Friday, April 17, 2009

Ad Nauseum.

It is likely I will never stop playing with my facial hair.
So she informs me she will never stop yelling.

If I had set out to play a game, I would continue: I will not even consider having children with you until you stop yelling.
And she would continue, as well: I will not have sex with you unless you stop playing with your facial hair.

But I never set out to play a game, nor did I set out to argue. An involuntary action is precisely what it sounds to be: involuntary. Involuntary implies a lack of intention. Playing this game would be quite voluntary.

I accept that my wife does not shave her legs or armpits. I accept that she often does not finish eating what is on her plate or drinking what is in her glass, even if portions are adjusted accordingly. I accept that she bats her eyelashes rapidly and inhales sharply through her teeth when she is nervous. I accept she is absolutely terrible at talking on the phone. I accept that she goes shopping when she is upset with me. I accept that she makes purchases with the disclaimer "I will return it if that is what you want" instead of speaking with me about it beforehand. I accept that she works on 20 projects at once and rarely finishes a single one. I accept that she complains about my breathing on her and complains when I am not close enough.

The list of quirks - even just the quirks that irritate me - is long. Yet, as much as they grate my nerves, I cannot bring myself to tell her to change. I cannot even bring myself to point these behaviors out more than once because of the response it provokes.

But maybe I have been going about this all wrong. Surely the world would be better if I were telling my wife once a day she was doing something I found to be a nuisance! If not the world, at least our marriage.

So the experiment begins.