The past month has been packed with numerous events, such as birthdays, end-of-season school celebrations, holidays, and overnight guests. Not that I have much free time, but I have been indulging in some captivating romance stories, each leaving me with a sense of longing in my heart. I am drawn to fantasy romance due to my own relationship’s lack of excitement and feelings of loneliness. For a brief period, I can escape reality and envision lying on the hot sand with a stranger I had just met on a ferry boat.
I recently finished Roomies by Christina Lauren. WOW. I couldn’t put it down. How she describes Holland’s inner dialogue is both hysterical and completely realistic. I was envious of how this complete stranger could adore her so quickly. And how many other women desire a partner who pledges to reunite with them for a fantastic weekend every year, just like in Colleen Hoover’s November 9 or Elin Hilderbrand’s 28 Summers? The feeling of being wanted is what we all crave, isn’t it?
While I was immersing myself in some fictional setting, Phil was digesting how to season and cook ribs properly. He decided he was going to tackle the meal on a Sunday afternoon. Although I appreciated him taking on the day’s responsibility for cooking, I felt it was a waste of food and time. After all, in a household of six people, only he and our oldest son like barbecue, and as a non-meat-eater, I wouldn’t be having any. I advised him not to cook too much.
Fast forward to dinner time, and he places a whole rack of ribs and thick sausage on my plate. I scooped out some salad and remained quiet. Our two youngest immediately expressed their disgust. Our table is quite a large old farmhouse table, but not so large that we can’t pass each other items from the other side. Phil stood up and walked to my side, not five minutes into dinner. I thought he was reaching for salad, but he was checking on my plate.
It was a game of some sort. You would’ve thought I called him some horrific name. Phil stood beside me and looked down at my plate, asking, “You’re not even going to try it?”
He stormed out of the dining room, throwing away all the barbeque sauce as he walked through the kitchen. My oldest looked at me and made a face. “Mom, that was a dick move. You should’ve at least tried it.”
As an adult, why can’t I live in a house where I can choose what to eat? Phil completely ignored me for the next TWO days. He walked past me in the house multiple times without saying a word. I knew it wasn’t about the dinner. But yet again, he left me trying to figure out what was going on in his head. I know he’s had feelings of loneliness as well. I had two days to reflect on how much I dislike walking on eggshells because his behavior does not make me feel safe. He still uses the silent treatment even after ten years of marriage and nearly thirteen years together. What is that word everyone says is the most important? Communication!
When the time did come for him to approach me, he didn’t exactly explain why he was angry or what he was feeling. He had drunk too much, and his emotions got the best of him. To which I had told him exactly what I’d been feeling for some time now. “I’m indifferent.” I don’t get mad anymore and have zero desire to fight. I just want him to get the hell out of my way.
