Wednesday, 12 December 2007
Is it just me or do I sense a hint of disdain for the kind of hug she's getting?
I once saw a painting called The Embrace. It was painted by Egon Schiele, who happens to be one of the mister's all-time favourites. He (Schiele, not the mister) studied/worked with Gustav Klimt- who makes my knees buckle everytime I see a piece. They make love and relationships look so easy. The passion and electricity that's displayed between the subjects makes me want to go up to the painting and touch it, taste it, breathe it in. I can't help it, I'm a very touchy-feely person.
What they fail to tell you, however, is that in reality, the scene that's depicted probably happens only a few times a month, ideally when the two people in question aren't arguing or stressed and are on the same page. And one person ultimately has to ask the other person to pay attention to them for 5 minutes. You get what you want, but not instantly, that's for sure. And here's the script that usually goes along with it:
Mister: Hey, how was your day?
myshka: Yeah, ok I guess. Just a bit drained today.
M: Oh. Well, don't let it get you down. So, what are we doing for dinner tonight? Did we record the football? Oh, I'm going out with the guys tomorrow night..
m: Yeah, whatever. Fine. Great, glad you're having fun while I'm stuck here (this is a horrible tactic of mine to make myself sound really miserable- it's the adult equivalent of stomping my feet and whining to make the other person feel bad for me. No, I'm not proud of it.). Can you please slow down and let me tell you about how I feel? I'm stressed and I need attention.
M: Well, stop moaning to me about it and say something. You're being so miserable.
m: I wasn't moaning. I'm just sressed because so much stuff isn't sorted yet, and we have to start planning Christmas, and work is getting on my nerves because people think I know everything but I actually don't and I keep digging for information that no one seems to have. I feel invisible, we never seem to have time together, and I need lots of hugs and attention and I'm also PMS-ing, which makes me want to cry at the drop of a hat these past few days. I need you to tell me I'm gorgeous and that you love me despite me nagging and being so crabby. And I feel bloated and unsexy and just generally like a big emotional tub of goo.
M: So what exactly is the problem that you have to solve? Because it's not fair of you to just rant at me to make yourself feel better. You just end up getting me stressed out.
m: I don't need a problem solved! What is it with you men?! Why can't you just run up to me and give me a huge hug if you see my face looking sad?! Why do I have to ask for things and explain them to you??
M: Because I'm not a freaking mind reader, you crazy woman. So, you still haven't said anything. What exactly do you need then?
m: I just need a big hug.
M: Oh. Okay.
Mission accomplished. Amazing what great medicine that love stuff is. I just have to remember that sometimes I need to speak up to get a little extra.
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1 comment:
I like that, a bit of sass and a bit of admitting an absence of invincibility.
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