It was like a scene from wrestlemania in my bedroom final evening. Don’t get excited. Not that sort of wrestling. There were no slippery-limbed scufflings. No wild gropings of wobbly bits wrapped in Lycra or PVC. And no time-calling, ding-ding girls in micro minis and heels. Even worse, there was no ref. So it really is not surprising things fell a bit foul.
Round One particular – 11.50pm. I get house and he’s currently in bed. ‘Baby, you happen to be here’ I say, stunned into stating the obvious. ‘I’ve been phoning and phoning, why didn’t you answer?’ ‘Been sleeping,’ he says, eyes closed, head motionless on the pillow. ‘Oh,’ I say. ‘I believed you had been still at Rob’s – when did you get back?’ ‘Dunno. An hour ago perhaps.’ ‘Well why did not you contact when you left?’ ‘Dunno,’ he says, eyes nonetheless closed. ‘Suppose I assumed you’d currently be home by, like, 11 on a Monday night.’
He turns over, turns his back to me. The conversation is more than. Clearly. His breathing slows and rises to an practically-snore. I make a ‘humph’ sound, turn and flounce to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Regrettably, my reaction is wasted. He’s as well far gone to see that I’m nonetheless peeved.
Sigh. Welcome to the weirdest, wildest, crapiest type of wrestling about. The he-mentioned, she-mentioned, dung-slinging slugfest that only happens within the ring of a long-term partnership. It is a battleground, genuinely. A blood sport. A joke. Why? Simply because men and ladies just aren’t organic opponents.
Why do you feel wars are waged by guys and catfights by girls? Due to the fact males like a rapidly fight followed by an even quicker flight (and, in battle if not in bed, bigger is better if you want to get it more than with quickly). Girls, on the other hand, favor an unhurried hissing match and a slow, acerbic scratching out of eyes. Maybe that’s why well-evolved men employ the subtle art of avoidance. Just like my man is performing correct now.
That is so typical, I fume to my reflection. He just turned over and went to sleep. Will not even stand up and fight like a man. Specifically when he’s clearly in the incorrect and there’s so significantly to speak about. I’m foaming at the mouth now, and it’s not just the toothpaste. In fact, I’m limbering up for the extended haul.
Round Two – 11.59pm. In the bedroom. ‘Baby?’ I say loudly. ‘Are you sleeping?’ ‘Sssh,’ he says, face scrunched in apparent pain. ‘No, I’m not really sleeping. Just playing dead so you’ll go off and hunt a person else.’ ‘Okay, seriously,’ I say, eyebrow raised, hands on hips. ‘Weren’t you worried when you got back and I wasn’t property at, like, 11 on a Monday night?’ ‘Dunno,’ he says, opening an eye. ‘I thought you have been at your sister’s.’ ‘I was. But what if I wasn’t?’ ‘But you have been.’ ‘But what if anything had occurred to me – a woman driving alone on these treacherous roads.
You just got house and blithely went to sleep without having caring – just like you happen to be blithely going to sleep now.’ ‘I’m not,’ he says, eyes closed again. ‘You are.’ ‘Hang on,’ he sits bolt upright. ‘Were you or were you not at your sister?’ ‘Yes, I was, but…’ ‘And where does your sister live?’ ‘Down the road, but…’ ‘And do you, in reality, have a mobile telephone?’ ‘Yes, but…’ ‘So you could have called me, correct?’ ‘Um… I suppose, but…’ ‘Is that a yes?’ ‘Um… effectively, yes.’ ‘Thank you. And great night.’ Sigh. Maybe men live by the old adage, ‘He who fights and runs away lives to fight one more day’. Or maybe they are just wusses. I do not know. Either way, you will in no way see a actual male-female face-off in the very good, old grunt-fuelled WWE. No, not simply because she would get pulverized to a pulp, but rather due to the fact he wouldn’t have the stamina for her sort of scrap.
Anyway, lucky for me my man’s greater at avoiding than I am at fighting. Maybe that’s why we invest far more time loving than we do lunging for every single other’s throats. Plus, we have way far more time and energy for other issues. Like sleeping. And that other type of wrestling.