*sigh*
I can be such a schmuck.
How can I hope so hard for something when Hubby already knows (and tells me repeatedly) that it won't happen?
Why does it hurt so much when I get a 3rd party confirmation of such?
And why, for heaven's sake, am I upset that Hubby doesn't understand my disappointment? He never had his hopes up, so why would he share in my misery? Why would he be sensitive to what I'm feeling?
Real men aren't like the ones on my stories. They don't sympathize. They don't empathize. They don't relate. Hell, half the time they just think we're being silly.
All of those stereotypical men in the jokes; the chauvinist bastards and the emotionally ignorant lumps, those are the men who actually exist. No amount of fad psycho-babble and metrosexual polish can turn them into anything else. No liberal arts education will give them insight into the layers of significance a single event can have.
Gods, I'm bitter this morning. I want a smoke, a cocktail, and a long nap and it isn't even noon yet.
How can I hope so hard for something when Hubby already knows (and tells me repeatedly) that it won't happen?
Why does it hurt so much when I get a 3rd party confirmation of such?
And why, for heaven's sake, am I upset that Hubby doesn't understand my disappointment? He never had his hopes up, so why would he share in my misery? Why would he be sensitive to what I'm feeling?
Real men aren't like the ones on my stories. They don't sympathize. They don't empathize. They don't relate. Hell, half the time they just think we're being silly.
All of those stereotypical men in the jokes; the chauvinist bastards and the emotionally ignorant lumps, those are the men who actually exist. No amount of fad psycho-babble and metrosexual polish can turn them into anything else. No liberal arts education will give them insight into the layers of significance a single event can have.
Gods, I'm bitter this morning. I want a smoke, a cocktail, and a long nap and it isn't even noon yet.