Sigh...
Why are men so dumb?
How long has he been married to me? Almost 16 years? You would think he would know. You would think he would be able to read the signs. You would think he would go out of his way to make life a little bit more tolerable considering that most of my frustrations come from him-at this time of the month-when he just doesn't let up.
I mean, don't I go out of my way the other three weeks of the month to make him feel loved and as if he is the greatest thing since sliced bread?
Why is it that he waits... like a lion about to pounce on an innocent gazelle, who, when stalking its prey (me, the innocent gazelle), the lion(my husband) changes its posture by lowering its head and body staying low to the ground while keeping a visual lock on the target prey (me). Whenever the prey (me) looks away or looks down to eat (or is suffering from PMS), the lion (husband) creeps closer, and if the prey(me) is to look in the direction of the lion (husband), the lion(husband) will cease its movement and remain still. This “red light-green light” type of interplay continues until the lion (husband) gets within striking distance. After the lion (husband) has entered the striking distance, it pounces and ends the chase rather abruptly (and I somehow look like the lunatic).
The only difference is that when my husband pounces on me during these few, brief, torturous days of PMS (and don't even give me the whole-"Oh but he has to live with YOU during PMS, the poor guy" because I am not buying it. PMS is hell I tell you-hell! If you happen to be near a woman with PMS, do not think of yourself as a victim to her moods... because my dear male readers out there... you are more than likely the cause of her mood. I promise. Do not argue.)
Anyway, when my husband pounces during these few days, I pounce back and then all hell breaks loose and my head explodes and gaskets are blown and tires are punctured... and the worst part about it... THE WORST PART ABOUT IT... is that my husband isn't even HERE! No... he just calls me on the phone and stirs up shit and then hangs up-leaving me to rant and rave by myself, so the next time he calls he has no idea why I am so angry and "irrational" which does not help his case in the least.
Yesterday's phone conversation went something like this-and remember-I am in the throws of PMS so what may sound like a perfectly logical and normal conversation to you, does not sound that way to a woman on the verge of looking for a clown suit, a shotgun and the nearest water tower to climb.
Carl: Hi babe!
Me: grumble
Carl: I miss you!
Me: grumble
Carl: You are so pretty!
Me: grumble
Carl: What are you wearing?
Me: Why? Do you think I am fat?
Carl: No, I think you are beautiful.
Me: Do you need beer money or something?
Carl: No, but if we are talking money, I noticed that the plane ticket to Chicago came across the bank account and it was higher than you had originally mentioned it was going to be. It must have been an over site on your account.
Me: So what are you saying? That I lie? There is something called TAX-look it up.
Carl: No big deal.
Me: And just what are you doing looking at the bank account? You don't even know the value of a dollar where you are!
Carl: I just wanted to see how much the tickets to Nickelback were.
Me: Why? Is there a price on my happiness now?
Carl: No. I was thinking of buying you flowers but wanted to see how we were sitting first-money wise.
Me: Well we are sitting fine-because you have us on such a tight budget that I can't even buy beer this month... and don't give me that "flower" crap.
Carl: Uhm... it was you that set the budget.
Me: Don't try and place the blame on me.
Carl: Okay, well don't forget that Friday is payday.
Me: I know that. Do you think I would forget to pay the bills? I have been paying your bills for years now-I think I am capable of remembering when payday is.
Carl: I know, and you are doing such a great job babe. I am so lucky to have you.
Me: And another thing...
Carl: Wait babe-I have to go! I love you-don't forget payday is Friday! Try and add more to savings this month. Send me a box. I haven't had many letters lately, and can you have the kids email me? Oh, and pictures... you haven't sent any since last week and I need some more. Oh, and can you file the taxes, clean the garage, call my mother, and get moving on finding someone to put in the new counters, paint the house, install the new carpet and move us across town? Spring will be here before you know it! You need to get going with this stuff... but I gotta go-I have to go fly! I can't wait! Love ya babe!
... and then he hung up and I threw the phone across the room.
Do you see what I am talking about? Do you see how he just waits in the brush like a lion waiting for the right moment to pounce?
I hate PMS.
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