Tales From The Married Crypt 1: Post-Partum Passion
The women in my life – mom and wife – were fighting again… My wife was starting to go off on me. This did end in end in sex though.
Of course all you Greek Deity’s out there have perfect marriages, kids with IQs that blow those Asian prodigies out of the water, and families so perfect that stains never appear on your clothing. I expect nothing less on the internet from people who aren’t divorced. So it’s time for me to pony up and give you a peek behind the curtain of how life really goes down. Our story begins below.
Every so often, I’ll post a snippet of what my life is actually like so people know the triumphs and trials of the married man. This is the first in that series. – Lucas
Wife picked me up from work at 10 Pm. I was mentally exhausted from repeating the same damn mandated call flow nonsense for 11+ hours, stressed and hungry having just 45$ in our bank account till next Friday, and in a state of prevented pain via prescription hydrocodone for having my tooth pulled the other day. It might take the pain away, but the mind fog is dense.
At least my sales were decent for the day for once. I couldn’t wait to get out of there and see the wife. Apparently, I didn’t make this apparent enough. Women, I tell you. More on that later.
We got home and my mom was out with our other car running some errands. This mean we couldn’t visit friends of ours camping as we needed that car and her to babysit. I gave her a few rings, no answer. Not good. I can smell the pheromones of illogical anger in the air. My wife had been looking forward to it so this was the spark that set it off. Stalingrad was to commence. We were about to be in the throes of Post-partum passion.
Some Necessary Context
Marriage isn’t some Disney Fairytale. Instead the mermaid gets shafted, Cinderall doesn’t get that glass slipper on, and no one cares that Bambi’s mother is bleeding out in the cold snow. You can gasp and scream now.
Rather marriage is like a volatile stock market with shouting, confusion, and soaring numbers up and down. On one day, it’s a grind in the muddy forsaken world-war one shell-shocked trenches trenches and it’s all my fault; the other it’s a sexy romp of love, schoolgirl gazes at you, and my wife telling me to hold her close in my arms and never let her go.
No, that’s not an exaggeration, that’s what it’s really like. Consistency is for the weak. Apparently, we men need a constant challenge. In this way, the “hunt” never ends – it just shifts to pacification of the angry peasants about to burn your castle down. You may be king, but she is now Trogdor. When it comes to women, you just don’t know what you are going to get – especially with post-partum. God have mercy on your soul mortal sinner.
My wife and mom have been annoyed with each other on and off. It’s like a small war that picks up every few days with my wife sending recon planes to find weaknesses. My mom is staying with us for several weeks to help with our infant sons.
In my noble appeals to Vulcan logic, I keep pointing out how her feeding our almost year old son Julius in the mornings and now both boys throughout the day while we are at work is invaluable. (She just got a waiting job to help out with the bills, so that’s at least 10 Hugs.) This lets me and my wife to go out on dates for bloody once. Well, it matters not because emotions don’t care about logic. Or being on a date and having a good time.
My wife of course overlooks this when she gets frustrated and mad… well because she’s frustrated and mad. She doesn’t know who will babysit, but she’s frothing, so she doesn’t care. I damn well do, because I know who will have to pick up the pieces and planning later; he’s good looking, sports a beard, and has suave game and is the best father and husband ever to roam the earth. Note, she’s also on her period. It’s like the 5th horseman of the female apocalypse. Long finger nails included.
In fact, several days ago they had a huge argument in which they both yelled and shouted at each other. Since all of our neighbors do this, no one pays it as much attention. Still, it was as is they were both on their periods together. Logic wasn’t working with either. I should know better by now, you would think.
Even more suprising was to just sit there and watch them go at with someone who wasn’t their husband. Specifically, I noticed how old grievances were pulled from the past and hurled back and forth at each other like Chinese fireworks that don’t explode just right always. Passion indeed.
When the chaos broke, my wife had stormed off to our bedroom where she usually hatches hormone driven plots that would make Lilith jealous. Walking into the lions den – her attention was now on me – she demand that I kick my mom or she was going to go to her parents. My mom doesn’t have a car here, so my dad would have to drive down 8 hours to pick her up – whenever he would get free. Makes perfect damn sense.
