There are a few topics that I try to avoid in my blog- politics, religion, work, and sex, to name the top few. It's very hard for me to have practiced restraint in these areas, because, if you know me, I like to discuss politics, religion, work, and sex quite a bit. As a matter of fact, after talking about Andy and the kids, this is pretty much all I talk about. (Oh, besides running. I could talk about running ALL day.) I'm really proud of myself for keeping my blog clean. I'm never worried about anyone reading it or re-posting it. I've never been concerned that what I write is going to come back to haunt me. That's quite the feat for me given the fact that, when speaking, I stick my foot in my mouth all of the time. Stupid things flow furiously out of my mouth like a river after a hurricane. You'd think I'd learn after 35 years but no, I don't, and now I'm going to write about one of the topics on my taboo list. I promise I won't use the word (although I already did) and maybe that'll help a little bit. Here goes.
I just love the book Men are From Mars, Women are from Venus. I think it's funny how some men think women are so complicated. I laugh when men are confused by women and their ever-changing emotions, or when men argue that women say one thing and mean another. Maybe there is some truth in what they say. Maybe some women demonstrate a range of emotions during just a few moments time. Or perhaps some women say one thing when they mean the opposite. Well, that ain't me, at least not personally. I'm very direct and blunt about what I think and how I feel. I have just a few emotions: ok, cranky, mad, and pissed. I express these emotions loudly and clearly like a giant neon sign on a dark and endless highway. Andy has been driving on this highway for 12 years. Sometimes the drive is steady. Sometimes there are other signs like "dangerous curves ahead" or "caution, falling rock". Sometimes it is foggy out there on the road, or windy, or even icy, yet those large neon signs are always on the side of the road, boldly highlighting the right direction for him to move in.
Apparently, he can't read.
I'm not that complicated. I'm not a woman of mystery, hiding her inner feelings, waiting for the right person to unlock the secret to my happiness, or (oh my) my inner goddess. The poor guy, though, he just doesn't get it. It's been 12 long years for him, trying to understand me. I can't look at him anymore with his sad, confused face, time after time of rejection. Oh, boy. I'm very lucky. Andy is quite simple. Figuring him out is like understanding the directions I got with my smart phone: Plug in, charge battery, turn on- you're good to go. That's what I love about him really. Somehow, at the end of the day, whether I am ok, cranky, mad, or pissed, he still wants to be with me. Lately, after being so exasperated at his lack of ability to read the neon signs, I've felt the need to lay it out for him as directly as possible. I've started a list for him, actually. Now, when he does, or says, something incredibly stupid, or conversely, doesn't do or say the "right thing", I let him know, up front, what's going to happen. Or, more likely, what's not going to happen. I'd now like to share with you an abbreviated version of The List, or what I like to call, Why You'll Be Sleeping on the Couch Tonight.
Reason number:
1. You say you'll be home in 5 minutes and show up 25 minutes later.
2. When I ask where you were, you say you got caught up talking to our plumber about some lady's pipes.
3. You let the door slam in my face when my arms are full of groceries.
4. I open the door to the office.
5. I open the door to the garage.
6. You feed the kids McDonald's.
7. You come up behind me when I'm on the computer and you chew in my ear.
8. You fart. (I'm sorry, I know that isn't totally in your control, but it's a killer.)
9. You leave me alone with the kids all weekend while you go to a comic book convention.
10. You tell me you are worried Char's nose is going to look like mine when she grows up.
Aww, you poor, poor man. For all you know, I could have just been thinking about slipping on a little t-shirt with boy shorts and waiting at the door for you, holding a cold beer meant for your lips, and then you show up 40 minutes late and BAM! All done! The t-shirt's in the hamper and the beer's down the drain. You walk in and I'm wearing maternity sweats and am on my second large glass of vino. The kids are screaming and coloring on the couch and you are sleeping on it tonight, my friend.
There's also The OTHER LIST, also called Ten Easy Steps to Success (I call it something totally different but I'm trying to be PG still.) and it goes a little something like this:
1.Fold the laundry and OH MY GOD! PUT IT AWAY!
2. Feed the girls vegetables.
3. Ask me how my day was.
4. Rub my back. That's it. Just rub my back.
5. Put the donation bag I give you into the truck without sifting through it and taking half of the stuff out.
6. Talk to me for more than five minutes without looking at your phone.
7. Listen to me. I know you're not because you interrupt me to say something completely unrelated to what I am saying.
8. Pack the car for me before a trip.
9. Admit that I could run a mile faster than you.
10. Tell me my nose is what attracted you to me. No, not my butt! My NOSE! NOSE!
Dear hubby, do any of these things and I'm yours. I'll melt like butter. It's not that complicated. I'm not a mystery. I don't need fancy dinners or diamonds. Sure, I'll take those, too, but really, it's the little things that turn me on. I can go from angry to acknowledging your existence in just a few minutes. Watching you put my underwear and socks away is sexy, baby. Just do it. And I'll do you.
I did it! Ahh, am I going to publish this, post it to facebook, and take it down in ten minutes? I'm not sure! But now you know our secret. And if you see Andy one night, driving down the dark and lonely highway, trying to read one of those neon signs, you can remind him it'd be easier to see if he turns his headlights on.
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