Disappointed. Hurt. Rejected. Unimportant and unloved. Ugh.😥 And all because of an unexpected phone call.
I guess the phone call being unexpected is not entirely accurate. For me, it was unexpected. But for my wife? It was expected. Until it wasn’t. Make sense?
Let me clarify, Dickmoji. I meant that the phone call was simply something on her calendar that she forgot until a few moments before it was slated to begin. That was it. Nothing more to it than that.
We all do that, don’t we? We forget shit all the time—phone calls included. And I’m substantially more prone to short-term memory loss than most. Missed car keys, lost cell phones, skipped appointments. You name, I do it. Like a boss. So what was it about my wife’s calendar faux pas that was so problematic? Honestly? Nothing. Well, except for it leading to the feelings I’m having right at this fucking moment.
Which one, Dickmoji?
What the fuck are you…Oh, I get it. The “my wife’s calendar faux pas..leading to the feelings.” That phrasing. I see what you’re saying, Dickmoji. I certainly didn’t mean it that way, but…
Before I get myself into more trouble, I need to take a step back and ask the five whys, a problem-solving tool used to get to the root cause of a situation.
My five whys would go like this:
I was feeling sad and rejected:
- Why? My wife and I didn’t make time to be intimate with one another.
- Why? Life’s scheduling conflicts didn’t allow for it.
- Why? A forgotten calendar event conflicted with our together-time.
- Why? We all make mistakes.
- Why? We’re human.
Well that didn’t really help did it. Of course we’re all human. That doesn’t mean…
Yes, Dickmoji?
Fuck you, Dick…
Timeout, Dickmoji. Generally, I think I’m a pretty cool dude. But I also know that I’m an asshole…at times. Specific times. Therefore, you’ve gotta be more specific, Dickmoji: to which asshole moment are you referring?
Again, more specific. Because even though I never intentionally do so, I’m sure my actions have added stress to Nikki from time to time.
What are you even fucking talking about, Dickmoji?I never…I…Oh my god, you’re right, Dickmoji. Again! And I fucking strongly dislike that. Because you’re an idiot and…
Sigh. Yes. Yes, you’re right. And that’s a cold hard fact to be hit with, staring in the mirror. Because—inadvertent or not—this isn’t the first time you’ve pressured Nikki for sex. And that’s pretty fucking shitty of you, brah.
No joke. Pretty shitty indeed. But at least I came to that realization on my own, looking in the mirror, rather than for it to be pointed out to my by some silly cartoon avatar. At least…
Ugh. Yes, you did.
Yes.
Yes. Yes you did, Dickmoji. It was you’re prodding that allowed me to reflect a bit. So thanks. I guess.
Because it doesn’t feel very good. It doesn’t…
No. No, I wouldn’t. You’re right. Again. I do want to know when I’ve fucked up. I want to improve. I want to be that best version of myself. But sometimes, looking at your own flaws isn’t very easy.
I have pressured Nikki for sex. There. I said it out loud and I wrote it down. And now, I need to come to grips with it.
My pressuring didn’t come in the form of badgering or verbal demands. And I certainly didn’t physically pressure Nikki. My pressure came in the form of sulking, like a little child who didn’t get their way.
Yeah. Tell me about it, Dickmoji. I acted like a baby. My fucking expectations have repeatedly caused strife in my life, which in turn has caused strife in the lives of those around me.
I paint this picture in my mind and when things don’t play out that way, I get even more inside my head. And round and fucking round we go. I’d like to get off this ride, please.
I wonder if it’s an issue of control? Not like I’m trying to control my wife—I have zero desire to do that and it would be impossible anyway. She’s super smart and independent, and someone would have to have superhero-like powers of manipulative, which I don’t possess. And besides, we have a healthy practice of encouraging each other to “do our own thing,” to see our friends, to enjoy our own hobbies and to be our own person. No, it’s definitely not about controlling Nikki. But perhaps my expectation disappointments are related to…
…wanting to have control over my own life.
—Me
As humans, we desire to be in control. At least, that’s what I’ve heard. The unknown is scary. And the fact is, life is chock full of things that are out of our control. For me personally, I’ve dedicated a bit of my journal to this, acknowledging the inability to determine vast swaths of our existence. We can lead the healthiest lifetime, but still get cancer. I can walk outside and get hit by a truck, I can win the lottery, my house can catch on fire, or my daughter can become pregnant. As much as we plan, we just don’t know much of anything.
Although wildly incomplete, I dedicate a few pages to list what’s in and out of our personal control. And my journal is also filled with quotes, touching on this topic. Like the one above or the one below.
The first quote, “Man plans, God laughs,” is pretty straightforward. Regardless of whether you actually believe in a god or not, the message is the same: humans can plan all they want, but if fate has other ideas, you’re outta luck. You can plan a trip to the beach, but instead, your mother dies. Or you go to the store and grab eggs to make breakfast for your wife, but return home to a flooded basement from a leaking hot water heater. We just don’t know much of anything, from one moment to the next. That’s life.
For the second quote, I included a little visual context. It’s from Dr. Who, a long-standing sci-fi series that originated in the early 60’s and is still on the air today. The main character is The Doctor, a human-appearing alien scientist that travels through time and space, usually accompanied by a sidekick. Now over the course of its run, there have been plenty of shitty interactions. Every few years The Doctor regenerates, transforming into a new physical form, with a new personality. Unfortunately, some of those transformations didn’t really hit the mark. Crappy actors + slow paced plots = painful viewing. But there are also plenty of excellent renditions as well. High quality acting and emotional stories have led to countless memorable episodes. One of those episodes and its most epic scene—is shown above.
There’s so much I love about the exchange between The Doctor and his traveling sidekick, Clara. The Doctor obviously deeply cared for Clara, as if she were his own daughter. He was trying to shield her from the dangers of interstellar travel and the evil life forms that are oftentimes encountered. But Clara pushed back, noting that life is never safe, and even if it was, she wouldn’t want that. Her life with The Doctor was more exhilarating than she could’ve ever dreamed of and a return to a “normal” existence wasn’t something she remotely desired. And then there’s the quote I copied into my journal: “Tomorrow is promised to no one Doctor, but I insist upon my past.” It’s profoundly beautiful, and it brings chills to my forearms, typing right now.
But, her statement isn’t entirely accurate either. Yes, tomorrow isn’t promised. But either is our past. Memories fade with age and even more sadly, Alzheimer’s can strip away everything. I can’t even imagine that. And I don’t want go down the mental pathway to try to visualize the depths of that despair.
Life is filled with reminders of what’s out of our control. Whether it’s a tv show, a flat tire, or an unexpected phone call and its resulting consequences. No, we didn’t get to make love that day. But I got to be with her. To just be around her aura. Isn’t that enough? And I am with her. Right here, right now, and for all the tomorrows we’re given. Hold on to that a little more, Markie. And hold on a little less to the things that are out of our control.
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