I guess I am a slow learner. Thirty four years should be long enough to figure out that John is not fond of the question "How was your day?" This involves evaluative, quantitative and reflective thinking, all capacities which he has used up by the time he gets to me. While we are at it, Ben draws a blank every time I ask too but does that stop
me from greeting them both with the four intimidating words? Not a chance.
I read the suggestion not to ask this in a book by John Gray, and yet it is a hard habit to break. John would probably rather answer a question that actually has a clear response, like
"What did you do today?" or "Did your computer crash?" or "What is the population of Uruguay?" Mostly Ben just mumbles "I don't know" but still the next day the words slip out of my mouth like the chickens out the
door when I am trying to feed them without actually letting them free range. They find a way, and then it's a romp in the yard. Only with John it is not a free for all, it is a long silence.
Another thing John Gray suggests is that if you are driving together and she asks if you are hungry, use your Translator app to reframe it. Really she is saying "I am hungry" in as polite a way as she can. If you are confused and answer the literal question, it only makes her
mad. A hungry wife is not a cuddly one. Feed her.
I can't really blame anyone for the faux pas. It stems from the Golden Rule after all. I want John to ask how my day was so I ask him in a burst of friendliness. But understanding that dynamic is too complicated for a husband at 6 pm. Ten pm, after a few hours decompressing in front of Reddit, maybe. But better not to chance it.
Gray also articulates the annoyingly familiar scenario
of a woman who has a to do list extending into next week, who is multitasking with both arms, one leg and three conversations with as many children, face to face with a man who wants to do nothing. If you are not familiar with the Nothing Box, there is a
tutorial for your edification. Seeing her husband, the father of said children, in a sedentary state makes her furious. Let me speak for myself. It
makes me furious. Or at least it did for the first thirty years of our marriage. I finally figured out that is why John goes to the room farthest away from me to log on.
But after listening to John Gray, and Mark Gungor, and Dave Barry who are clever enough to hold my attention with laughter, I accept that John has a physiological need to stare at a meaningless screen. I still don't love it. But I have called a
truce.
.
