You know how in your marriage, or your relationship, or in your whatever you’ve got going on or not going on that works for you, you eventually fall into these little routines, like a kind of division of tasks, the smaller ones. Not who does the yard work and who doesn’t do the yard work and instead sits vulture-like at the window to make sure not a single half-blade of shorn fresh grass makes its way into the house, but I mean how other things are broken down. Like if I am getting ready to take Penny somewhere, Phil makes her a roadie and loads her in the car for me, then I take her away and he sits and stares at the wall for an hour, I assume, because that’s what I do when I’m suddenly left alone in the house and overwhelmed with the possibilities of doing things in my own home without interruption. You know, however you break stuff up. Routines and all of that.
And I’m not talking about how a marriage works, specifically, because there are people who have Very Firm Ideas on how marriage in general should work and will not hesitate to tell you you’re a bad wife or bad husband or bad whatever your role is. There’s this really strange – to me – idea of fairness that people like to apply to marriage in general, the idea that it should be 50/50 or otherwise equitable, which, okay, I get that, but those same people also want to be the ones to decide what is fair or equitable, and that’s… not a thing. You can’t apply one standard to all couples, like Person A does tasks X, Y, and Z, and Person B does equally weighted tasks of T, U, and V, and that’s fair and how it should be, so if you’re only doing X, leaving Y, Z, T, U, and V for the other person, you are definitely doing marriage wrong and you’re terrible at it and you’re probably going to get divorced. You can’t do that, though, because you can’t be the arbiter of how tasks are weighted universally, and also about what other people consider a good partnership, or even be the person to decide that it should be fair. Do you see a ferris wheel? Do you see a man selling tickets? IF NOT, IT’S NOT A FAIR, SO FUCK RIGHT OFF WITH THAT SHIT.
I admit this is a very personally irritating topic and most other people probably don’t give it much of a thought, but I have learned by now to not talk specifics about how my own marriage works, because it will not be long before I am told it is WRONG and I should STOP and be DIFFERENT, and that is just infuriating in its stupidity, because you’re not a part of this, Lemon. But while I am now wise enough to not put that kind of business out there, it does not stop me from wading in to infuriating arguments on Reddit on the same topics, and really, I’m getting all heated up just thinking about the last one I threw myself into.
It’s especially irritating to me, likely, because I know we’re operating outside whatever a bunch of people may consider the norm to be, and people are prickly about stuff they’re insecure about. Not that I’m insecure about my marriage itself, or maybe I am, but that’s not the topic or anyone’s business anyway, so I’m going to leave it there as an either or – either I am or I’m not and both are equally possible – because I don’t want anyone thinking too hard about my marriage because I find that upsetting. Actually, I don’t like it when people think too hard about anything about me. I don’t like to be thought about. It makes me anxious and uncomfortable. I want to be The Silence of humans. Just forget I exist entirely until I appear in front of you. Then we’ll probably do something nice together instead of me kidnapping you and turning you into a murderous astronaut, but up until the murdery part, I’m The Silence, ok?
WHAT I’M GETTING TO IS THIS. You remember that show, Mad About You? Of course you do. It was one of those sitcoms that does a little bit of show, then the theme song comes on, then the real show starts. So there would be this little part or joke, just a minute or so, before the theme music, that wasn’t really tied to the rest of the episode. I don’t know if television shows still do that. I don’t really watch a lot of sitcoms. But you probably remember when that was a thing even if it’s not still currently a thing, so I feel fine moving forward with the description I’ve given there. So this one episode, it opens with one of these little vignette dealies, and Paul and Jamie are standing at the same small sink in their bathroom, brushing their teeth. I can’t remember the exact details, but they’re cooperating, like one toothpastes up and passes the tube and the other turns on or off the water, and it’s clear they’ve done this a million times. Paul leans over to spit in the sink, and he spits, and Jamie leans over, too, and spits right into the hair on the back of his head. He stands up, and he’s got this look of absolute shock and betrayal, and he’s like, “I thought we had this.” And she’s got nothing to say for herself because they’ve been together forever and they’ve brushed their teeth a million times, right next to each other, every day, twice a day, and then she suddenly loses the plot and goes and spits right in his hair, and something like that seems, almost, in some ways, more shocking than if she was like, oh yeah, I slept with six other dudes over the past year or so. Because that at least is so far out there and crazy that it seems more possible than her spitting right in his hair.
I have a point, and the point is that Phil ordered extra cheese on my green pepper and onion pizza last night, and I’m having a really hard time getting over it. I just… what? What, Phillip? In what life that we’ve lived together, outside of parallel universe me, who I remind you that you do not know, have I ever wanted more than the exact standard amount of cheese on anything? Extra cheese? We’ve been together almost eight years, and he ordered my pizza with extra cheese. I’m seriously completely boggled that it happened and frankly, still feeling a little wounded this morning. This was cheese completely out of left field.