I’m currently sitting in a hotel room in New Orleans, on the 26th floor, where I’m attending a conference about and for dads. A disturbing dream woke me up in the dark of morning as I hear the sounds of train-horns in the distance and know the Mississippi River is lazing by in one direction and Bourbon Street is in the other direction.
My wife took me to see Nancy Meyer’s new movie, It’s Complicated, which stars Meryl Streep, Alec Baldwin, and Steve Martin. She had seen it a day or two before and wanted to see it with me saying, “It would be good for us.” Honestly, I do tend to like what is typically labeled “chick flicks” but don’t like director Nancy Meyer’s perfect world, perfect rich characters, perfect looking people, dressed and coifed just perfectly. But, for the sake of marital harmony, I agreed.
I didn’t expect what followed. Throughout the It’s Complicated, my wife was jabbing me in the ribs whenever she wanted me to notice a point being made that she felt related to me or us. So, I left with bruised ribs, which ached even more towards the end of the movie during the one, truly hilarious scene. I really enjoyed laughing that hard, in spite of the pained ribs, which I’ve totally exaggerated for sympathy anyway.
I have an overwhelmed wife. And, I suspect I’m the first guy who has heard from his overwhelmed wife how busy she is, how much she does, how tired she is, how under-appreciated she is, and how I do nothing. Well, it’s true. I actually do nothing.
I don’t take care of the boys, pay for our lives, walk our three dogs, pay the bills, clean up after myself and others in the kitchen, occasionally cook, often BBQ, do the CostCo runs, put gas in my wife’s car, tell her how much I love her, and how amazing her cooking is. Nah, I do none of that stuff.
So, last week’s blog was about one of the other three common couple’s argument topics, money, and I thought I’d take on the easier one with this blog – sex. Yeah, very easy.
While I declared that sex isn’t a big issue in our household, and it isn’t, I also have to admit it is an issue. There’s a movie quote, don’t ask me from which movie, that goes something like this, “He wants, she doesn’t, he wants, she doesn’t,” which sums up the stereotype thinking on sex between couples.
Okay, girls, it isn’t just you during pregnancy or menopause that keeps forgetting everything (or so it seems). I’m suffering it and I only was pregnant once! Seriously, I’ve been fond of saying for the past decade or so, that the only thing I remember is what I had for breakfast. And, the only reason I remember that is because I have the same thing every day.
Does anyone believe those advertised memory supplements work? I can’t remember anyone’s name. My wife’s name literally is one letter’s difference from my ex-wife’s name. It took nearly two years before I stopped calling her by my ex’s name. All the bruises I suffered as a result, and I couldn’t blame her.
I doubt there’s any way I can win writing about this menopause topic any more than commenting on PMS at all wins over women’s hearts. But, that said, I have to say women’s plumbing and emotions continue to be a mystery to me.
My new wife has been “in menopause” since we met, so I actually have no idea who she really is. First, there were the hot flashes. Then, the moods. Then, more moods. Then, the new moods began, followed by the post hot flashes moods. Did I mention her moods? When does menopause end??