Friday, September 24, 2021

A Bite of Your Salad

We had a big fight this evening.  The cause?  It's his refusal to allow me to have a bite of his cilantro lime chicken salad.  It might sound trivial (that's what he said), but it pushed my button.  I felt rejected and humiliated.  It solidified my belief that I married an ungenerous person.  A bite?  What kind of spouse would refuse to allow a taste?  Would 90 percent of adults allow someone they are intimate with to have a bite of their salad?  He said he was hungry.  He also said I'd already eaten and did not need to taste his salad because I had it before.  But it hurts.  I would give him more than a bite of my salad if he asked me to.  

I usually tell a tale of a husband (mine, of course) who is typically a cheapskate.  When we dated, I paid for dinners many times over, more than a woman should.  I paid for our plane tickets on our first trip together to the East Coast.  We stayed in my friend's apartment to save money.   To think of it, I always pay for our plane tickets.  The last time we traveled, we used our tax refund.  As a family, I spend about twice more than he does when we go out to eat as a family.  He seldom buys me flowers.  When he gives me jewelry, it's usually the cheaper ones.  Yes, I am easy.  

However, as I get older, I start to resent this.  Do I deserve better?  I work long hours. My dream of becoming a good mom is on the back burner due to my demanding work.    It's my paycheck that pays for our mortgage and health insurance.  He kept my stimulus money and the kids' also.  I do not ask for my share of the tax refund.  I feel like I am generous to him, but he is not.

To be fair, he does more of the share of child-rearing.  He does dishes more than me.  He feels resentment.  I have to remind him that if he wants me to be a typical housewife, he must have more than 1 job.  He sees this statement as criticism.  

I am ungrateful.  That must be the reason that I feel angry.  I see only the negative.  I said hurtful words in front of the children.  The more we argued, the more he felt sorry for himself, and I also felt sad about myself.  We are children.