O.K., so I have to write this. I know I am going to sound completely crazy, but I have to write this. If you’ve ever “been there, done that,” you’ll understand. But if not, please don’t send me off to the looney bin just yet.
Friday night, he and I were eating dinner together. (Our daughters refuse to eat with him.) He asked me if he could ask me about stuff from the “How We Love” book, which he has started reading. I said sure.
One of the first questions the book asks is, do you remember being comforted as a child? So he asked me that. I told him, no. Then I asked him and he said yes. He asked me about when my mom was sick and I was sent to live with the other family. So we talked about the things I had written about in this post. He asked me how I thought it made me feel. I told him it made me feel like I didn’t matter, that I wasn’t important. I told him that it made me lonely, made feel that I don’t deserve anything but loneliness. He asked me why I though I deserved loneliness. I told him, because life hasn’t given me anything but loneliness. He looked like he wanted to say something in response to that but he didn’t. [Being married to a passive aggressive man is very lonely, but I didn’t bring that up.] Sometimes I would ask him about some of his childhood. He seems to have had a pretty good childhood, from what he says. (But I think there must be stuff he doesn’t admit.) Even though I ended up feeling very tense and very sad, it was a pretty good conversation.
He said that he would rub my feet for me after I took my shower.
After dinner, he took a shower and then I took a shower. When I came out of the bathroom, he was sitting in bed, reading “How We Love.” He didn’t look at me or say anything when I came into the room. I walked around the bed to get into bed. Still he completely ignored me being there. I got into bed and he kept reading and didn’t move. I lie across the bed when he rubs my feet, so he would need to move for me to lie down this way. He didn’t move. Finally, v-e-r-y slowly, still reading, as if I’m not there, he gradually moved out of the way and eventually put down the book so he could rub my feet.
It was just weird. We had had a pretty close conversation and then he acts like I’m not there, like I don’t matter. Honestly, I wasn’t really hurt. It’s par for the course. In fact, while we were talking at dinner, I was wondering how the “distancing” from the close conversation would occur. So I was kind of prepared.
At least the foot rub was nice.