“The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.” — David Bowie
My husband is one of the most supportive people I’ve ever known. He supports my love of reading and my decision to be a writer, full-time. He does this by leaving me the fuck alone about it.
“Gee, Chloe, that doesn’t sound very supportive at all!”
It actually is, very much so. See, my husband is not a reader. At all. He is dyslexic, so if I were to expect him to read everything I wrote, it would be pretty fucking shitty of me as a wife. He never got any help for this disorder and at this point in his life, all it’s ever done is cause him a lot of headache and trauma.
He’s stubborn as a mule and he just doesn’t want to learn any tricks to help him learn to making reading easier. A lot of that also stems from being told by two different step-fathers growing up that reading was for “pussies and girls”. Yeah…shit like that doesn’t help, at all.
He’s actually a phenomenal writer. He writes poetry and song lyrics. It was probably two years or longer before he ever let me see anything he wrote and I felt pretty special. Maybe one day, he’ll let me post some of his stuff here.
I won’t push.
I am thankful that he doesn’t either. We are not the couple that constantly needs confirmation or affirmations from one another. I don’t need him all up in my Kool-Aid about what I’m doing on the computer or my phone constantly. He knows what I’m doing.
Usually, I thought about something I wanted to write about, and I am making note of it on the note taking app on my phone. Or a scrap of paper. Or I have to stop whatever I’m doing and go ahead and write out the entire chapter/article/story. He’s gotten used to it. I stare off into space when we’re in the middle of a conversation. I don’t do it when we’re talking about important things, usually. Sometimes. Ok it’s happened.
He isn’t uncaring, writing and reading like it’s his job, well, it isn’t his job. It’s mine. It isn’t his love, it’s mine.
And I don’t need it to be all consuming for him like it can be for me. Just like he doesn’t need the fire department to be that for me. I love that he is a fire fighter in his spare time. I think it’s wonderful. But I really don’t care about the ins and outs of it. It’s not my thing.
I don’t have a lot of IRL friends these days. When I did, I noticed a trend. A lot of couples were absolutely consumed with what their partner was doing 24/7. And they were convinced that if they didn’t know, then that person must be cheating on them. If they didn’t have every password, every PIN, every everything, there was something going on.
I lived that life during my first marriage. My first husband had my life scheduled down to the millisecond. If I was one minute later getting home than he thought I should be, I was off fucking someone else. No thanks dickweed, if I was going to do someone else, trust me, it was going to be worth more than one minute.
He went through my phone, emails, everything, daily.
Nope, not going to happen.
Now, I don’t care. My phone has no lock. No PIN. My computer does, but only because it came set up that way. My husband knows what it is. I know his too. Do I use it? Nope. No need.
Why? Trust. Beyond that, I’ve determined something important.
If people are going to cheat, lie, etc. no amount of monitoring will change that.
Honestly, I’ve never been happier. We each have our own lives and our lives together. It’s healthy and makes things so much better, for us and our family.
And I can write in peace, most days. :)