I Love My Wife
Cut Off
I love my wife, why wouldn’t I?
My wife is a genius. Not only in the books but in the corporate world too. Graduating from the top University in our home state decorated in medals, cords and wraps she began building empires from the ground up from age twenty-two.
My wife is cultured. She’s travelled all over the world and can speak five different languages fluently as if she wasn’t born and raised in Kansas for eighteen years.
My wife is a perfectionist. Has always forced herself to only produce the best whether that be a home cooked meal, (more like four course entrees.) Or if she gets in the painting mood, she’ll lock herself in the studio from sunrise until I’m in bed at night dreading the work day in the morning grumbling to myself. If she’s writing one of her fictional stories she’ll sit in the living room or the office. Soft music would sound from the speakers throughout the entire house and the TV screen will be flipped to that stupid “wood burning in the fire place” channel.
She says she can think better in the open space and foolish me, I thought open space translated to “company welcome” or at least “husband yes you may join me in our living room”.
After the first attempt, I got the message I wasn’t invited. I'll never forget how she made me feel and from that day on, I’ve felt completely cut off from my wife.
The moment my undeserving Rav Simmons jeaned ass met with the purple suede loveseat my wife couldn’t go without... That long neck of hers twisted causing her head and floppy golden bun to follow. She looked at me with sharp eyes that would scare any unsuspecting person half to death, luckily I’ve grown accustomed to it. When I opened my mouth to simply ask how her story was coming along and she curtly cut me off.
Her lips formed a tight wrinkly 'o' as she harshly rushed out the words, “what, don’t you see I’m writing?!”
I was stunned, I’ll admit the previous few weeks before that day had been a little rough. Every little thing sparked an argument between us, we even argued at the grocery store about whether we had mustard at home or not... She said we didn’t have any and there was no telling her otherwise. Sometimes the arguments got heated but not to the point where we’d ignore each other all day or one of us had to stay the night in the car or a hotel room.
We had arguments that had us yelling at each other for a few seconds then one of us would blow it off and walk away muttering, not really resolving much.
But last I remembered, the day of, we were on good terms. Hell, just an hour before I cooked us waffles, sausage and eggs while giving her the space to her take her time to get out of bed. I had soft music playing like she enjoys and we had pleasant conversations over breakfast. We even spoke on going out later in the day. Then not long after, after I cleared the table, kissed her lips and left for the shower, when I returned she was cold and distant.
My wife is loving. She loves to keep busy. Another thing she loves, making others happy. It’s a form of approval for her. She thrives from the acknowledgment and praise from any task...
I was once responsible of giving her those feelings and firing off the pistons of arousal and absolute bliss and happiness. And now she deflects my love and literally expunges it from anything or anyone that will give it to her but me.
I still love my wife.
My wife still tolerates me. My question is, why?
My wife is a genius. Not only in the books but in the corporate world too. Graduating from the top University in our home state decorated in medals, cords and wraps she began building empires from the ground up from age twenty-two.
My wife is cultured. She’s travelled all over the world and can speak five different languages fluently as if she wasn’t born and raised in Kansas for eighteen years.
My wife is a perfectionist. Has always forced herself to only produce the best whether that be a home cooked meal, (more like four course entrees.) Or if she gets in the painting mood, she’ll lock herself in the studio from sunrise until I’m in bed at night dreading the work day in the morning grumbling to myself. If she’s writing one of her fictional stories she’ll sit in the living room or the office. Soft music would sound from the speakers throughout the entire house and the TV screen will be flipped to that stupid “wood burning in the fire place” channel.
She says she can think better in the open space and foolish me, I thought open space translated to “company welcome” or at least “husband yes you may join me in our living room”.
After the first attempt, I got the message I wasn’t invited. I'll never forget how she made me feel and from that day on, I’ve felt completely cut off from my wife.
The moment my undeserving Rav Simmons jeaned ass met with the purple suede loveseat my wife couldn’t go without... That long neck of hers twisted causing her head and floppy golden bun to follow. She looked at me with sharp eyes that would scare any unsuspecting person half to death, luckily I’ve grown accustomed to it. When I opened my mouth to simply ask how her story was coming along and she curtly cut me off.
Her lips formed a tight wrinkly 'o' as she harshly rushed out the words, “what, don’t you see I’m writing?!”
I was stunned, I’ll admit the previous few weeks before that day had been a little rough. Every little thing sparked an argument between us, we even argued at the grocery store about whether we had mustard at home or not... She said we didn’t have any and there was no telling her otherwise. Sometimes the arguments got heated but not to the point where we’d ignore each other all day or one of us had to stay the night in the car or a hotel room.
We had arguments that had us yelling at each other for a few seconds then one of us would blow it off and walk away muttering, not really resolving much.
But last I remembered, the day of, we were on good terms. Hell, just an hour before I cooked us waffles, sausage and eggs while giving her the space to her take her time to get out of bed. I had soft music playing like she enjoys and we had pleasant conversations over breakfast. We even spoke on going out later in the day. Then not long after, after I cleared the table, kissed her lips and left for the shower, when I returned she was cold and distant.
My wife is loving. She loves to keep busy. Another thing she loves, making others happy. It’s a form of approval for her. She thrives from the acknowledgment and praise from any task...
I was once responsible of giving her those feelings and firing off the pistons of arousal and absolute bliss and happiness. And now she deflects my love and literally expunges it from anything or anyone that will give it to her but me.
I still love my wife.
My wife still tolerates me. My question is, why?