choose to love your spouse. He tells me that I don’t make it very easy for him to love me, but he has chosen to love me and he is committed to me. He says that I told him that “quality time” is my love language so he spends time with me [ah, the “hanging around” of the previous post explained; as I suspected], but that I am just grumpy. He said he put posts in the ground for me to plant my grape vines but that I didn’t plant my grapes. He said he brought home straw bales for me, but that I didn’t use them. He says that he asks me to go places with him, but that it is always too hot or too cold and that if we waited until it was seventy-one degrees, we would never go anywhere. [I’m sorry – I don’t really want to go the botanical gardens on a winter day when it is freezing. Not fun.] He tells me he works outside; he works when it is a hundred and ten and when it is below freezing. And he does it all for me. He says he is trying very hard to make things right, but that I am just too hard to please. He says he is not perfect, that he can’t do everything, but that he wants to give me what I need. I tell him that I don’t know what to say. [I was so tired; all I wanted was to go to sleep. And really, there wasn’t anything I could say.]
He tells me that I need to make the choice, the decision to love him. I finally said that I had loved him for years and years and years, and that all I got was hurt. He said he was deeply sorry for the hurt he had caused and he was working to change that, but that I needed to help him. He said that I talk him down to our daughters but that when he does stuff for me, like rub my feet, I don’t say anything about it and that I should tell them when he rubs my feet. I told him that my telling them that he rubbed my feet is not going to fix years of him not building a relationship with them. He says he did build a relationship with them; he read to them when they were little and played with them. I said, and then you stopped. He said, well, as they got older, it got harder. I said, so; even if something is hard, if it is your responsibility, you do it. I told him that his relationship with his daughters was his responsibility and that it had nothing to do with me. He said again that I needed to help him. Finally, I told him that I had to go to sleep, that I was so tired, that I was tired three hours ago. Thankfully he stopped talking so I could go to sleep.
Well, so, obviously, he is the victim here. I am the bad guy. I’m not lovable. I don’t choose to love him. I don’t plant grapes when he plants posts. I don’t make my daughters love and respect him, regardless of what he does or doesn’t do. I don’t go out on dates with him when he asks me. I expect him to be a grown-up man, which, of course, is unreasonable. Yup, I’m the bad guy. Evil, terrible, hateful me.
You know, when I was writing the previous post about “hanging around,” I almost put in there something about that he would put the blame back on me for not liking him hanging around. I just knew it.
Well, this terrible, unlovable person has to go make a shopping list so she can go grocery shopping after work so the poor victim can have something to eat.