To The Man That I Married,
Today I felt like taking your every belonging out of the house and scattering it on the front lawn. Your toothbrush would be crawling with ants, your boxers would have mud on them, and I am pretty sure that ceramic bull thing would lose his other horn in the process. I would finally be rid of the stinky shoes that permeate our tiny closet. The pitching out of your alarm clock would be most satisfying and I would rejoice as your beat up old suitcase that has been sitting on our bedroom floor unpacked for months landed hard on the dirt with an exhilarating "Fah-whump!"
Seething, I crept up on that big ceramic bull. He smiled a big bully grin right at me as I put my arms around his body and went to lift him. Then I noticed the crack in his horn where one night we put this guy back together. Yup, together. Damn. I let go of the bull, still gritting my teeth.
I twisted my wedding ring and sighed. Why do you make me go into panic mode? When things go sour between us why do I feel like running away...or more conveniently for me, pushing you out the door? Things weren't that bad, and certainly we would kiss and make up pretty soon. But why the fear? And when did you become butt head of the month?
The bull was still smiling at me. I smirked back. He'd been around before me. He's seen you through a lot. I would hate to traumatize him more.
The thing is, Baby, you have all of me. I have made myself vulnerable to you by giving you the kind of love that I have. And yeah, it scares me. It's like fight or flight with my emotions. I want to run away, hiding them under my coat, and keep them safe from harm. It took me a long time for me to entrust them to you. I can't stand to let them be stomped on again. I might never give them back.
So instead of tossing out your toothbrush it is sitting on the bathroom counter soaking in Listerine just because. And your shirts are folded and smell like Downy. I dusted off the bull and the suitcase...well, I left it there. I hope you do something with it soon or I will pack you up in it and ship you to Timbuktu.
I'm still not speaking to you. I want to make that perfectly clear. But through the silence those actions speak. And they say that I still am in love with you you stupid, insensitive, hard headed boar of a man. Ask the bull. He will tell you everything.
Love,
Your Wife
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
The Begrudged Love Letter
Posted by Wendy at 11:15 PM
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 comments:
Post a Comment