Another Woman Discovers She’s Been Abusing Her Husband.
It all started over a package of hamburger. I had asked my husband to pick some up from the store for dinner. He came home with a rubber chicken and proudly laid it on the counter.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“The chicken you wanted.”
“Damnit George? How many times to I have to tell you, YOU CAN’T EAT RUBBER CHICKENS! Also, I asked for hamburger, which is made from cows.”
It was then that I really launched into him. What type of man tries to eat a rubber chicken? I took a knife, cut off the head of the chicken, and told him that if he didn’t start bringing home actual, edible meat, he would be next.
George curled up in a fetal position in the corner. “YOU KNOW I DON’T KNOW WHAT ANIMALS WE EAT!” He screamed.
It was then that I realized: I too have been abusing my husband.
I started think about all the other times I’ve gotten angry at my husband for little mistakes. The time he loaded all of our laundry in the dishwasher instead of the washing machine and then tried to burn the evidence in the fireplace. When I confronted him about the smoldering jean jacket I found he dropped on the floor and immediately started doing pushups while yelling, “I DON’T KNOW HOW CLOTHES WORK. IT’S NOT IMPORTANT TO ME OKAY?” How could I have forgotten that when I met him he was naked all of the time, except for a some boxers he wore over his head in winter? Instead of just shrugging off what is obviously typically male behavior I locked him in the basement for a week. How could I be so cruel?
I remembered the time that I asked him to watch the kids and I came back to find that he had traded them for remote control cars. When I shrilly demanded to know where the kids were he hid under a blanket and whispered, “Kids are hard.” I yelled that he was a bad parent, and that only a moron would trade the kids in for remote control cars. This is why I had never left him alone with the kids before. But now I realize that he was never going to learn to not trade the kids in for toys if I never trusted him enough to figure it out for himself. In this society that constantly tells men that women are better at not selling kids for toys, is it no wonder that my husband sold our kids for toys?
And then I thought about all of the times that I have messed up and he didn’t yell at me. What about the time he asked me to get the tires changed on the truck and I had them replaced with milk crates? Did he yell then? No, he just smiled and said, “Silly woman.”
I remembered the time that covered his tools in lipstick to make them look prettier. Did he yell when his hands were covered in Loreal Ruby Red? No, he just patted me on the head and sighed. He understood that I was just trying to help.
How many men have we literally killed with our constant insistence that they know lady-stuff like how to feed themselves or wash dishes? These things just don’t matter to men. And they shouldn’t - that’s what women are for.
Now that I’m aware of how my nagging was brutalizing my husband, I try to critique him less. Sure, he burned down the house last week when I asked him to make dinner. But now that he has a little cooking experience, he’s less likely to burn our next house down. Sometimes he burns the house down and sometimes I spend our life savings on shoes. He’s not perfect, but he’s a man. And that’s good enough for me.