Every few days or so, my wife will become very annoyed again with mom and demand to me that she gets kicked out. The whole process begins anew like a modem reset. Apparently the porch and the downtown filled with homeless metheads is always a merciful option. I make the point of how she would feel if it was her mom or dad, but to no avail. It will give me a free headache though – the stuff marriages are made of.
Honestly, the annoyances are overblown. It’s just two women that have a problem getting along with each other – only difference being that my wife wont punch out my mom like she did most of the girls who crossed her wrong in highschool. My mom will do small things that accumulate and annoy my wife to the point of her taking it out on me like a tornado on a redneck trailer.
Knocking on the bedroom door when my wife is trying to sleep, put diaper rash cream on one of the boys when my wife doesn’t think he needs it, etc. Doesn’t even matter if my mom needs to ask a legitimate question about our boys, feeding, clothes, etc. My wife is still going to be very annoyed – and that’s all that’s needed to push the spark of, “SHE NEEDS TO GO HOME NOW!:
Problem is because its my mom, she makes it my fault. Several years from now, I’m convinced they will be laughing about this like nothing happened. I’ll just be shaking my head.
Back to recent events: The Post-Partum Passion
We got home and I plopped on the bed for a moment. The wife proceeds to angrily insist my mom needs to go home now. I tell her I’m too tired and in pain for this. Plus there is no winning this impending doom.
It escalates. She’s tired from her new job too. I demand she figure out who will babysit when my mom leaves because our son Nehemiah is too young for any daycares. “I’ll ask about that when you call your dad to pick her up!” she retorts.
“Yea okay”, I think to myself.
It goes to the next step. Suddenly more things are my fault; like how I could drink when she was pregnant and she obviously couldn’t. She wants me to not drink while she goes out and I drive her around. More words bombarding me about how life is unfair. At this point I’m dumbfounded.
What? How…. Nevermind.
There’s a word for this, something about mutual sadism and misery needing company. Next moment I know, she’s threatening to flush her depression meds down the toilet. Yeah, that’s gonna help.
She says that I’m never happy to see her and that I never show it. Huh? Those comfort tests. Sometimes I forget that I actually have to force myself to show some outward emotions so she knows what’s on the inside. Curse the different communication frequencies of the sexes.
None of this makes sense. I can’t reason with her. Doesn’t she KNOW that we need a babysitter to even go out – something most of her family and friends are unavailable for!?!? How man damn times do I have to mention this CRUCIAL fact? Apparently every few minutes isn’t enough. That whole repetition means importance thing; she’s not getting it.
Looks like she is about to cry. Threatening to go to her parents again. Doesn’t she hate them too half the time? Nah, just a rapid love-hate relationship that looks like you brought some back to life on the monitor after they flatlined.
Wtf is happening? Periods are for the brave.
Took me a second but it finally clicked. Words weren’t needed, but physical touch and a hug certainly were. Grabbing her, I gave her that hug and held her tight. I kissed her and it all flowed out. I let her talk about how it made her FEEL for a while. The key was calming her down and then listening to her, slowly dishing out bits of man logic along the way.
I held her and eventually she calmed down, no longer interested with my mom. We make plans for the next day, take a steamy shower, and engage in rough and intense coitus. Powerful orgasms ensued. Yes, that noun choice as deliberate as I like how “coitus” sounds. Nerds.
It’s a simple lesson, but one I keep forgetting until the yelling and fighting irritates me enough. When she’s hormonal and you can’t reason with her, hug her and make sure she orgasms later when that makeup sex occurs right after. You’ll feel like a massive boulder has been lifted off your shoulders.
Yea, that’s really all it took.
Now it’s time for that 14 hour workday where I can repeat myself all over again. Repetition. Fourteen damn hours of it. Call flows suck. Stay in School kids. Read Quintus and if your married read TheFamilyAlpha if your wimpy like me and need to shape up.