A Post In Which I’m Not Superwoman

In our daily strive for perfection, I’d like to think I’m ahead of the curve; of course I know that we’ll never fully achieve perfection, we can come close. I’m a lot of things. I’m an excellent cook, a great companion for my husband, a great mother to two rowdy dogs, the list goes on. However, I fall short a lot. Not only am I a busy business owner and freelancer, I take care of the house, I cook, I run several hobby groups and I still find time to entertain my manchild husband. I love all and wouldn’t trade my life for anyone else’s, even if she was a little prettier or younger. I have made myself seem like superwoman and sometimes my husband wonders how I make miracles from turning cheap food into masterpiece gourmet meals like some modern-day she-Jesus. To be honest, I surprise myself most times. I throw things in a skillet or pot and go “oh, this is going to be a disaster.” The funny part is, those are usually the ones we like the most: the accidentals, the “okay, let’s try this” . . . I’m thankful for my husband’s willingness to try anything I put in front of him, even if it looks weird. Nine times out of ten he is pleasantly surprised.

Speaking of, he is a wonderful man. We’re still considered newlyweds and that’s fine with me. It seems like we’ve been together forever, though, especially with the way we just know each other. We can finish each others’ sentences and usually anticipate each others’ needs. I’ll just chalk it up to us being very in tune with each other. Sometimes, though, we need a little hint, a push if you will. The little mister has always been receptive to when I ask for something, emotional or tangible. I’m very lucky in that respect. Especially when he is in a job that keeps him away from home 2-4 weeks at a time, it’s good to know that if I ask him for what I need, he won’t deny me. In fact, he goes out of his way to fill my requests. I’m a lucky girl indeed.

Sometimes, however, I just don’t feel like superwoman. Sometimes I want to be babied and taken care of. It’s not in a man’s nature to be nurturing and step in without A. being asked to and B. without being guided on how to do it. Men are not mind readers, so here is my open letter to my wonderful, amazing, handsome and brilliant husband. Maybe it will inspire you to make one for your own.

Dear Little Mister,

You are the most important thing in the world to me. I love our life together, including (but not only including) our dogs, our new place in our new city, the great relationship we have, how well our hobbies match and last but not least, our amazing love. You are the greatest thing that happened to me in my life and I will forever be thankful to the force that brought us together. You’re not only a great husband; you’re my best friend. You make me want to be better, you push me to keep going when sometimes I would rather give up. You treat me as a partner and equal, and our mutual respect for each other is most important to me.

You know I have asked for you to do certain things for me when I need it, whether it be a romantic night out or a night away somewhere. You’re great about doing things like taking out the trash, usually without asking. I wish sometimes you would take a little more initiative on the romance front, you know, planning a night for me when you know I’ve had a rough time of it lately. It doesn’t kill me that you haven’t done this, but it would earn so many brownie points that I can’t even begin to describe them.

You’re way smarter than I am. I know this, and so do you. When I’m at a tournament and complaining about something crappy happening, don’t be condescending to me. Don’t talk to me like I should have expected to fail. Instead, say “don’t worry babe, you’ll do better next time,” and give me a hug. If you’re having a rough day at a tournament, try not to take it out on me. I didn’t do it. And I promise I’ll hug you and tell you that it wasn’t your fault and you’ll do better next time, because it’s true. You’re a good player and a great, smart person. Crap happens.

I love our awesome life together. I love that sometimes it’s hard for us to keep our hands off of each other. However, sometimes I just want a loving touch. Try just touching my hair. Look at me like I’m the most important thing in your life. We have grown complacent in some ways since you being home all the time, and I miss the excitement from when we missed each other. I love having you home all the time, but I miss the way you’d make me feel not only loved completely, but so special. I haven’t felt special in a while.

I want you to know that these things are minor gripes. They’re things that, if they didn’t change, I could easily live with. It also sucks because it’s so much more magnified as I sit here bored, sad, tired, and ignored while I play the third wheel to you and your friend and have for hours. It’s literally been hours since you came in and even checked on me, and the only thing you did was take your dick out and wipe it on my face when you did. Right now at this very moment I’m feeling awful and you probably won’t even understand why when I try to tell you. So I don’t. I’m sure tomorrow I’ll be fine, though, so don’t worry.

Edited to add:
It’s the next day. I was super angry and upset about this last paragraph last night, and it almost caused a fight. I would like to add one thing to my little open letter. If I’m clearly not wanting to talk about what’s wrong, I know in my head I’m probably making a bigger deal out of something than I should, and I’m trying to wait for it to blow over. Did it bother me that I was left ignored for hours while you hung out and had fun when it was supposed to be all of us? Sure. But there was nothing I could do, and it wasn’t that big of an offense. Funny how alcohol magnifies every little negative emotion.

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