If for some insane reason you've been reading my blog (seriously, don't you have a life?),
you'll realize that I complain quite a bit here.
OK, OK... fine. I bitch a lot.
It's my motherfucking blog.
Also, everybody needs an outlet.
But this post is going to be different!
It's going to be upbeat and filled with sunshine and bunnies!
Just kidding.
And fuck you.
Where was I? Oh yeah.
Around late afternoon yesterday,
I sort of got the wind knocked out of me. Emotionally (ehh go fuck yourself).
A simple request to my wife to help me identify three Russian meat companies...
just three...
turned into another mini-argument.
These happen a lot whenever a business-related request of mine comes up.
And from where I'm standing,
I've got a pretty good idea why. At least one of the major reasons anyway:
She doesn't think it's a good idea.
Doesn't matter what it is,
if even a hint of complexity comes into play...
she immediately expresses reservations.
Oh she'll say that she supports it.
But I've learned a long time ago that it doesn't mean much.
She's a big fan of asking for things,
and spending money...
but when it comes to making money,
eh, not so much.
She's even expressed interest in working,
as in, she'll work while I stay at home and look after our baby.
One problem though: It won't work.
I know it won't. She'll miss the baby too much,
she'll get too annoyed at work,
she'll be too tired and stressed and come back every day in a very irritable state.
Might not happen immediately.
But it will.
I know her way too well to know this.
Oh maybe I'm just a little bitter right now.
Back to what happened this afternoon.
Right after that mini-argument, I felt... deflated.
What's the point, really?
Why not just get a regular job,
work miserably a few months (while worrying about losing said job),
save up enough for the down payment on a nondescript HDB apartment,
and spend the rest of my goddamn life trying to stay ahead of the interest payments.
And she'd still be dissatisfied.
All that would mean fewer vacations and luxuries.
And I would be miserable.
Not the kind of atmosphere I'd want our child to grow up in.
But that response. That fucking response.
And what she said about 10-15 mins later felt even worse.
As she picked up the baby,
in a tone that had a mixture of resignation and regret when you treat a motherfucking pet poorly,
she said that we could review those companies later,
after she was done washing the baby.
As if she were doing me a favour.
Like a condescending boss talking down to her incompetent subordinate.
And during this moment... it just hit me out of nowhere:
I wish I were married to someone I was attracted to.
And it made me even more depressed because it's true.
Holy shit it's true.
She could be someone I'm attracted to.
She could be.
All she has to do is workout.
But I can't even broach the topic without driving her to tears,
and having to pretend I meant something else.
All this bitching and moaning might seem like I don't appreciate her.
I do.
I mean holy shit without her I wouldn't have a daughter,
and wouldn't even be able to look after her properly.
My life would probably be a mess (literally and metaphorically).
I owe a LOT to her.
She genuinely cares about me,
as I care about her.
But certain aspects of her personality...
keep dragging me down.
And it takes a lot of effort to pull myself back up again.
All while pretending everything is OK.
Like climbing up a steep slope with weights tied to my ankles and shoulders.
I have to carry on, though.
The alternative is to just lay in the muck... pulling my daughter down with us.
Well enough of that.
