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 Marriage Talk 10

“ ‘How come’?”

The wife exclaimed,

“‘You’!

I’d have to say it’s because of you!”

Knowing, of course,

 ‘he’d’ be the blame,

“ ‘Me’?” he said.

“Outside of introducing me

to a few of your friends

when we’d run into them,

I’ve only met a few.

How in the hell,” he asked,

“could your lack of friends be because of me?”

“For example,” she said,

“Remember when we had Shelly and Marshall over?

You ‘knew’ you were being rude!”

Thinking a moment,

smiling,

“Yeah,” he said,

“that’s true .

I was rude to Marshall.

But he’s such’a jerk!

You said so yourself,

and that you couldn’t wait till the two’a them left.”

“I said I couldn’t wait till he left!

But that didn’t give you the right

to make a hangman’s knot out of that piece of rope

and dangle it in front of his face all evening.”

Recalling the incident,

which they both laughed over

after they’d ‘finally’ taken the hint and left.

Suppressing a smile,

“All my friends think you’re a conceited jerk.”

The young wife said.

“ ‘All your friends’, huh?

I thought you just said

you never see any of your friends!”

“Well, those friends that I…

‘Whatever’ friends I have

think you’re a conceited jerk.”

“Really? They told you that, huh?”

“Well, not in so many words,”

she admitted.

After reflecting a few moments,

“I’m sorry,”

 he said softly.

“But you know I’ve always had a problem

with people thinking because I look like I do,

I’ve got to have a personality to match.

You know when I’ve something to say

I’m talkative and other times I’m not.”

Always shy,

since marrying, the young man had felt

overshadowed by his wife’s quick wit and,

when in the company of others,

sometimes felt smothered by

her quirky personality, too.

When this happened

most often he would withdraw

into a shell of silence and,

try hard as he might,

words would not come to him.

At those times he felt as though in a vacuum

where he was able to hear

but was unable to speak.

His silence,

—due to his good looks—

in the past had often been taken for conceit;

could now possibly be taken as…?  

Indifference to those around him.

Knowing his wife did have,

okay, not all,

but a few valid issues,

particularly in regard to his parents,  

and as she had a way of saying

things that caused him to doubt himself

—more than he usually doubted himself—

and as this was certainly

one of those times and,

as it was late and as he knew

this conversation was going no place for him…

Also, if it went on much longer

it may well develop into an argument

—amazed it hadn’t already—

turning the light off,

“You’re right.”

he conceded.

“I’m sorry.

I’ll work on being nicer to your friends.”

Marriage Talk 11

“ ‘Our’ friends!” the wife corrected.

Shaking his head,

“Yeah.”

he rolled his eyes.

“From now on I’ll work on being nicer to ‘our’ friends.

And from now on,

I ‘promise’,”

—though it was a promise he wasn’t too sure he’d be able to keep—

“I’ll stand up for you with my folks.

And because business is picking up,”

—though he was rather sure it’ll do him no good—

“I’ll ask for another five bucks a week raise.

And if don’t get a raise,”

—though he hated the thought of it—

“maybe I’ll think about looking for ‘another’ part-time job.”

Trying not to sound too sarcastic,

 “ ‘Anything else’?” he  asked sarcastically.

“Yes.”

Most of her words spoken,

the weight of her thoughts off her mind,

having but one more complaint,

they young wife returned to the start of this conversation.

“Like I said before,

whenever you’re near me,

you’re always touching my boobs,

my crotch or my ass!

And whenever you touch me

I feel like it’s only because you want to screw me.”

“Okay,”

he said tiredly,

“from now on I promise not to touch your boobs,

your crotch or your ass,”

adding emphatically,

“ ‘ever again’!”

Smiling,

moving closer,

“I don’t mean I don’t want you to ‘ever’ touch ’em.”

The wife said.

“Only now and then let me know that you like me for…”

Feeling her breath on his face,

one arm beneath his pillow,

the other now over her waist,

“Honey,” he interrupted, “I ‘do’ love you!”

“Okay, then!

Once in a while let me know that you love me

just for me and not only when you want to screw.”

“Tell you what!” he said.

“How’s ’bout when I want you to know

that I don’t want you only for sex,

I’ll, uh,

I’ll touch your thigh.”

Laughing,

“No, sometimes thighs are off limits, too.”

“Let me understand.

I’m not allowed to touch your crotch,

your thighs,

your boobs or ass!

Hardly makes it worthwhile loving the little that’s left,

does it?”

“Yeah, maybe so.”

Becoming serious again,

“But I’ll feel better about the way you treat me.”

“Okay,” he said.

I’ll try to do whatever you want, honey.

But I still don’t think that I ‘always’ touch you

the way you say that I 'always' touch you.”

Not believing it for a moment,

“But if I do…”

“You do!

Believe me,”

she said emphatically,

“you ‘really’ do!”

Becoming tired of this conversation,

becoming ‘very’ tired of this conversation,

knowing she’d have the last word no matter what,

“So, okay! he said.

Then I promise to try to not

always think of you ‘only’ for sex!

And if I always touch you the way

you say I always touch you,

then I promise I’ll try not to touch you that way anymore…

Adding, “forever!”

Tightening his arms about her,

feeling the soft warmth of his wife’s breasts against his chest

and….

Feeling ‘it’ against her thigh,

reaching down,

touching ‘him’…

holding ‘him’.

“What’s this?”

she asked incredulously.  

“ ‘It’ did it all by itself!”

“I didn’t tell ‘it’ to do it!”

he said defensively.

“It ain’t my fault!”

And so long as the young wife’s hand was

wrapped around her ‘young husband’…

                           End

©April 29, 2012 / Mark M. Lichterman