When Love And Hate Collide

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. And since I’m guilty of precisely this, I can only reason unreasonably that I’m off my rocker, maybe not clinically but at least temporarily.

It’s tradition to give wood for a fifth wedding anniversary, which is quite apropos for me since I’m married to a blockhead. They say wood signifies “natural and everlasting.” This too is symbolic as my pain isn’t going anywhere, anytime in the near future. Yet for some reason, I expected this year to be different. Cartier? Not so. Candy? Not quite. A card? Not even. A car? Now you’re getting somewhere.

In typical J-Fed fashion, his thought for “the day” was his newly purchased body for his racecar. Happy ^&**( anniversary… and many more.

Don’t get me wrong I’m not against anniversaries. There are those things you celebrate – a great job, the birth of a child, a new car – and those things you commiserate. The anniversary of my wedding falls into the latter. Pass the tissues please. The notion that I’ve stuck it out for a whole five years is both comedic and tragic in the same breath.

It’s humorous that I’ve endured being married to J-Fed for this long. However, it’s heartbreaking to think about the amount of time I’ve invested in being an angry, sad little person all in the name of J-Fed. I mean, it would have been less torturous spending my time translating Chaucer from Middle English, doing a 10,000 piece puzzle of the Eiffel tower or studying the art of origami. Regardless, you can’t change the past.

Anyways, J-Fed and I agreed not to exchange cards or gifts. We contemplated going out to a nice dinner or maybe a movie. Yet somehow any of these options were overshadowed by him tinkering with his car. Five turned into six which turned into seven. And after baths, dinner, laundry, trash and much more, I was beat.