I like to consider myself a woman who is fairly “low maintenance”. And y’know, most of the time, I am. I don’t demand expensive things or super-special treatment. I’m realistic when it comes to my expectations in life. I’m pretty easy-going and don’t make a lot of demands.
Most of the time.
Hey, I’m not perfect, right?
Every once in a while I get in a “mood” when I’m way more difficult to please than usual. This often happens when I’m “hangry” (hungry/angry), when I need food but can’t collect myself enough to take care of my own needs. I want to eat, I need to eat, but for the life of me can’t think of anything to satisfy my hunger.
Sometimes I’m like this even without being hangry. I can be picky and difficult about things. Yes, I want to watch a movie, but not THAT movie; yes, let’s go out for dinner someplace but I don’t know where. And NO, not there. Or there, either. I want to do something but I don’t know what. But I definitely don’t want to do nothing. That would suck!
These moods don’t happen often but when they do, I basically act like a little brat.
Hard to believe, isn’t it? heh.
I got hit with one of these moods on the weekend. We were enjoying our first kid-free weekend in quite some time, and CBG and I were trying to find a place to go to relax for a drink before we headed back home for the evening. I wanted a margarita but didn’t know a good place to find one. We were wandering downtown, looking for places. Nothing appealed to me. CBG is pretty easy to please in that department — after all, he can get a beer pretty much anywhere.
We couldn’t find a place to go and yes, folks, it was all my fault.
You heard that honey, right? In case you didn’t, allow me to repeat:
It was all my fault.
The potential for the afternoon to go downhill was high. I’ve seen it happen before. But on this day, CBG was particularly tuned into my mood, and seemed to make it his mission to keep his wife happy. The first acceptable place we came to, instead of waffling or debating the pros and cons, he immediately signed on. Before I had time to re-think or change my mind. Withing 10 minutes I had a margarita in my hand and a smile on my face.
And that’s what being a good spouse is all about, isn’t it? Knowing when your partner needs you to step up just a little bit more than usual. It may seem like a small thing, but it’s all those little gestures that add up to make a good marriage.
He loves me enough to put up with my spoiled brat moods. Now THAT is the measure of a good husband.