I can only assume that Suzanne Collins was talking about us women when she said, “We’re fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self distruction.” Maybe she was talking about men too, but I think we women really rock the “fickle” thing – at least I know I do, and tonight I am writing this blog to publicly acknowledge it (honesty being the best policy and all of that).
So I watched Jane Eyre tonight. I know right!?! Why? It is single-handedly one of the most depressing stories of all time! Those Bronte sisters really knew how to weave a sorry tale. The novel was dreadfully sad when I read it in high school, every rendition of the story I’ve heard since has been the same and yet, there I stood, checking out the newest cinematic version from the library two days ago. I am going to blame my monstrous cold, both for the lack of clarity and for the troll-like appearance that made me choose a movie where the heroine is notoriously plain. Maybe my red-rimmed nose and watery eyes couldn’t handle Hollywood’s normal competition alright!?!
Whatever the reason, my foggy mind or ragged appearance, there was something in the plot that resonated with me this time around. If you aren’t familiar with the narrative, it is about a desolate and dejected orphan girl who later becomes a governess (nanny) for a rich, brooding man’s daughter. For some reason, Jane falls in love with this dark, mysterious fellow, and right before they get married, she finds out he is already married to a mad woman who lives in the mansion’s upper floor. I know, I know … it’s terrible. It ends well, but any ending would be a good ending just so that it’d be the END! Regardless, the crazy wife thing got me thinking … because it was a hasty arranged marriage, Mr. Rochester didn’t know she was actually as deranged as she was. It doesn’t really make the story less wretched, but helps you understand why the guy kept it all a secret at least.
So … back to me thinking; I might actually owe my husband an apology – or five. I’m not crazy (well, not most of the time … zany maybe, but not crazy). Still, even though we were together for three years before we got married, there are a few things I bet he didn’t quite bargain for before saying “I do.” I hold my cold accountable for these very generous apologies to follow … because if I were in my best condition, I doubt I’d be so reflective. And yet, I do feel just a little bit bad about these characteristics and quirks; if I don’t understand them, there’s no way he has a chance … and just so you know, I know.
So – Matthew …
1. I’m sorry for asking you to be spontaneously affectionate, and then pushing you away if/when I’m: feeling ugly, rushed, hungry, tired, or over-worked … because I’m pretty much always one of these. Good luck finding “the right time,” because I have no idea when that is, but yes, I still expect YOU to try to find it.
2. I’m sorry for being addicted to both modern and classic love stories. There is no way that any regular day would make it into a novel, and yet I somehow spin this fantastic version of reality in my mind that, quite frankly, does not exist in a world between bills and bedtimes.
3. I’m sorry for the times I ask you if something I’m wearing makes me look fat. The truth is … if I’m asking, I’ve already decided that it does, and nothing you say will be the right thing. I know this, but sadly, it won’t keep me from asking.
4. I’m sorry that you can never ever say the following harmless phrases to me, because no matter how well-intentioned … they WILL cause me to have an emotional-meltdown: “You look tired,” “How could you not remember that?,” “Don’t I have any clean underwear?,” “That outfit isn’t my favorite,” or “Maybe you need to slow down.” None of these words, when used in conjunction with one another, will produce a good outcome.
5. Last but not least, I’m sorry that I will never be logical. I need you to know I’m not sorry for me … as you know I don’t put a whole lot of stock in logic, but I know you do; so for you, I’m sorry. I will never find AM radio interesting. I will never choose a nonfiction text over imagination, and I will never, ever pick “someday” over “today.” I’m impulsive, I’m spontaneous, and I’m expecting these habits to rub off on you (sooner than later would be ideal for me).
And so, though I don’t believe I’m a terrible choice, I do apologize to my sweet and wonderful husband who keeps trying, even with my overdose of fickle. Matthew, gift of God that you are, believe that you are the hero of my story, the knight-in-shining-reality who keeps me dreaming. I love you for loving me, even when I’m unloveable, and especially when I’m irrational … which we both agree is most of the time.
I had to say this all once … just so you know, I know.