The easiest way to tell your wife when she’s wrong, is in a secluded corner of your backyard where no one, especially she, can hear you. The repercussions can often be astounding! However, in the predawn era of our long marriage, I often analyzed Wifey’s missteps and pointed out her misjudgments and slipups. She was often respectfully silent during these orations as if she were mentally recording the event for future playback. I was never demeaning or disrespectful of her goof-ups, just ‘hard love’ honest.
Into the second decade of our married bliss, whenever I critiqued certain actions on her part, I was often required to give verbal evidence, in detail, of my conclusions as if I were standing before the Supreme Court of the land and all the justices were angry women with contagious menopause. Wifey started to become more and more confrontational with me during those times as if her good judgment seemed to be sucked into a swilling black hole in her cerebral cortex. As she plunged into her 50’s, whenever I would tell her she was wrong about anything, it was like mud wrestling with a shaved grizzly bear high on bovine hormones…..I didn’t stand a chance.
Nowadays, with several decades behind us, we now have an unspoken understanding that I keep my unwarranted criticisms to myself, and in the improbable event that she may be wrong, then it’s my fault for not intervening and preventing her judgmental debacle. On those occasions, I usually apologize for her mistake and promise not to let it happen again. All very confusing for an old guy my age, but makes perfect sense to her. Seems she’s always right, even about being wrong. That statement just hurt my brain.
All and all, before stepping forward to regulate her misjudgment on a matter, I will spend several days in deep meditation before doing so before comprehending how I will approach the matter, and by the time I do, she can’t remember the circumstance anyway and acts like I have vindictive dementia and reminds me to go take my meds. Fact is, Wifey’s blameless mind is a lot like a hotel bed….it gets changed all the time.
Charlie
RAMBLINGS OF MY MIND 