Photo courtesy of lovelifeeverythin.blogspot.com
We’ve been talking forever
The time has come
We’ll soon be face to face
I’m coming undone
My pulse quickens
My heartbeat erratic
Butterflies in my stomach
Sweating profusely
Anticipation intense
I begin to pace
I need to breathe
I need to think
Surely (yes, I just called you Shirley) everyone has heard the expression “there’s a thin line between love and hate,” right? I have never understood this expression. Well, not until recently anyhow. I mean, love and hate are two opposite extremes, yes? Love and hate are about as alike as Democrats and Republicans. Left and right. Up and down. Catholic and Muslim. Black and white. Cats and dogs. You get the point, right? They’re opposites. Good. Moving on.
Dear Significant Other of my PLATONIC Friend who Happens to be the Opposite Gender that I am:
NOTE: I’ve seen a number of good platonic friendships end, including a recent one of my own. I don’t get the jealousy and mistrust that seems to be going on these days.
(Whew that was a long salutation). Continue reading
Your hand enclosed in mine
As slowly we stroll
Being here next to you
Warms my very soul
I have decided to partake in Edward Hotspur‘s weekly Romantic Monday feature. In essence, you write a romantic poem every Monday and share it on his page so that other participants can read your work in addition to sharing their own. If you fancy yourself a poet, as I occasionally do, please join me in participating in this Unshitty™ adventure.
As some of my more astute readers probably figured out from the last two poems I posted, I’ve had a bit a marriage trouble recently. It started in August. My wife and I had both been unhappy for quite some time and instead of doing things to rectify it, I just kind of ignored the problems. My wife brought them up a few times, but I (for some reason) didn’t take her or our problems seriously.
We ended up having a huge three-day fight that ended with her telling me she no longer wanted to be married to me. Instead of trying to change her mind, I angrily kicked her out of the house. I was hurt and angry and not thinking clearly. Given a chance to do it all over again I would definitely do almost everything differently. BUT, in the midst of all of the hurt and pain I discovered why my wife was unhappy and what I was doing to contribute to that. She was trying to tell me things I should have been listening to, but I instead found out the hard way.
The first thing, and biggest thing, was my irritability. I was extremely short with her and my children. All the time. I didn’t realize it until reading through our IM history on Facebook (we communicate via Facebook while we’re both at work because I have no cell phone signal at work). When reading through all the nastiness I spat at her I was amazed she didn’t leave me sooner. I surely didn’t realize I was treating her that way and I have no idea why I did it or why I didn’t realize I was doing it. I did, however, find out from a counselor I went to see and my primary care doctor that irritability is a symptom of depression. I’m now on antidepressants and so far I’m a pretty different person. I’ve noticed a difference and so have those that know me. It’s a change for the better and I’m glad to have gotten this identified and corrected. I don’t mind being an asshole when I need to be, but to be doing it unwittingly and to those I love is NOT who I want to be.
The second thing I was doing was not making time for us. Time for us is scarce with three children, the youngest of which is a year and a half. When we did have moments we could spend together I chose not to, instead doing things like blogging, playing video games, or just surfing the internet. For some reason I don’t understand, doing those things were more important to me at the time than spending time with my wife. I really have no explanation for it and don’t understand why I made the choices I made. Often times my wife would ask me to go to bed with her and I would tell her I’d be up in a minute only to sit at the computer for another couple of hours before going upstairs.
My third failure was not being romantic. At all. I have never been much of a romantic in terms of flowers, cards, or poems and my wife knew that when she married me. But somewhere along the line she decided she wanted those things. She mentioned it once, but I brushed her off. I’ve since realized that in the big scheme of things that going out of my way every once in a while to do something that shows beyond a shadow of a doubt that my heart belongs to her and no one else is really no big deal. I can do flowers. I can buy a card. I can surprise her with a date every now and then. Or even something else. But for some reason I didn’t want to be bothered with it before. I have no explanation. Again.
When my wife first told me she didn’t want to be married to me any more I decided, in my anger, that I was done with everything. If that’s how she felt then I didn’t want her around. Any and all interactions with her were filled with venom and scorn. I treated her with disrespect. Then things changed. The longer she was gone the more I realized that I missed her. Then that I needed her. That despite what I’d convince myself, I love her.
I saw clearly what I had done to make her feel the way she did. I vowed to change and to fix things and to be the man she fell in love with again, but she wasn’t biting. And I don’t blame her. She ended up leaving. And suddenly I was single again. I was a part-time parent for yet another child.
During our separation we both did things we regret, but she realized that she still loved me and that I had indeed changed. She eventually decided to find it in her heart to give our marriage another shot. I thank her for that and I intend to prove to her that I can be the man she fell in love with and I want to keep on proving that to her until death do us part.
I love my wife dearly, and am just thankful that even though I fucked up I have another chance to show her how much I love her and how much I care for her. She is my best friend and I’m still upset with myself that it took all this drama for me to realize it. But I believe that we’ll make it through this and ultimately be a better couple for it.
We’re supposed to be a gender equal society today. Women are supposed to treated as equal to men. They are entitled to have careers, live the way they want to live, and don’t you dare assume that a woman can’t do something a man can. There (allegedly) is no such thing as man’s job or a woman’s job any longer. That would be sexist.
So why is it that men are still expected to keep the romance alive in relationships? Every once in a while, I’m prodded by my lovely wife to do something romantic for her. I really don’t understand a woman’s need for romance, but every time she does this I can’t help but think: why is this my job to keep romance in the relationship? She likes to be surprised with flowers or some other small act that to remind her that I love her. Apparently, telling her and stopping her as we pass in the house to give her a hug and a kiss don’t suffice.
The problem is, I don’t think about these things. It’s not that I don’t want to do romantic things for my wife, but on my way home from work it never occurs to me to stop somewhere and pick up a rose or some such. I really am just concerned with getting home just as fast as I can so I can see her and, more importantly, my children. Once I’m home, I’m normally home for the evening. After a long day at work I don’t feel like going back out. Moreover, even if I wanted to go out and buy her a small gift or flowers I wouldn’t be able to. If I try to go shopping she always tags along. Not that I mind, but if she’s with me I definitely won’t be able to surprise her with anything. So I’m not sure how she wants me to do this.
I can’t help but think every time she lightly berates me for not being romantic; why is this my job? Why is it solely my responsibility to keep romance alive? When do I get surprised with flowers or something else more suitable to my tastes? When are romantic things done for me? Not that I expect or need them, but fair’s fair.
I love my wife dearly, and I know that I need to make a conscious effort to do these things, as they make her happy. And I do want her to be happy. I hope she knows how much I love her even though I evidently don’t show it often enough for her tastes. Life is hectic with an infant, and her needs honestly don’t occur to me very often when there’s a 1-year old whose needs are more pressing and abundant occupies the majority of my time. And maybe it’s slightly selfish, but what time I do have (when he’s asleep, for example) I try to keep for myself in an attempt to salvage my sanity. This is when I try to write, read, or just try to relax. I guess I’ll have to set myself random reminders on my phone to do these things.
Do you think it’s fair that the man is the only one expected to keep the flames of romance stoked?
