The thought of hot chocolate may not excite some folks nearly as much as thinking about hot coffee, especially in light of its connotation in relation to Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas.
Which, if you don't get the reference, isn't really all that important.
This shit is all about me anyway.
I was shocked to walk in the door yesterday after work to the smell of some sort of dinner cooking on the stove. I am so much more accustomed to being welcomed by the drone of the TV (playing The Incredibles EVERY DAY lately) and my wife and sundry other household life forms in some form of languor in the living room.
I was similarly taken aback at my wife's statement that she wanted to get an early start on dinner (normally my responsibility these days) in order that perhaps we could all get out for a walk afterwards while it was still light.
Must... find... defibrillators...
And we went for a LONG walk. Like, almost an hour. Given the shifting state of my wife's pelvis, the chronic pain in her 'penis bone' and her inclination to rapid fatigue, this was nearly unheard of! Her pushing a stroller and me reining in two good-fer-nuthin' dogs, we took the long way to the 7-11 for a hot chocolate.
She likes to start conversations, when there's a silence, with the question, "So, what are you thinking?"
A local radio station, every day at 5.30 PM, has a contest featuring the daily Brain-Buster question; normally a vague statistic for which hints are slowly doled out as callers continually get the answer wrong. "35% of married couples never do THIS in their first year of marriage" and the like.
Their question one day not too long ago was, "75% of men, when polled, state THIS as the most feared question when posed by their spouse." I didn't bother to call in, but I could have won the tickets or whatever they were giving away that day. I face that question on a very regular basis.
"So, Honey, what are you thinking?"
Most men are forced into a very quick decision at this crux: Tell the truth, which is normally sports, sex, beer or some long-harboured fantasy involving all three...
...or...
Lie outright. "I was thinking about how much I love talking about my emotions with you" is ALWAYS a red flag.
Most men, I believe, opt for some equivocation that combines the two. I honestly try my best to go the route of truth as often as I can and as I deem healthy for my marriage. This sometimes means saying "never mind, Dear."
So, shortly after we started our walk last night and were crunching our way over the golden blanket of leaves that currently covers most walking trails in the suburbia we call home, I was again asked The Question.
My response always starts the same: "Well..." Long pause and a deep sigh. This gives me time to focus on what I was thinking, decide on whether or not it's in my best interest to share that with my wife, and perhaps come up with an alternate response that will include enough of the truth so as to assuage any guilt I may feel for equivocating. Nations are built on less solid foundations of communication; I shouldn't feel so bad.
"Routine, really," I summed up in a single phrase.
"Oh? And how's that?"
"Well, it's kinda like the comment I made to you on the couch the other night just after I put Declan to bed. It'd be nice to have more time to myself than flopping down on the sofa just before ten o'clock, still eyeing that pile of dishes that needs to get done, you know? I'm too caught up in the routine of getting up, going to work, coming home, making dinner, cleaning up, bathing the boy, walking the dogs, that I start to get frustrated at the lack of free time and balance that I want."
"So what do you need for more balance?"
"Well, I want to go back to the gym again; I haven't been since I finished the Death Race and I'm feeling it. My body is a temple and I need to go worship some more. I want to be able to read in the evenings, but by the time I pick up a book my eyes are already heavy and I put it down after only a few pages."
My Me-Time is very important to me and I'm a better contributing member of my family when I get it. I can get snooty and intolerable when I don't. I know this. Amy knows this. Our children will grow up knowing this. It's not about to change.
This then took our conversation into the realm of taking some time away from the family every couple months or so for a night out with the boys. Which I've done before and felt no qualms for doing. (Though I did feel really bad that night I didn't come home from Poker Night until, like, six in the morning when I said I'd be home much earlier. A wife will hold you to that, you know.) Amy sometimes takes exception since these nights can start with the intention of crashing at some house or other (she calls them sleepovers with an 'oh my gawd I can't believe you're still in high school' look on her face), necessitated by the fact that there's been drinking and/or visiting friends who live far enough away that driving thither and back, after socialising, isn't really a plausible option.
The balance between family and social life is such a fine one. A man's time, by necessity, and also much preferably by desire, should be spent with his family. In the rearing of children and the loving of one's wife and for the myriad reasons that a guy gets himself hitched up to begin with.
That balance also requires non-familial interaction. I've told Amy before that I sometimes need to go away so I can miss her. It's sort of like the beginning of the movie City Slickers with Billy Crystal. His wife tells him to go away for a couple weeks on this cattle drive with his two friends so he can find his smile again.
I'm not missing my smile. Sometimes the tranquillity I seek from the fine balance that is needed can be a little elusive. That's all.
It's communicating this to one's spouse in a manner that will come across without offending and, just as importantly, listening to her replies with as few preconceived notions as possible that's the important bit. The sometimes touchy subjects reveal what a monstrous gap there still can be in communication between the sexes.
This is not a revelation.
So we got our hot chocolate and started to walk back home, sort of silently coming to the conclusion that social time, especially considering our current toddler-foetus scenario, has to be approached on a case-by-case basis.
One must also take into account the personalities that are at play. I've been hurt deeply before and want to ensure that I don't neglect myself again to the point where I forget that consideration for my Self must be prevalent in all that I do. Without taking it to the extreme of being self-centred. Amy's been taken advantage of before and vowed never again to be the sucker in a relationship. Neither does she want to come across as hard-headed. But we're both bloody stubborn.
Neither one of us would be who we are were it not for our previous experiences and, though sometimes convoluted and uncomfortably sordid, they must be respected for contributing to the journey thus far. It is equally important, then, not to allow them to cast aspersions on the here and now, colouring the present with unnecessary dirty laundry from the past.
Like I said, a fine balance.
Asking simple, open-ended questions can lead to very interesting conversations. And I love it. Where's the fun and challenge in 'easy' I ask you.
Men really are mostly stunningly simple creatures. Feed me, play with my penis and give me some precious time. I'm all yours, baby!
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