Remember when all it took to get your way was a come-hither look?
Well, it turns out they actually have their own agendas.
Why didn’t someone tell me? I believed all those Clairol commercials….
Fast forward 33 years and you actually have to know something about how marriage
survives ‘works’ or you’re going to kill someone, am I right?
Herewith, I submit to you, a simple list of Husband Hacks (code for: Making it to your next Anniversary).
When you insist your moral compass point true North…
- And you want to know you actually
told himasked him something, but don’t, in fact, want him to remember it: Tell him during a televised football game. He will inevitably blow you off and you can walk away knowing you’ve done your best.
- Move the cat’s litter box to underneath the pile of stinking hunting clothes he refuses to return to their proper place. Then, move the box back to the laundry room after the articles have sufficiently absorbed the additional
offensive oderperfume. Upon discovery of said ‘hunting clothes’ by the hunter, and the accompanying ‘WTH?’ shrug your shoulder’s with an, ‘Aaaahhhh. That’s too bad. Probably should have put them away before the little darlings went native…’
- On a day when he’s home (with you), accidentally
on purposepull his top dresser junk drawer out of it’s socket with the might of Hercules. Make sure to send it sprawling across the room, and then lie down next to it. Meekly call his name. When he comes to your assistance (This will take a while, so have a magazine shoved under the bed) explain to him that you were only trying to put his clean socks back in their place, and you’re not sure what to do with all of the innocuous ephemeralimportant papers he’s been saving for 10 years that he has never referred to once and that this is probably a good time to sort through it all. He will (I promise) take one look at this crap and rather have his eyes gouged out with a dull knife. You will have to come-up with different articles of clothing you’re dutifully returning to their proper places every few years. He will not remember.
- Admire his lightbulb-changing skills. You may throw-up a little in the back of your throat, but it will lead to bigger things- like pouring you another glass of wine without your having to ask. He might even replace the toilet paper roll all by himself. These are ‘Wins’.
- No matter what/where/how he cooks any damn thing– it’s delicious. It just IS.
- As for s-l-e-e-p, you have a few choices. You can: 1) nudge him to his side so that his mouth closes and the barnyard-animal-in-heat sound goes back to the barn, 2) sleep with ear plugs in (This actually has a few advantages. I never hear Hurricane alarms, or his choice words for why the hell there’s no coffee in the morning) IGNORE, or 3) you can encourage your cat to lay her fat ass on his face while he slumbers. This doesn’t really solve your sleep problems but it adds to his- which is like a solution.
- If you can’t agree with some Master Of The Universe diatribe he’s spewing after a few tee many martoonies at the company holiday party, just suggest you’d rather be home watching Naked Alaskans On A Deserted Island. You’ll be adidosing it pronto with a slather of your wondrous understanding of ‘priorities’ all over your vintage Chanel jacket. In the morning suggest that shopping at Nordstroms is in order. To replace the jacket.
- Agree with him and then do what you want. He’s not really paying attention.
- Don’t always come home on time- or answer your phone. You can be just as not available as he is. Remember to blame it on ‘work’. And if you don’t ‘work’ outside the home, blame it on traffic. It’s called plausible deniability people.
- Don’t EVER start a conversation with, “We have to talk.” Automatic SHUT-DOWN. If you have something to SAY make it short, succinct and ask him to repeat it back to you. He will not have heard you correctly. Promise. You will have to rinse and repeat- but only once. At some point you’ll have to be satisfied (Dear God it never ends…)
- And the next time you’re both out at an Irish pub on the westside of NYC (’til 4am, and he’s decided he’s Irish when he’s really mimicking a shit-faced Swede/Czech) and you saddle-up to the hotel with no cash and a lost credit card????? Leave him in the cab to work it out. Then inform the concierge that your husband is in need of assistance. Outside. Blow a kiss and hit the sheets after hitting elevator button #23.
You’ll have to pick up all of the pieces again tomorrow…
Because ‘Your worth it’.
At least that what the Clairol commercials said…
And you can use rinse and repeat over and over and over again.
Thank you Honey.
You’re the gift that just keep’s on giving.