the outhouse

This morning, I received an email from my husband with the subject, “thinking of you.”  The only thing in the email was an attachment.  I opened the attachment and there was a picture of him.

A picture of him sitting in an outhouse.

The outhouse is the latest amenity that he has added to the fort.  (See previous post.)

I can’t even describe how I felt.

I know he thought he was trying to be funny.

But, you know what?  I just want someone to be sweet to me.  Just sweet.

I have a really good sense of humor.  Believe me!  Maybe it doesn’t come out in this blog, but it is there.  I enjoy good fun and funny stuff just as much as the next guy.

But something in my heart wants to be cherished and adored ~ not thought of while you’re sitting in out house.

Maybe if the relationship were better in other ways, maybe it wouldn’t hurt if he sent me a picture of himself sitting in outhouse, thinking of me.

But, you know what, the relationship isn’t better.  It’s empty and it’s painful.

A few minutes ago, he was leaving to go to a family reunion.  I was sitting outside at my table under the tree crying, trying to get some of this pain and frustration out.

He asked me what was wrong.

You know how the story goes.  I tell him I don’t like living here.  He asks what he can do.

I told him that he knows what I want.  I told him it’s hard to live with him, that he acts like a ten year old boy, living in his own world, not considering what others want and need, that it’s hard living here knowing that my daughters have no daddy, never knowing what trick he will pull next.

He asked what I meant by what trick he will pull.  He said he doesn’t pull any tricks.

I brought up the email.  I said to him, that’s the kindest, sweetest thing you could think of to send me?  A picture of you in an outhouse?

He said he thought it was funny.  He asked what I wanted him to send me.  I told him what bothered me was the whole mind-set behind it all.

I told him that I often have not done things right, that I haven’t used wisdom, that I haven’t been understanding, but I told him that, on the other hand, I don’t want to be treated this way.

He asked how I wanted to be treated.  I told him that I want to be treated with kindness and respect and sweetness, I want to be cherished and adored.  I told him I wanted to be loved with the love he says my family didn’t give me.

He said he wants to love me.

I flung up my hands in frustration.  Then I asked him if he could just leave for the family reunion.   He said, no.

I was quiet for a couple of minutes.  Then I said, well, I have things to do.  And I went into the house.

Then he left for the reunion.