My lovely friend recounted to me her annoyance with her husband last night, and her description was too funny not to share. (I hope she doesn't mind anonymously sharing her marital strife!)
She described how he came home from work in a bad mood because he only had a few minutes before the game he wanted to watch started. She said:
"...[H]e wears the same shirt, underwear, etc. and sits in the same place on the couch and eats the SAME crackers, can we say OCD, any who, I got tired of folding laundry and me and [my daughter] came out and sat on the love seat, we didn't bother him at all. Well because we came out there and messed up his mojo, apparently he wasn't able to telepathically communicate to the team in Arizona the plays he wanted them to execute and of course they lost. He was bitching about it and I finally said, "You know what go fuck yourself and go to bed."
Interestingly, this is probably exactly what I would have said.
On another note...
It is really a shock to the system when someone that you thought you knew pretty well tells you he can't imagine you for any more than casual sex. Ouch. Fucking ouch. It's especially jolting when this secret of someone else's is one of your greatest interpersonal fears:
And you know what? I can't figure out if it's better or worse that I never even slept with this person and he said that.
Regardless, I reiterate: OUCH. My heart has been kicked around like a soccer ball in the past few months.
2 comments:
This business about you being good enough to fuck but not to love: it's utterly, completely untrue.
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