Things like knowing that: If I reply to your message with ‘K’ then I’m probably NOT “okay”. And my clipped, “whatever” and “do it if you want”, probably means I DON’T want you to do it. But you should easily pick that up. I mean, you should just know.
You should also know that when you sit in front of your computer for hours (the fact that it’s work related is not the point here, husband), my
death intense stares probably mean that I need a little bit of attention. Yes, years later and I still get needy sometimes. Not that I would tell you.
In fact, I shouldn’t HAVE to tell you that I dislike it when you get more excited about soccer than my latest work/friend/child-related saga update. I should be the only excitement in your life. And seriously, I don’t have to tell you that when I reference a giant, pink, cupcake on social media, it probably means that you need to show me your undying devotion by finding me said giant cupcake. (It has to be pink too.) I mean, why should I tell you. You should just know.
Husband, if you were doing a good job, then why didn’t you notice my freshly styled hair last week? Okay, I admit it’s still the same length. And still the same color. But it was “freshly styled” and you didn’t notice. Not doing a good job at all. If you were doing a good job you would’ve complimented me on the exquisite way I did my eye make up on Sunday. It looked SO good. I know this because Estelle, at church, noticed. But you didn’t. And no, I didn’t think to mention it to you because you should just know. Why should I tell you?
If you were doing a good job you would’ve stepped out of your mythical “nothing box” (which I don’t understand or believe in) and picked up that I wanted a foot rub, the other day, when I took my shoes off and sighed really loudly. Or that I needed you to rub my back when I walked into the kitchen semi-groaning, holding on to my fragile parts. I didn’t tell you because I figured that you should just know!
I mean, husband, if you were so amazing at being a husband, you would’ve known that I expected you to hold my hand the other morning when that old love jam played on the radio. I didn’t tell you, because I expected you to know. Just like you should have picked up that I wanted to watch a romantic movie, last Friday, when the kids went to bed early. But I would never, ever tell you that. Why should I?
In fact, why do I need to tell you anything at all? Husbands should just know. I’m not saying read my mind. But you’re my husband now so that means that you basically have to. Doesn’t it come with the package? So something’s not right here. I know I’m being rational. So it’s probably you. Not that I would tell you. You should just know.
Disclaimer: My hubstopher isn’t really all that bad, but yes, I’ll admit that I can be a bit loony toons on occasion. (The hormones, blame the hormones). Wife, girlfriend, do you get this way sometimes? I think that we are all faced with various levels of challenges when it comes to communication. Yes, even you Super Wife, shaking your head at me. I often have to remind myself to SAY SOMETHING instead of expecting this guy (who is probably really sitting in his “nothing box”) to know what I want.