Wednesday, September 22, 2004


I’m wearing my indignation like an itchy wool sweater today. I might take it off later if it becomes too uncomfortable. But for now, I’m wearing it like a sackcloth, martyr style. You see, I hate golf. Not so much the sport itself, although I’m no great fan, but rather, my husband playing golf. He actually hadn’t played for quite awhile, but I knew he loved it, and I have encouraged him to play more. So now he is. I think that I had quietly hoped that he wouldn’t – that he’d choose to spend Sunday with me and the kids rather than golf, but I was mistaken.

And every time he prepares to play, or comes back from playing, I try not to make a big deal out of it. And every time, I do. Just little passive-aggressive remarks about how much time he’s expecting me to spend with the kids all alone, and how it’s my weekend too, and how now I get to spend six or twelve, or more hours doing something I like (which I never do, since I don’t want to get away, I want him to be here), until he finally blows up and I say all innocent “What?”

And I did it again last night. I hate myself for doing it. I just can’t seem to keep my mouth shut. And then I hate Arthur for not saying the right things when I complain. He doesn’t know what the right thing to say is, of course, and I can’t tell him. (Boys are really stupid, but that’s a different post). So I’m going to tell you, faithful bloggers, and if Arthur happens to read it then it’s out of my control.

I want Arthur to want to spend his free time (his play time) with me – not just the daily routine stuff. And if Arthur has to give in to his friends and go golfing, I want him to propose time that he will be spending just with me – like a date. And he can’t make the plans after I’m pissed off – he needs to have them at the ready – and within a couple of days of the golf game. I don’t want him to suggest that I make plans with the wives of the guys he’s going golfing with – that’s just a way of dismissing me. I’m not saying that I don’t want to spend time with my girlfriends, I just don’t want to spend time with Arthur’s friends’ strange wives. Also – there’s a huge difference between occupying myself and the kids while Arthur’s gone and actually having plans that I look forward to. I don’t want to be the person he wants to escape from but with.

God, I sound like one of those whiney wives I make fun of. Just a moment of weakness that I won’t repeat. This stays between you and me, ok? Now, shhhh, Arthur’s coming and I’ve got to take off this fucking awful sweater.


At 4:02 PM, Blogger Oz said...

Oh boy, I've been there before. It's such a cliche, and I hate it when I say it, but I have said it many times myself: "Well if you don't know what's wrong/how to fix this, I'm not going to tell you." But you know what? Sometimes it's just true. Sometimes the other person SHOULD know what the hell is going on. That being said, in the heat of the moment, it is impossible to say whatever the other person should already know. BUT, after things have settled, you might have to break down and just tell him what you want/need. These are rather specific objectives that you have set, and he might not be able to figure them out. He might just think that you want him NOT to play golf and that there is no way to compromise. When, in fact, you do have a compromise, and if he's a good guy, he'll go for it. Just the thoughts from someone who's been there.

At 6:38 PM, Blogger Carmi said...

I totally understand your perspective, but from the other side of the coin. I'm one of those "dumb boys", and I hate golf. My poison is cycling. Generations ago, in my teens, I used to go for massive day-long rides into the deepest, darkest recesses of the countryside around my burg. The more miles (kilometres, hecto-deci-kilopascals...) the better.

Then I got married. My cycling became more utilitarian: riding to and from work, with big long loopy rides on the way home to make up for the fact that I had to haul around an extra 20 pounds of commuting gear. For fun that didn't interfere with my home time, I tried riding really, REALLY early in the morning before my wife awoke. But that only worked when I wasn't tired from work, or when I wasn't feeling super-lazy.

Then the little people arrived, and my mileage dropped immensely and has never recovered. My wife gets kind of antsy - same picture as you so-ably painted - when I decide to take some time for a real ride. But I get it. And I try to balance things off by being understanding when she wants some "alone time" as well to go to the library or do whatever it is that she wants. I also burned all my Aeroplan miles for two trips for her to Florida. The time I spent home alone with the munchkins was priceless.

I think getting away is important, just so long as it's balanced between both partners. I know my wife still gets into a passive-aggressive snit on some occasions because she feels I may have stayed out too long. But I try to control myself when she does the same. I am, after all, a guy. And it's an argument I'd never win, even if I wanted to. Which I don't.

One day, I'll learn the balance thing. Until then, I'll simply do the best that I can given my genetic shortcomings.

Aweesome post, as always.

At 8:03 AM, Blogger Whimsy Chick said...

We all turn into the whiny wife sometimes, don't we? I think that as long as you recognize it and only let the little bitch out once in a great while, it's not so bad. At least we're not THAT wife. :)

At 9:23 AM, Blogger Trillian said...

Thanks for the great comments. I'm taking you're advice and getting back on the non-whiney wagon. Also - I've got to remember what an awesome, hard-working and loving guy I've got. He deserves a nice day of golf.


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