alright, not literally. or physically. but often times in my marriage i realize i’m the dude.
i’ve been trying for several days to figure out how to word this so i don’t sound like i am bashing myself or aaron. and not sure how it’ll come across but here goes.
a few years back i came to this realization. now, i’m not saying i do what husbands are supposed to do. i don’t hang picture frames, i cannot unclog toilets, i can’t even pick up the sparkletts water bottle to put on the dispenser. however, aaron and i often tease and joke that we have our roles reversed. i guess i have a lot of the male characteristics that a husband usually possesses. and well, my burly, very strong, elevator mechanic husband, can sometimes be the wife. okay. i said it. don’t hate me babe.
for instance, i am not sensitive. this is good and bad at the same time. i can’t remember the last time my feelings were hurt. it rarely happens. and if it does happen i am usually ticked at myself for letting it happen. but on the other hand i am not super sensitive to others. i sometimes don’t really phathom the wide range of emotions others can have, along with the causes that incite these emotions. i am not really emotional, and watching movies like My Sister’s Keeper doesn’t count. i don’t cry because i don’t really get sad. of course i get sad. but it’s not because of anyone else. i don’t allow others to hurt me if that makes sense. of course if a dear friend were to say they hate me and i’m an awful person, that may hurt. but i still don’t think i’d cry. i’d probably be confused and then deal with it. when i do cry it’s because i’m infuriated. yes i am an angry crier. aaron, on the other hand, (this will not be a shock to most of you) does cry. no, he doesn’t stub his toe and tears stream down his face. but he is emotional. more emotional than me. and most sunday nights between the hours of 9pm and 11pm when TBS or TNT is replaying The Notebook, you will find my husband on the couch clutching his pillow with tears welling up in his eyes, as I sit on the other side of the couch with my book or laptop trying to figure out how this is the umpteenth time he has watched it and it still gets him. every. time. maybe it’s because i have as a sister the most emotional person on this planet. so i grew up seeing and hearing all about feelings, and emotions and watching these endless feelings pierce her very heart. every. day. so i’m just not emotional. i have emotions. don’t get me wrong. but i don’t think sensitive would ever be a characteristic someone uses to describe me. when we were younger, she was emotional enough for the both of us. it was just unnecessary that i duplicate it. and now, well, aaron can take on that role.
and i have been known during one of these emotional exchanges usually following an argument with aaron to ask him, “when you were younger did someone hurt you?” or “do you need me to hold you? want me to sing to you?” and then i begin one of the only songs i know all the words by heart. it’s from the little mermaid. look at this stuff, isn’t it neat? wouldn’t ya think my collection’s complete? at least then i get a laugh, and he can’t cry anymore with me making a fool of myself.
then there’s the jealousy. i am not jealous. and usually the woman in the relationship will be jealous. i’ve tried. doesn’t happen. and as much as i think being jealous can strain a marriage, guess what? so can not being jealous. it irritates aaron. i’m serious. i can’t tell you how many times i have heard, “can’t you be just a little jealous!?” and i have tried, but aaron sees through my weak attempts. i try to tell him he should be happy about it. to illustrate the level of his frustration let me tell you what he did once last year. no doubt you will laugh. we were home and aaron was on the computer. his phone made some noise, apparently it’s the noise you get when you receive a text message. he called for me to go get his phone for him and read the text so he didn’t have to get up. now, i have no clue how to work his phone. i never use it. it’s some nextel contraption that resembles the phone zack morris in saved by the bell used. but whatever, i’ll give it a try. so i open his phone and push the read text button. and this is what the text read, “hey you. you looked great today, had a lot of fun and cannot wait to see you again tomorrow.” underneath the text it had a “sent from” label which read, ‘Aaron’s Computer’. yes people, in desperate attempts to get a jealous rage out of me, he sent himself a text message from the computer! Yes. He. Did.
one more thing that kind of makes me a dude. i think. i’m not really a dude, so i will never know for sure. i am completely comfortable talking about my death. aaron and i discuss what we think we would do if something ever happens to the other. i think this is a natural discussion now that we have 3 little people we have to concern ourselves with. here may be the strange part for all of you. i often tell him that he cannot be alone, and that he should remarry if something ever does happen to me. (which by the way, i am convinced of, i just have this very weird, die young of something very terminal thing in my head) i want my kids to have a mom. and while he picked me, i think he may screw up the second time around, so i try to have some input now while i am alive than when i can’t talk and am 6 feet underground. he isn’t thrilled with these conversations. but i try and point out qualities that i really think his next wife should have. okay. there. i said it. i know it may be strange. and although we have these talks about the what ifs if i die, we never really discuss me. i don’t think i need a partner. i kind of need a workhorse. someone to do a lot of work. but i don’t mind being alone. i think me and the kids would survive just fine. and well, the thought of some other man disciplining my kids, not too fly with that one.
so before you all think of me as a cold, heartless, non-feeling person, let me defend myself. just because i don’t easily get hurt, i still love. immensely. and true, the love doesn’t come with the jealous button, or the sensitive one, or the crying one, but it doesn’t mean i love any less.
dudes can love too.
