Monday - The Rut
May. 14th, 2007 02:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermoreIt occurred to me this morning, when Jeff forgot the plans we made last week for today, that he and I are ill suited for each other. This doesn't mean that I am leaving him. We've been together almost 18 years, and we've grown used to one another and our shortcomings. Besides that, I am far too lazy to shop for a new model to trade him in on and we really do love one another. That doesn't mean that we aren't mismatched.
The problem lies in that Jeff needs a woman who nags, and I need a man who remembers things. I tend to say something once, and it's set in stone for me. Let's say that I mention something that will happen on the 14th two months from today. I will suggest to Jeff that we attend said event. He will agree that we should. I will not mention it again until the day of the event, when I ask what time he wants to leave for it. Jeff will ask, "Leave for what?" I will say the event we agreed to attend two months ago. He will say he never agreed to any such thing. I will tell him that he did. It doesn't matter, though, because he won't recall it and he has made other plans. He isn't being disrespectful or trying to put me off. He really is that absent minded.
I have a confession, though. I also sometimes appear to forget things he has told me. When I do it, though, it's not because I am absent minded. It's because I'm blowing him off. If I didn't blow him off from time to time, he would make me crazy. My husband worries about everything and follows rules to the letter. I worry about little, and if a rule doesn't make sense, I tend to ignore it.
I've always been this way. My father can empathize with my husband, because I did this to him when I was a teenager. I used to watch my kid brother get into loud arguments with my father, because when Ron got an order that didn't make sense to him he would tell my father, "No, I'm not doing that, it doesn't make sense." This never failed to rile the old man up. Their faces would get red, their fists would clench at their sides, and they would get so close to each other when they shouted that their noses would practically touch.
In turn, when my father would ask me to do something that didn't make sense, I agreed to do exactly when he wanted. Then, as soon as his back was turned, I would do what I had planned to do in the first place. By the time my dad discovered my deception, generally too much time had passed and he forgot to get very angry. He got plenty annoyed, but that didn't involve too much yelling, so it was a win-win situation for me.
Jeff has called me on this confrontation avoidance technique, though. Take the tire rut in front of the mailbox. Our mailbox sits a little further back from the street than it should, and our postal carrier pulls her car onto the lawn to get to it. There is no grass in front on the mailbox, just a dirt rut. I've found it convenient to empty the mailbox using the same technique. I've also learned not to let Jeff see me do this.
Jeff rants about the rut. He loathes the rut. He calls the mail carrier names. He's asked me not to drive into the rut and make it any worse. To make him be quiet so I could change the subject, I agreed. Then I thought about it a little more. I noticed that half the other houses in my subdivision have a similar rut in front of their mailboxes. Since the rut is already there, and the mail carrier will continue to drive through this part of my lawn to deliver the mail, I figured I might as well drive on that little semicircle of dirt myself. At least I did until my loving husband caught me.
"Didn't we agree not to do that?" His face was clouded over with aggravation. When he is happy, my husband is a handsome man. When he is angry, he looks like an ogre. He was very ogresque on this day.
"Oh, yeah. Sorry. I forgot." Of course, I forgot was my diplomatic was to say I chose to ignore you. Jeff knew this, and my effort at diplomacy fell flat.
"You forgot?! How many times have I asked you not to do that?! It's never going to get better if you keep driving on that spot!"
I thought I'd be logical and point out the obvious. "It's never going to get better as long as the mail carrier keeps driving on it, anyway."
"I know that! But I can't do anything about what the mail carrier does. I would like to think that you, as my wife, would respect me enough to not drive there when I ask you not to."
Now I felt guilty, in no small part because it looked like he was so angry that he might have a stroke.
"Okay, I won't do it any more." I intended to make a real effort this time, too.
"You said that last time. And the time before that. And the time before that."
"I'll remember this time. I promise."
"Whatever. I don't know why I try." He stomped off to brood in the back yard, away from me.
My husband and I are opposites in many ways. He forgets things because he simply doesn't remember. I forget things because I chose not to remember. He needs a wife who will nag at him to help him remember, but nagging is not my thing. Since I'm not willing to nag, he has to be willing to take up the slack, the way he does in so many other areas. He vacuums the rugs better (and more often) than I do. He's more consistent with disciplining with our son than I am, and his parenting instincts are much better than mine. He remember to make the bed and puts things away when he's done with them. He's also great at nagging.
