Ode to a Damn Fine Husband

A friend recently said that all marriages go through a crisis. Sometimes more than one. I can testify to that, as my own marriage has been in crisis for the last year or so. On more than one occasion I made mental preparations for how I would pay the bills if I kicked Bryan out. But God has been gracious to us, and our community has been tenacious in their support of bringing peace to our home, and our marriage has persevered.

I feel more clear headed, and less emotional. When Bryan says or does something that I perceive to be offending, I mention it to him and he clarifies what he meant. What I’ve learned through this is that he doesn’t always realize he’s being an ass, so if I just calm down long enough to tell him how I feel without completely going off on him, he can actually think about it and say something like, “sorry, I was thinking about this and such when I said that, and I didn’t mean it to come out that way.” And I’ll say something like, “oh. Thank you. No problem.” End of discussion, and we’re all happy, and we go have sex.

I needed to take responsibility for my part in our marital deterioration – that I assumed everything Bryan said was to attack me, that I was a victim, when in reality I just needed to make fewer assumptions and not expect him to read my mind. I never cut him any slack. I never allowed him to have an off day.

And just a note on how sexy he is…

Today I played in a softball game over the dinner hour. Bryan left early to go start the coals in the BBQ, but our game went longer than expected. I was preparing myself for him to be irritated, but when I walked in the door tonight he’d made a kick-ass ceasar salad, a strong margarita, and he’d just finished grilling rib-eye stakes to my liking. All I needed to do was sit down and eat.

Also, he’s taken to removing the dramatics out of killing spiders for me. He used to holler at me, “Don’t move!” before he dove in for the kill. And of course I’d freak out. But now? The other day I was lying on one couch, and he was on the other. When suddenly he flew off his couch and pounced on something on the floor next to me. Then he quietly scooped it up and threw it in the trash. My pulse didn’t even fluctuate I felt so safe.

It feels good to not hate anymore. And it feels good to not feel suspicious of everything he says or does. It feels really good to love unconditionally, and assume the best of him, rather than the worst.