"No."
"But I looked and they aren't locked!"
"So if you saw that, then why didnt you lock them then?" And then he went back to sleep. Puzzled by my idiocy.
I stomped off to lock doors, windows and turn on lights. Once the house was secure, I then sat at the dining table and cried. Because the man I had married, clearly did not love me. Did not care about me. Was not the man I thought he was.
Why? Because when I was growing up, that was my Dad's nightly ritual. He would do a security guard check of the perimeter with his torch and only when he was sure the house was locked - would he then go to bed. I grew up believing that yes, that's what a MAN does. He locks the house. Keeps out the burglars and zombies. He always has a torch by his bedside for when things go bump in the night and the electricity is off. Sure I did my degree in Feminist Theory, but still, I believed in the sanctity of the security guard man of the house. I looked at my sleeping husband who didnt give a stuff that the back door had been unlocked, who didn't even have a fudging' TORCH by his bed and I asked myself, Why did I marry this man!?
The Great Door Locking Debacle was one that caused us a lot of strife in those early days. And it took me a long time to see it for what it really was. In HIS home growing up, the Hot Man's father didn't go around locking doors at night. That was something his mum did. So the fact that he didn't think to go and safeguard my body, heart and soul by checking our fortress security - was NOT a sign that he didnt care about me. It was a reminder that we were two very different people who were bringing to our relationship, two different backgrounds, value systems and childhood experiences. And then somehow, that thing called love is supposed to overcome the differences, meld you two together and make you that Happy-Ever-After couple with butterflies and lovesick birds fluttering around everywhere you go. Bleugh. (No wonder so many relationships crash and burn.) No, after x-amount of years of wedded bliss, I know the secret to making it. Its called compromise. Its called forget all the crap notions/stereotypes you grew up with and commit to forging new value systems, habits and a solid foundation together. (No matter how painful that may be...)
I am reminded of this every night. When I go do my perimeter security check of all the windows and doors. And check my torch batteries before going to bed. Because in this house, in this relationship - that's what the Hot Wife does. (dammnit) And there aint no zombies getting in through the house security perimeter on MY watch.
This Hot Wife has got everything under control.
