Destruction By Complaint

It’s a gorgeous day. As we roll along, the highway is lined on both sides with curtains of colour.Late September in Canada, and the raw forests of maple, poplar, and birch blast one’s eyes with a spectacular colours; elegant gold, loud yellow, and the dominant colour, blazing red.

We’re going to our country place for a weekend of riding our horses and playing in our swimming pool. Out of nowhere she says,

“I bet the sump pump has died. You’ll have to go down to the cellar to see if there’s flood damage.”

I have to tell you that’s ridiculous, we know the sump pump is in great shape. She had to inject a bummer into a splendid moment. It’s a need she has, to keep the atmosphere forever tenuous.

As we drove up the dirt road to our farmhouse, she continued her thoughts aloud.

“The roof might have to be replaced before winter,” she says, whining. I clenched my teeth and said nothing, although I knew that the nearly new metal roof was perfect.

“Don’t forget,” she said, “you have a dentist appointment on Wednesday.” I stifled the urge to tell her how stupid it was to magnify unpleasantness with unnecessary comments.

As you can imagine, such a woman is also frigid, and in her case, totally ignorant of the niceties of making love. A mature woman, she was awkward as a first time teen. I was shocked the first time. I wondered why she was so bland, when in all other ways she was bright and energetic – which attracted me.

We pulled into the broad driveway at last.

“You have to put a new lock on the front door,” she said, for no reason at all. At that moment, I asked myself a question I’d been avoiding. What am I doing here? She turned the happy, colourful weekend into a dreaded period of relentless whining.

She got out of the car and walked up the path to the front door. I got out from behind the wheel and walked over to the old Jeep I kept at the country place. She went into the farmhouse and I pulled out of the driveway.

I was thinking of how she had ground the lovely weekend into shit with her complaints. I was thinking of her overall coldness, and generally, nasty disposition. And I thought of the girl at the bank, who asked me out for coffee. I thought about the girl at the donut shop, who told me the time she got off work and asked me to meet her.

Fuck this, I thought. My life is being ground into crap by this woman who is supposed to love and care for me. To hell with her.

I returned to the city and drove to the donut shop. She was to be off work at nine. I met her outside the shop and took her to my place. We showered; we made love… good love, and listened to music while we cooked up a late snack. She asked if I was worried that his wife would walk in. I told her I hoped she would, because I’ve had it.

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