Apparently "Cute" & "Quirky." But Definitely Not "Sexy."
I sometimes (code for: usually) take for granted the fact that I am a pretty quirky person does not always sit well with "people."
And by "people" I mean "my husband."
While I am quirky, I am not a "champagne bubblehead" of a girl with her head in the clouds. I very much live in reality. I support myself. I pay my bills on time. I work hard. I am a bit of an introvert and actually like spending time by myself. I am not (never have been, never will be) an "ohmigosh let's do everything together all the time!" kind of person. Sure, sometimes I keep things too much in my head... And when I feel myself floating out to Never Never Land, I haul my ass to a Bikram class for a dose of "welcome to uncomfortable reality!"
But I think most husbands (and even some wives I know) would like a spouse who lives in reality. My husband worries about me though. And I don't really understand why.
A conversation at dinner this evening...
"What did you think of Zombieland?" I ask, having made him watch it on the plane ride home from Arizona.
"I like Woody Harrelson," he said. "But it was't very good."
"What?" I stutter. "How can you not not like it?"
"I didn't say I didn't like it," he saves. "I said it wasn't very good."
"That's the same bloody thing, yo!" I said. "That's like you saying you didn't care too much for Star Wars. Or the Harry Potter books. Breaks my heart."
"Well, you're very unique," he said to me.
"Aww," me, gushing. "Thanks! Though you just said it as though you didn't mean it as a compliment."
"Oh it's a compliment," he said, clearly backtracking with his tone. "It's just that there really aren't many people out there who could fit you so well like me. Most men would not want a wife as unique as you."
Umm...
"What do you mean?" I asked. "You don't think other men would want to get with this?"
Only when I asked it, I did hand gestures. Awesome hand gestures. I even snapped my fingers and did a body roll. I guess I see where he gets the "quirky" bit from... Clearly.
"No. No," he said. "Don't misunderstand me. I think plenty of men would find you cute as a button. And funny. I just think most men would want someone less quirky."
I stare at him. There is quite clearly and insult in there. A few moments earlier we were talking about him not liking something I liked - which is fine. And now he's tell me I'm "special" and "cute?"
What the hell? When did I go back to being 12?
"Look," he begins to cover his ass as he realizes a death stare has come upon him, "all I am saying is that 'I get you.' No other guy would get you."
Flames begin to shoot out of my irises. Sweat starts to form at his hairline. We were starving and eating dinner second ago. But now he has put his fork down and looks quite uncomfortable.
I could flip out. It's not really his place (in my opinion) to say something like, "No other guy is ever gonna want you. You're too weird." It is MY JOB to say that. It's my job to say to him (and I DO!), "Gosh, I am so grateful. It's hard for you. But you let me be myself."
I would never tell him, "Dude... All other girls out there are boring. You are lucky you have a wife who genuinely loves going on dates with you and encourages you to try new things and live life. One who gives you your space and never hounds you about work. Just the occasional hounding about going on vacation together - but only to a distance I know you can handle... As I know while I love to travel, you do not. And I respect that. Gosh I am the BOMB!"
But I don't.
So what do I do, while sitting across the table at a nice restaurant in my neighborhood?
I smile. And I drop the conversation. I finish my dinner. I pay the check.
And I remember that this is a man who understands that I do not want to live in Canada. And is willing to let me split my time between the two cities/countries. A man who enjoys spending time with my family. And one who while traditional ad old fashioned, does every day live outside of his comfort zone.
And for that, I am most grateful.
And by "people" I mean "my husband."
While I am quirky, I am not a "champagne bubblehead" of a girl with her head in the clouds. I very much live in reality. I support myself. I pay my bills on time. I work hard. I am a bit of an introvert and actually like spending time by myself. I am not (never have been, never will be) an "ohmigosh let's do everything together all the time!" kind of person. Sure, sometimes I keep things too much in my head... And when I feel myself floating out to Never Never Land, I haul my ass to a Bikram class for a dose of "welcome to uncomfortable reality!"
But I think most husbands (and even some wives I know) would like a spouse who lives in reality. My husband worries about me though. And I don't really understand why.
A conversation at dinner this evening...
"What did you think of Zombieland?" I ask, having made him watch it on the plane ride home from Arizona.
"I like Woody Harrelson," he said. "But it was't very good."
"What?" I stutter. "How can you not not like it?"
"I didn't say I didn't like it," he saves. "I said it wasn't very good."
"That's the same bloody thing, yo!" I said. "That's like you saying you didn't care too much for Star Wars. Or the Harry Potter books. Breaks my heart."
"Well, you're very unique," he said to me.
"Aww," me, gushing. "Thanks! Though you just said it as though you didn't mean it as a compliment."
"Oh it's a compliment," he said, clearly backtracking with his tone. "It's just that there really aren't many people out there who could fit you so well like me. Most men would not want a wife as unique as you."
Umm...
"What do you mean?" I asked. "You don't think other men would want to get with this?"
Only when I asked it, I did hand gestures. Awesome hand gestures. I even snapped my fingers and did a body roll. I guess I see where he gets the "quirky" bit from... Clearly.
"No. No," he said. "Don't misunderstand me. I think plenty of men would find you cute as a button. And funny. I just think most men would want someone less quirky."
I stare at him. There is quite clearly and insult in there. A few moments earlier we were talking about him not liking something I liked - which is fine. And now he's tell me I'm "special" and "cute?"
What the hell? When did I go back to being 12?
"Look," he begins to cover his ass as he realizes a death stare has come upon him, "all I am saying is that 'I get you.' No other guy would get you."
Flames begin to shoot out of my irises. Sweat starts to form at his hairline. We were starving and eating dinner second ago. But now he has put his fork down and looks quite uncomfortable.
I could flip out. It's not really his place (in my opinion) to say something like, "No other guy is ever gonna want you. You're too weird." It is MY JOB to say that. It's my job to say to him (and I DO!), "Gosh, I am so grateful. It's hard for you. But you let me be myself."
I would never tell him, "Dude... All other girls out there are boring. You are lucky you have a wife who genuinely loves going on dates with you and encourages you to try new things and live life. One who gives you your space and never hounds you about work. Just the occasional hounding about going on vacation together - but only to a distance I know you can handle... As I know while I love to travel, you do not. And I respect that. Gosh I am the BOMB!"
But I don't.
So what do I do, while sitting across the table at a nice restaurant in my neighborhood?
I smile. And I drop the conversation. I finish my dinner. I pay the check.
And I remember that this is a man who understands that I do not want to live in Canada. And is willing to let me split my time between the two cities/countries. A man who enjoys spending time with my family. And one who while traditional ad old fashioned, does every day live outside of his comfort zone.
And for that, I am most grateful.
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