THE REAL LABOR OF LOVE

Just a woman in love....

THE ORIGINAL LABOR OF LOVE

 

I love my husband, primarily because he fell in love with me when I was just starting menopause, and was un-medicated at that time for serious anger issues.  He is smart, knows how to fix s**t, and loves cats.  He is a phenomenal cook and puts much love and care into his creations.

 

Why you gaggin’?!  Oh!  Never mind, where is it? I don’t understand how men/boys, who are inherently kinda gross, cannot clean up cat puke, dog s**t/piss, or change wound dressings!  Jeezus!  If I had a dollar for every gross mess I’ve had to deal with I might have some of that “Oprah” money!

 

Back to what I was saying, Mr. B. has accepted and even embraced my philosophy of not needing another to repair damaged psyches from past relationships, but wanting someone for who they are and who they make you be. He buys thoughtful gifts, as he pays attention to off-hand remarks I might make like “That’s cute!” or “I’m thinking about ordering (fill-in-the-blank).

 

Is this an empty Ziploc box in the drawer?  Seriously!?  Throw.  Garbage.  In.  The.  Garbage.  I’d even let not replacing it slide, but empty containers in the cabinets/drawers will send me to the dark side for good, one day….he don’t eeeeven know….

 

Anyhoo, Mr. B. is romantic and some of the sweetest things can come out of mouth to rival any lyric by Boys II Men or Luther Vandross.  He remembers birthdays and anniversaries and generally spends way more than I do on these occasions.

 

Is he actually speaking to me?  I just scraped up dried cat vomit that has been on the floor since 30 minutes after I left for work this morning, threw away his Ramen noodle wrapper left on the counter and he wants to tell me about some buuullshit he saw on the news?  I think he is…his mouth is moving and he is looking in my direction…*bowing head in prayer* Dear Lord, please protect this man from all dangerous people in this world…and me.  Amen.

 

Marriage is not so much hard, as it is work, the real and first “labor of love”.  When you love what you do, it’s not a job but a career.  There are no time clocks, or 50/50 share-sies, but whoever has the skill set and ability at any point in the relationship is the ranking senior supervisor.  This role can be switched in a day, a week, or, when there is real dedication, years.

 

Can the man not tell by the look on my face that my work day was long, filled with talking to misinformed snotty young “professionals” who think they are talking to some pasty middle-aged white lady, that the traffic would have sent Job into a rage, and he’s chatty as a nervous cheerleader at her first boy/girl party talking to her crush.  The more noise that comes out of his face, the clearer the image of the scalpel, dipped in salt, that I visualize using to skin his face…off.  He’s the disabled one, but I’m the one who’s gonna stroke right the f**k out, if he don’t Shut.  Up.

 

People, understand that real love, deep down, not-going-anywhere love also encompasses hate.  They are two extreme ends of the same spectrum.  The killer of romance, love, marriages is not hate and discontent…but indifference.  If I didn’t love him so much, I would not be able to think of horrific ways to torture him.  I wouldn’t care….

 

Reviews

[roarke]

Sounds like real love to me. I really like the duality of narrative here, the contrast it lends adds volumes to your perspective. Next time I'm not gonna whine about cleaning out the Augean Stables like Hercules did... lol.

[Beccy]

'whoever has the skill set and ability at any point in the relationship is the ranking senior supervisor.'

Now if everyone understood that, there wouldn't be a divorce lawyer left standing. :))

Just read several of your pieces, 'not dead,' 'day three,' 'it's a good day when,' and I really enjoyed them all.

Beccy.

[barleygirl]

This is well-designed using alternating paragraph structures . . . and definitely cringe-worthy due to your self-honesty (a rare delight). Thank you for reminding me why I never married & at age 61, no regrets. I would be the b***h you describe & I just don't want to be, so I'm better off alone. Some people are more motivated by companionship, I guess. It's always good to see & feel how it is on the other side of life (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

Carol- That last line slays-for real! So true! Every line in this heart-breakingly personal and honest story could have been about me & W.( my Knight in Shining-but frayed-Armor). I feel your love story so deeply. The two of you, the committment, the ebb and flow, the twists of life, the give and take and give some more. You said it- I recognize it. Your beautiful story should be bronzed and displayed in the Smithsonian! THIS IS 4-EVER LOVE RIGHT HERE! Brava my friend and may God always bless you & your true love...:)

[Carol Cashes]

You're right, I love him enough to not argue or b***h about cardboard containers and about that scalpel? Think about when Daffy Duck's wife slapped his bill completely off his face then told him to pick it up and sit on that egg! My version is just a little darker...

[Samuel Dickens]

As long as it works! I can't figure people out, although I foolishly still try. You and your husband remind me of my own situation, though the various attributes are switched around a bit. Yes, indifference can kill romance, but angry attacks and cruel words will sufficiently bludgeon it to death, also. I used to bring my wife flowers, but she cured me of it.
It's good to see you back and writing.

[Carol Cashes]

You're right about angry attacks and cruel words. However, it's not like I actually TELL him I'm devising torture methods in my head so I don't mouth off or start a fight because I can hear him breathing and I'm gauging the distance to insanity. *snort* Besides, I personally think most "arguments" are merely one person's determination to be acknowledged as "right" and nothing less is satisfactory. I jus' don't think empty containers PUT BACK IN THE PANTRY OR REFRIGERATOR is worth the drama. We all have our ways to "deal" and I fantasize about bizarre torture (think Daffy Duck's wife slapping his bell completely off his face, then telling him to pick it up and sit on that egg!) and keep my bad mood to myself until I feel civilized again.

And yeah, it's good to be writing again, even if it's a little dark...so has the last 6 weeks and it's gotta come out somewhere.

[Carol Cashes]

That's Daffy Duck's "bill" not bell. Sorry, new nails.