The scene: a quiet evening at the KB household. KB is at the computer, checking the news; the wife is at the table looking at ways to spend KBs money on the internet.
“I think I’ll go take a shower,” my wife says.
“Okay. Have fun.”
“Yeah, I’ll go do it in a minute. Actually can you help me put the flea stuff on the cats?”
“…okay.” We took an interlude to locate the cats and apply the Flea Juice to their fur. Satisfied, my wife again announced her intentions to go take a shower, and then wandered off into the bedroom. She came back out moments later, half undressed, and asked me what I planned on packing in for an upcoming trip. Not the question I had hoped for but such is marriage.
“I don’t care. The red suitcase, I guess. We should bring an empty, too, to bring things back with.”
“Well which toiletry bag do you want?”
“Um…I don’t know, the blue one, I guess.”
“Okay, well, that’s the only one I can reach in this closet, so I’ll get it out.” She got the bag out and set it on the coffee table. “Okay, I’m off to the showers now.” For some reason this irked me.
“Fine. Enjoy the shower.” Just go take the fucking shower, I thought to myself. You’ve been talking about it for half an hour.
She made it almost to the bathroom before she turned around and started talking about the grocery list. She went through it item by item and then meal by meal for the next week, a hilarious twist since she never, ever cooks or even makes an effort to eat with me, preferring instead to eat after I’ve gone to bed. She then asked me some questions about the list, and, for the fourth time, told me she was off to the shower.
She made it back into the bedroom, and then came back out again and began to talk about a recent exam she took. She reviewed several questions, talking at me more than to me, and then dissected in great detail her emotions about the test. This went on for some time before–again–she announced her intentions to shower.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll believe that when I see it,” I said.
“WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS SO MEAN TO ME?” she screamed, then ran off to the bathroom and got into the shower.
::::::
The shower incident is just a minor thing, but it’s revealing to me in that it shows an undercurrent of tension between us. And undeniably it’s been a tense couple of months. I am burned out in my work, and burned out in my marriage. I have spent the last several years supporting her as she pursues her education, and I have made many sacrifices in my life to help her. Lately I have been feeling used: she never shows appreciation, always demands to know how much overtime I plan to work, and just seems to expect that I’ll drop everything to follow at her beck and call. Quite frankly, I am sick to death of it. I have sacrificed my own goals and a huge chunk of my income to support her. I have wasted my early twenties working overtime to get money to support her. And I get jack shit for it.
Now, on top of it all, her school may be uprooting us to move her to another city for her studies. I’m not that enthusiastic about moving to any of the cities offered. I’m not that enthusiastic about uprooting myself and starting from scratch in a new city that is far too urban for my taste. I am especially not that enthusiastic about spending another two irreplaceable years of my life working my ass off to support her and getting nothing in return for it.
I’m just plain burned out. I don’t know what the cure is for all this. I’m just over it.
The scene: a quiet evening at the KB household. KB is at the computer, checking the news; the wife is at the table looking at ways to spend KBs money on the internet.
“I think I’ll go take a shower,” my wife says.
“Okay. Have fun.”
“Yeah, I’ll go do it in a minute. Actually can you help me put the flea stuff on the cats?”
“…okay.” We took an interlude to locate the cats and apply the Flea Juice to their fur. Satisfied, my wife again announced her intentions to go take a shower, and then wandered off into the bedroom. She came back out moments later, half undressed, and asked me what I planned on packing in for an upcoming trip. Not the question I had hoped for but such is marriage.
“I don’t care. The red suitcase, I guess. We should bring an empty, too, to bring things back with.”
“Well which toiletry bag do you want?”
“Um…I don’t know, the blue one, I guess.”
“Okay, well, that’s the only one I can reach in this closet, so I’ll get it out.” She got the bag out and set it on the coffee table. “Okay, I’m off to the showers now.” For some reason this irked me.
“Fine. Enjoy the shower.” Just go take the fucking shower, I thought to myself. You’ve been talking about it for half an hour.
She made it almost to the bathroom before she turned around and started talking about the grocery list. She went through it item by item and then meal by meal for the next week, a hilarious twist since she never, ever cooks or even makes an effort to eat with me, preferring instead to eat after I’ve gone to bed. She then asked me some questions about the list, and, for the fourth time, told me she was off to the shower.
She made it back into the bedroom, and then came back out again and began to talk about a recent exam she took. She reviewed several questions, talking at me more than to me, and then dissected in great detail her emotions about the test. This went on for some time before–again–she announced her intentions to shower.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll believe that when I see it,” I said.
“WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS SO MEAN TO ME?” she screamed, then ran off to the bathroom and got into the shower.
::::::
The shower incident is just a minor thing, but it’s revealing to me in that it shows an undercurrent of tension between us. And undeniably it’s been a tense couple of months. I am burned out in my work, and burned out in my marriage. I have spent the last several years supporting her as she pursues her education, and I have made many sacrifices in my life to help her. Lately I have been feeling used: she never shows appreciation, always demands to know how much overtime I plan to work, and just seems to expect that I’ll drop everything to follow at her beck and call. Quite frankly, I am sick to death of it. I have sacrificed my own goals and a huge chunk of my income to support her. I have wasted my early twenties working overtime to get money to support her. And I get jack shit for it.
Now, on top of it all, her school may be uprooting us to move her to another city for her studies. I’m not that enthusiastic about moving to any of the cities offered. I’m not that enthusiastic about uprooting myself and starting from scratch in a new city that is far too urban for my taste. I am especially not that enthusiastic about spending another two irreplaceable years of my life working my ass off to support her and getting nothing in return for it.
I’m just plain burned out. I don’t know what the cure is for all this. I’m just over it.