Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Cheese would go nicely with this whine.

I love my husband. I love my husband. I love my husband.
I got these jammies from the kids' section of Target on Black Friday. There were no pink footie pajamas so these neon leopard type print ones were the best I could do. I wore them for the first time on Friday night. John went to bed before I did and I woke him up to show him my cool new sleeping gear. He looked at me and told me I looked like a cow. I was a little taken aback and had to figure out that I was wearing something that was white with black spots. I said something along the lines of "Hmm, maybe we should think about the words that we use" and he mooed at me and went to cuddle and was like, "Come here you cute cow." I reminded him that I, like most women, don't like to be referred to as a cow. He kept mooing and calling me a cow and I reminded him how upset I was when, a few years ago, he referred to my boobs as udders. He thought his joking was adorable and harmless but it really got under my skin. We exchanged some not- heated words about it on Saturday and I returned them on Sunday. I just don't want to be reminded of them, despite their comfiness and John's promises that he liked the way they looked on me.
When I got home from my exam tonight I was talking with John about his day and he said that he told his guy friends at work about "The Cow Incident" and how all of them were taken aback and shocked that I was still with him.
I know he has his pride. I know he isn't romantic. I know this isn't a big deal. I know all of that. I also know that he is paying for my graduate school and I don't make any money at this moment and he doesn't complain about that at all. I wish, in instances like these, that he would be more apologetic and do something to DEMONSTRATE that he's sorry or to acknowledge that most women would have made him sleep on the couch for a week as punishment for assholery of that magnitude but instead of asking him to do anything I changed my contribution to the situation. I don't need flowers and he doesn't like to give gifts. A note, a massage, a prepared meal...any of these things would really be appreciated.
Sorry for the whining. It's just that it really got to me to hear that John's coworkers, who are usually full of happiness and jokes and good natured teasing, were pretty somber about this. Yeah. It's a big deal.

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