Saturday, July 02, 2005

Loving My Husband

It's late and I'm up. Sex has the reverse effect on me as it does on men. It wakes me up. I did all I promised for EH and more. He's snoozing with a smile. I basked in the feel of his arms for a bit, then slipped away.

I was floored when I spotted this post on Jay's blog about my capacity for loving EH. A huge smile broke my face and I thought about it for hours tonight. I was filled with pride until it hit me...it's all wrong.

First, EH has gotten a bad rap, thanks to me. You have to realize you're privy to my inner thoughts on blogland and I don't censor or hold back anything in real life, so blogging is even more deeply exposed thoughts. I tend to bitch when the mood strikes and it's not always warranted.

Yes, EH had a cyber affair last year with another blogger. It lasted a few months and culminated in repeated phone sex and too many emails to count. I found out about it and freaked and here we are.

In all my raging posts, did I ever mention how far we had grown apart? EH was working opposite hours of me and when he came home late at night, I was grouchy and bitter from spending the night alone. He worked weekends (every weekend) and I resented the hell out of him for it. We were barely speaking. And he found someone who wanted him for awhile...the bitch. We were both beginning to believe our marriage was over. If it hadn't been EH, it probably would have been me. He just cheated first.

Did I mention he was never unkind to me? Even during the 'affair' he treated me gently and with care.

It occured to me that I don't deserve any pat on the back for being obsessed with my own husband - he's brought this out in me.

It's been over 11 years and EH has never criticized me. Ever. Not once. He's never taken a bad mood out on me. I've exploded at him more times than you could count. EH gets frustrated, not mad. He sulks quietly (which drives me nuts!) - when I get angry...hell hath no fury. I'm an Irish redhead. If I'm pissed off, the roof is coming off, baby. Flames shoot from my fingertips. It's a miracle I've never taken a life.

EH goes out of his way to see that my needs are met. Whether it's buying me a book he thinks I would like, leaving a rose from one of the many rose bushes he buys me on my steering wheel, caressing me, taking care of me if I am sick...you name it. This man is good to me. After 11+ years, he still holds the doors for me (car doors too), still orders for me in a restaurant, still holds my hand when we walk.

He pours me a glass of wine when I come home from a bad day. He rubs my back. He does anything I ask of him without complaint. EH's most dreaded moments are when I begin a sentence with "Hon, would you do me a favor?" (about 300x per day).

EH treats me like a precious thing and as a result, I have lost my whole heart to him. How could I not be so in love with this man?

Classic moment in our life (and I am sure I have told this before): Many years ago, when SG was small and I worked from home, EH and I lived like total slobs. I hated it, but hated housework even more. One day, I called a cleaning service and hired them to come in and clean every other week. I never told EH. The first day they came, the house was spotless. It shined, gleamed, sparkled and smelled like heaven. When EH walked in the door, I was collapsed on the couch as he marveled in shock at the pristine house and I whined that I had scrubbed and cleaned all day just for him. He insisted I relax - as I must be VERY tired and he prepared dinner. I snickered at my cleverness and did just that.

This went on for months. Each time, I took full credit for the clean house. One day, I couldn't afford it anymore and let the service go. In no time at all, the house was a mess again. EH finally asked "How come you don't keep the house clean like you used to?" I laughed and told him the entire truth.

He smirked at me and said "I know." I stared dumbly at him while he went on to explain that the first day I had hired the company, I hung up with them and went to the grocery store. When he came home, the phone rang and he answered. It was the service, wanting directions. He knew from DAY ONE and let me get away with that scheme.

That's love...

Don't mistake EH for a pushover or 'whipped' either. He sees straight through my bullshit and has the decency not to call me on it. He gives me the benefit of the doubt. He's definitely NOT a pushover. I know that he knows when I am full of shit...we both just play it off. He lets me believe I am right, I stop throwing a tantrum. He's a smart guy...I'm convinced he walks away rolling his eyes where I can't see and muttering "...that bitch". If he does, he hides it VERY well.

Listen, I whine, I sulk, I pout, I'm self-centered and difficult. Stubborn as a mule. Bossy. Pushy. A temper that could frighten Rambo. I am not an easy woman to love...it takes a patient, selfless man. It takes the patience of a damned saint...

It occurs to me that I'm not a better person for being so crazy about this man I married...

I'm crazy about this man because he's the better person.

Posted by Red :: 1:39 AM :: | ---------------------------------------