The Seminar

My wife and I are not the most social people.

If you place us at work (her in retail and me in a training environment) we come alive and vibrant and full on confidence. Put us in other social situations and suddenly we lurk in the corner like…like someone who lurks…someone real lurky. I was going to say like a member of the Addams family but even they embraced their kookiness and were really outgoing. I was going to say like the Unabomber but he wasn’t married. But you get the point, we’re not the real outgoing social party people.

So when my wife and I went to the seminar we new their was going to be some awkwardness.

When I got home from work my wife was sprawled out on the couch. My forced cheerful enthusiasm wasn’t budging her. Her mumbled monosyllabic answers told me I was going to have to push the enthusiasm.  I felt like she wasn’t exactly happy about going. I totally get it. She had already told me that she was convinced the whole “seminar” thing was really a slick way of having to sit through a “time share style” presentation only to be followed by some high pressure sales tactics. “If you let us fertilize your eggs now, we’ll throw in a three night two day all expenses paid vacation in downtown Bakersfield. Just sign this 3 child auto-renewing contract”

I get her concern. I still want a baby.

I know she feels the same way I do. I know she’s counting on me to smile and charm her into going.

It works.

For a little while.

Until we get there.

Our first time pulling into the parking lot there are two things that jump to our attention. 1) It’s a much much smaller building than we thought and 2) there is only 1 other car in the parking lot. Hmmm, I smell time share!

So we sit in the car in the parking lot for a good 10 minutes. Do we go in? Do we not go in? There is a lot of talk about how I don’t understand how intrusive this. A lot of talk about how as I guy don’t get poked and prodded and invaded the way she does. A lot of talk about her shame, fear, and embarrassment of a body that isn’t a 19 anymore. A body that PCOS has kicked around.

I get it. I remind her that just because we are scared to do something doesn’t we shouldn’t do it. Apparently my dime store wisdom doesn’t sink in because she angrily gets out of the car telling me the one word every husband and even every boyfriend dreads hearing.

The F word.


She’s determined to do this in part to spite me. To show me she can do it. I know that deep down she wants to it too. She wants it as badly as me. She’s just more scared than I am. “Terror makes a man cruel” said Bronte in Wuthering Heights. Well well listen to me being all uppity and quoting a Bronte. Aren’t I a fancy dan?

True though despite the fancy schmancy source. Fear does an can make a person mean. I know my wife’s anger is just anxiety and fear. At least suppose it is. OK, ok, even if I am completely wrong it makes me sleep better thinking the reason she got pissed off at me was because she was scared. It couldn’t have possible be anything I did or said. Not me. How could I have said something insensitive? Not me at all, its all her.

Have I really been married so long that I am starting to hear my wife’s comments in my own head?


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