I've said it before, but it bears repeating: my husband is simply a better wife than I will ever be.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
The problem lies in that Jeff needs a woman who nags, and I need a man who remembers things. I tend to say something once, and it's set in stone for me. Let's say that I mention something that will happen on the 14th two months from today. I will suggest to Jeff that we attend said event. He will agree that we should. I will not mention it again until the day of the event, when I ask what time he wants to leave for it. Jeff will ask, "Leave for what?" I will say the event we agreed to attend two months ago. He will say he never agreed to any such thing. I will tell him that he did. It doesn't matter, though, because he won't recall it and he has made other plans. He isn't being disrespectful or trying to put me off. He really is that absent minded.
I have a confession, though. I also sometimes appear to forget things he has told me. When I do it, though, it's not because I am absent minded. It's because I'm blowing him off. If I didn't blow him off from time to time, he would make me crazy. My husband worries about everything and follows rules to the letter. I worry about little, and if a rule doesn't make sense, I tend to ignore it.
I've always been this way. My father can empathize with my husband, because I did this to him when I was a teenager. I used to watch my kid brother get into loud arguments with my father, because when Ron got an order that didn't make sense to him he would tell my father, "No, I'm not doing that, it doesn't make sense." This never failed to rile the old man up. Their faces would get red, their fists would clench at their sides, and they would get so close to each other when they shouted that their noses would practically touch.
In turn, when my father would ask me to do something that didn't make sense, I agreed to do exactly when he wanted. Then, as soon as his back was turned, I would do what I had planned to do in the first place. By the time my dad discovered my deception, generally too much time had passed and he forgot to get very angry. He got plenty annoyed, but that didn't involve too much yelling, so it was a win-win situation for me.
Jeff has called me on this confrontation avoidance technique, though. Take the tire rut in front of the mailbox. Our mailbox sits a little further back from the street than it should, and our postal carrier pulls her car onto the lawn to get to it. There is no grass in front on the mailbox, just a dirt rut. I've found it convenient to empty the mailbox using the same technique. I've also learned not to let Jeff see me do this.
Jeff rants about the rut. He loathes the rut. He calls the mail carrier names. He's asked me not to drive into the rut and make it any worse. To make him be quiet so I could change the subject, I agreed. Then I thought about it a little more. I noticed that half the other houses in my subdivision have a similar rut in front of their mailboxes. Since the rut is already there, and the mail carrier will continue to drive through this part of my lawn to deliver the mail, I figured I might as well drive on that little semicircle of dirt myself. At least I did until my loving husband caught me.
"Didn't we agree not to do that?" His face was clouded over with aggravation. When he is happy, my husband is a handsome man. When he is angry, he looks like an ogre. He was very ogresque on this day.
"Oh, yeah. Sorry. I forgot." Of course, I forgot was my diplomatic was to say I chose to ignore you. Jeff knew this, and my effort at diplomacy fell flat.
"You forgot?! How many times have I asked you not to do that?! It's never going to get better if you keep driving on that spot!"
I thought I'd be logical and point out the obvious. "It's never going to get better as long as the mail carrier keeps driving on it, anyway."
"I know that! But I can't do anything about what the mail carrier does. I would like to think that you, as my wife, would respect me enough to not drive there when I ask you not to."
Now I felt guilty, in no small part because it looked like he was so angry that he might have a stroke.
"Okay, I won't do it any more." I intended to make a real effort this time, too.
"You said that last time. And the time before that. And the time before that."
"I'll remember this time. I promise."
"Whatever. I don't know why I try." He stomped off to brood in the back yard, away from me.
My husband and I are opposites in many ways. He forgets things because he simply doesn't remember. I forget things because I chose not to remember. He needs a wife who will nag at him to help him remember, but nagging is not my thing. Since I'm not willing to nag, he has to be willing to take up the slack, the way he does in so many other areas. He vacuums the rugs better (and more often) than I do. He's more consistent with disciplining with our son than I am, and his parenting instincts are much better than mine. He remember to make the bed and puts things away when he's done with them. He's also great at nagging.
I've said it before, but it bears repeating: my husband is simply a better wife than I will ever be.
