Who is he?

I lay awake in bed this morning thinking. I couldn’t sleep, had financial statements to review in prep for an important meeting this morning, didn’t want to roll out of bed. My room was dark and cozy and I stretched out with my arms behind my head and stared at the ceiling, conscious of H’s steady breathing beside me.

At 5 a.m. I heard the side door slam at our neighbors house and, knowing that meant they were “tying” out the beast, I covered H’s one exposed ear so he wouldn’t hear the deep coarse repetitive barking. One WOOF, two…, door slams, it’s done. Didn’t take long at all this morning. Our plaintive cries for quiet, from our bedroom window, must be paying off.

Our friends are splitting up. Ran into T in the store yesterday and he said K called him to say he needed to move out by the weekend. To date, at least as far as T is admitting, K is not saying why – just that she needs space. A few weeks ago he had been banished to the mother-in-law apartment attached to their home. He buried himself in unpaid tile work at our home for a good week as a means to maintain his sanity.

Last night, after hearing about T’s situation, I remembered that I was supposed to go to K’s house for a “random product” party. At the party, some of K’s new friends were swapping T barbs with K. I thought that was odd. Wonder if they’re behind the split? Not for me to know at this point.

Any rate – later when talking with H about the split he commented on their issues. He said that K wants T to do more work around the house, just like he wants me to do more work around the house; K wants more sex, just like H wants more sex. I said – why don’t you go marry K?

That’s about where I tuned out. Once insulted the rest is lost on me. So this morning I lay awake in bed thinking.

Thinking about H’s socks on the living room floor; his milk glass, cookie crumbs, cookie container, and glass w/straw that were probably still sitting on the coffee table from last night; the cookie pans and cooling rack and crumbs that were probably still on the kitchen counter; the HUGE wrinkly pile of laundry he hauled up from the basement and stuffed into a dirty laundry bin so he wouldn’t have to fold it; the end to end counter full of dirty dishes I came home to yesterday after he’d been home all day; and other similar things.

I thought about how, when I come home to that I know he’s still expecting me to whip up some great dinner. And, if I don’t, he is unhappy and I never cook.

I thought about how after cleaning all of that up, helping our daughters with their homework, and cooking a meatloaf and extras, we ate dinner at 9 – at which time he retired to the tv leaving me to clean the dishes….for the second time that night. I hadn’t had a moment since I got home from work.

I thought about how his attempts at sex are just that….attempts at sex. How devoid of emotion it is. It consists largely of random grabs of my breasts, my butt, or my …… maybe exposing himself and expecting me to drop to my knees. That’s about as far as romance goes these days.

Somehow, with that type of a pre-cursor, and after a days worth of random criticisms and comparisons to women he things are better, and a total lack of recognition for anything I do, I’m not inclined to participate. Go figure.

So, I’m angry and I’m hurt. Who is he to constantly throw out these spontaneous negative comments out of left field, to disrespect me and disregard me, to not consider MY needs, and then to want more.

Really, who exactly is he?