Me: I haven't, your text mentioned a certain narrator. Let me guess, it sounded something like "Heigh budgh-dee ..." Not to offend those who may have extra chromosome, that kid's dad sounds like a retard when he baby talks.
Bestie: He sounds like he's deaf. I just about died listening to him talk like that. It's horrible. Jace is really cute though.
Me: So hubby broke silence this morning. It's so silly. I mean, we're laying there in bed. At one point I was spooning him, and put my arm over him so I could pet the dog. A while later we turn and face the other way. He purposefully left space between us. So I say, "Be careful not to accidentally cuddle me. We wouldn't want that now would we. Maybe we should place some pillows between us." And he says maybe we should. So that's when I ask him why he's being a boob. He tells me he's not. Then says it's because I yelled at him the past two nights.
Bestie: And why did you yell at him?
Me: I yelled at him because he doused me, and my food, with Windex. Despite what you may have seen in the movies about fat Greeks getting hitched, Windex is a potentially harmful chemical. He says it's been around for 50 years. I told him so has he.
Bestie: OK, there's something going on below the surface of Windex.
Me: So I ask him how he's feeling. He tells me he's neither engaged nor disengaged as a coping mechanism. I say if he's not engaged than he's disengaged, then ask what he's coping with. He didn't want to tell me because he said I would just get pissed off. So I told him his husband would like to know and promised to listen. He then shared that he's tired of feeling like he doesn't have a voice. That I call all the shots down to what we eat. That I criticize him for eating things not on my list. One time that happened. He was eating KFC, I rolled my eyes and shook my head. A bit judgie, yes, it was KF-fucking-C.
Bestie: Yeah, my fiancé thought KFC was an acceptable thing to bring to a pool party in the hills. Um, no. That's the kind of food you bring home to eat in private and throw immediately away.
Me: No, that's the kind of food you eat in the privacy of your own car in the dark of night and immediately incinerate the evidence before returning home. He left those containers in the refrigerator for over a week!
Bestie: (sigh) Our bathroom hadn't been cleaned for three weeks. It was disgusting. The last time my parents were here, my mom wouldn't even step foot in the bathroom until she gave it a thorough cleaning from top to bottom. So part of Jordan and my counseling agreement is if he is going to do something, and he hasn't done it, he has to tell me when he's going to do it. So last week he tells me he's going to do it this weekend.
Me: And he finally got around to it?
Bestie: After I started pulling things like mats out of the bathroom. He more than got the hint and was a little upset. He expects me to be all nice about it. I was nice when we talked about it three weeks ago. Last week I started losing my nice. And this week between that and his empty water jug hoarding on the front stoop I just wasn't havin' it. Hello, if you don't want to be bossed around get off your ass and get shit done. I need a vacation. I want to go to Hawaii for maybe a long weekend when Gia's six months. Do you have any interest in going to Hawaii?
Me: Well ...
Bestie: I know, it's totally boring there.
Me: Boring can be interesting, I don't mind boring. I'd rather go to Sedona. You've been to Hawaii. Didn't you and your sister ride mountain bikes down the side of a volcano?
Bestie: Yeah, that's right, and I gave the only wedding toast for this couple who are friends of my sister. They stayed in this house they really couldn't afford. They had a bologna tray. Other than that there was no food, no beer or wine. It was a total joke, a really bad one. Like I was looking around for hidden cameras thinking we're being punked. Then they took us to this restaurant and we all had to pay our own way.
Me: How gracious?
Bestie: I know, right. Maybe I'll plan and surprise Jordan with a trip to Hawaii. So where did you leave things with Terry?
Me: That's just it, it's kind of nebulous. He apparently took issue with me moving money from my business into our joint account and paying off his car loan with it. We discussed and jointly agreed to do that. So I say, you're welcome. He says there's nothing to be grateful for. Really?!
Bestie: Wow, he sounds a lot like your mom, kind of entitled. Just expects things to be a certain way. How entitled.
Me: So then I ask him more about this last weekend and his feeling of being detached from his emotions. He said he has felt this way for a long time about me calling the shots. He said he wants to experience more joy and feels like he doesn't have a life outside of us. Those last two things have very little if anything to do with me. I also found it odd on Saturday we were essentially doing the same thing, working our asses off to clear space for finishing up our basement. He had a miserable day. I had a wonderful day. I was so happy I was able to do as much, that I had the stamina and endurance which has evaded me for the past few years. I felt so grateful. Then he tells me he was in a bad mood Saturday because he woke up cranky for me having yelled at him the night before. So we're back to his KFC containers in the refrigerator for more than a week, crowding out the real food in there. It's silly, I know, and I told him I'm not proud of either of my knee-jerk reactions over the weekend.
Bestie: He has the job he wanted and loves. He has a very nice car, which he loves. You guys have a beautiful home that has lovely furnishings. What doesn't he have? Someone like him would really benefit from having a daily gratitude journal.
Me: As hard as it was to listen to him criticize me, I did it with some degree of restraint. I even offered to work on my "control" issues. Then I said to him experiencing more joy is a very vague, broad concept and asked if he could let me know more about what that looks like. He said he doesn't know how to explain what that looks like. I let him know that along with him having a life outside of us is entirely up to him to change if he chooses. Then he clams up. I asked him to share with me what his ideas are for moving forward. He didn't utter a word for a while. Then he tells me he's tired. Yet I reminded him he woke us up at 6:00 a.m. watching TV on his phone. He said it was YouTube and Facebook. Video then, whatever, what's the difference? He woke us up and now he's conveniently tired because he's being questioned.
Bestie: You've done a lot. Whether he appreciates it is another thing. Kind of bratty if you ask me. He'll come around.
Me: So what will you do one day when I call and just want to talk with Gia?
Bestie: You can call her on her phone.
Me: She'll be too young to have a phone of her own for many years.
Bestie: Well then if you want to talk to her you can just buy her a God damn phone, and then you can fucking call her on it. How about that?
Me: Ed? Ed Montoya? Is that you? You're so your father's daughter.
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