Fighting Around in Book Two: The Fifteenth Year of the Third Millennium of the Common Era

An entry that requires story before the meat.

Yesterday, Wife did a lot while I was trying to figure out Pathfinder with some friends. She assembled my new office chair, she cooked a meal that she was wanting to try, and she did a load of laundry. Sad to say it; but that is a pretty ambitious day-off for her. So, I didn’t even really mind that she wanted to spend our one night where we both have time off simply watching Star Trek Enterprise. That was fine. I got to do some more job hunting, a bit of on-line Christmas shopping, and then join her in the living room for a couple of episodes (of a show we’ve already watched a number of times).

Unfortunately, Wife has an extraordinary talent for spilling beverages. Which she does in this instance. She spills her beer all over the carpet. This always sends her into quite the rage. As she explains it: She’s mad at herself for being clumsy, she’s mad that there is now a mess, and she’s mad that she wasted something we paid for. So, she’s just very mad. I grab paper towels (as they are nearest) and start mopping up. She yells, “Why didn’t you get towels?” ::eyeroll:: So, I go get towels and clean the mess up. Two towels are absolutely drenched and her favorite blanket has a corner that got a little on it. I was going to do laundry anyway; so I told her it’d be all right and I’d take care of it the next day. She asks that I do the stuff that got wet first so that it “doesn’t get more sticky.”

At this point, it is after midnight and I’m looking to go to bed. She asks me not to. Because she wants to try to get a 15 to 20 minute head start on trying to sleep. So, we’ve reached the point in our marriage where… Wife doesn’t want to go to bed until late, but also doesn’t want me to go to sleep before her because my snoring may interfere with her getting to sleep. Fuck it. I don’t have to work the next morning, I acquiesce. In fact, even after she falls asleep a little bit of that pain induced insomnia sneaks in. It takes a few hours for me to fall asleep. Yet, it certainly wasn’t a sound sleep. Because (at least 6 times to my count) while I was sleeping; I’d be woken up by Wife jabbing her fingernails into my back to wake me up because my snoring was “too loud and too annoying.”

Grumph. So, I say screw it and do some work around the apartment. Read a little and cruise Facebook. Around 9 am, I check the laundry room… all ready in use. Whatevers. I wait another hour and start laundry. I place the soaked towels and some work clothes in the laundry. My policy is pretty much always Work Clothes in the first load; that way if the laundry room gets overrun by jackasses… at least we’ll have something to wear for work. When Wife sees that her favorite blanket has not been placed in the very first load, she flips. Not in the mood to hear her shit she sets me up for a good retort… she says something along the lines of “the whole point being to keep the blanket from getting more sticky.” To which I say: No the whole point of this (indicating the argument) is that, again, you’ve told me to do something, I’ve done something but not the exact way you want, and so you’re pissed. Like usual.”

That argument ends and another 2 hours pass by. I grab stuff out of the laundry and, per our usual methods, I sort out her clothes from my clothes… as I am not allowed to fold her clothes since I “don’t do it right.” Apparently, she wanted to change the agreement. Because she starts pulling the t-shirts out of my pile. I ask her why she’s doing that, and she states it is because she will be folding the T-Shirts. So… what? I’m not even allowed to fold my own shirts now?

After that, she tries to go after my desk. Seriously? I have only two places in this apartment that are mine… that are exclusively mine. My desk (since she has one of her own) and my bathroom sink (since our sinks are separated by a wall). This is another conversation/argument we go around and around and around about. I have lots of paperwork. I’m looking for a job. It is easier for me to keep things straight when I can see them. Perhaps not the easiest organizational approach; but out of sight, out of mind is a genuine danger for me when I get too busy or spread too thin. So having six to seven paper piles on my desk legitimately helps me keep track of what needs to happen where and when. Wife’s response is “I have to look at it and the messy disorganization bothers the crap out of me. I need to fix it!” No. You don’t. Really.

Speculation
The behavior isn’t entirely unfamiliar to me. I’ve seen it in a lot of members of my family; A Type personalities that could be considered “Control Freaks.” When they are stressed, they have to latch on to everything around them and place it under their direct control to make certain that nothing “goes wrong, is out of place, or feels disordered.” I do get it. I grew up with it. And, frankly, that is why I allow so much of my own living space to be occupied by “that which exists under Wife’s power.” And… in some ways, this may be what is going on with Wife. I say may because it is merely a theory and only a partial one; so there could be more or completely different things going on.

Advice
Seeing all of this from Husband perspective, though, certainly gives me the opportunity to share some potential advice with other Wives, Fiancees, Girlfriends, or what have you. If you actively don’t allow your husband to do things, especially if it is because (and/or you tell him) he can’t do things the way you want him to.... don’t be surprised if he stops helping. I’m anticipating an argument about this in a few weeks, actually. If, time after time after time, your Significant Other hears “No, don’t do that, you don’t know how, give me that”… your Significant Other will stop trying to help. Why should they help when every time, there is a freak out or argument or the work is taken away and they are told they “can’t do it properly.” Of course the Significant Other is going to stop helping. And when they do… don’t turn around and yell at them for not helping enough.

Concern
Here’s where I apply all of the things I know, view my over-zealous pattern finding as a positive and dive my head into places of potentially unrealistic worry.
My wife grew up an only child with parents that were much older than the parents of the other kids. She was solo and a bit isolated for a long time. She got very used to having things her way but she also got very used to being lonely.
THUS… she wants me around so she isn’t lonely; but doesn’t want me around because then she might have to compromise and/or get used to things she doesn’t like.
It is why she makes snoring a constant “You don’t get to sleep” argument. It is why I’m pretty much not allowed to get a pizza with pineapple on it. It is why she likes when I do the laundry, but flips when I try to fold. It is why my desk is a “key stressor” for her. It even applies to why she won’t say “I love you” or kiss me or have sex with me.
Which, if I’m right, explains why the whole marriage is a confusing semi-problem. She’s conflicted by her emotions towards me… thinking that everything will be fine if she doesn’t have to give up too much control, if she doesn’t have to compromise too much.... as long as she can still gain the benefits of being alone while keeping me around to diminish the drawbacks… that is what she sees marriage is.

That’s the concern at least. Or maybe I’m just being too cynical.