Okay, okay people! I get the message! I hope you got from my article on obsessively monitoring my husband's lube that this is not something I actually WANTED to do, it's something I HAD to do. Like clicking my teeth on my glass a certain number of times before taking a drink (OCD?) or checking the lock on the door five times before bed.
And doesn't everybody kind of wonder about their significant other and their alone time? Well, apparently not.
Have you ever heard that rational people think they are crazy and crazy people think they are rational? I think that's what was going on here. I've been riding on the Crazy Train for a long time and didn't realize it. After reading your heated and sometimes mean (it's OK, I get it) comments, I made the decision to tell my husband about my ongoing clandestine operation.
I wasn't sure exactly how or when to bring it up, how much to say, or -- most importantly -- HOW I was going to make myself stop. But I knew it had to be done.
The next day at work I called him into my office and had him shut the door (we work in the same place, convenient for marital discussions). I’m sure he was either thinking a) I was about to break up with him or b) we were about to get it on.
Here's how it went down:
Me: Don't be scared. Ok, soooooo, you know how I told you a while back I was maybe going to be writing a blog?
Husband: (furrowed brow, scared) Yeeaahhhh.....
Me: Well, I sort of did. And it was sort of about us. Well, you. Well, me and you but not together.
Me: Ok, so, (note to reader: I use "so" a lot when I am stalling), remember when we lived in Hillcrest and I told you that it kind of bothered me when you masturbated?
Husband: Yeah. I think it still does.
Me: Mmm hmm. Well, yeah. So I kind of…scouted out your lube bottle and started checking it to see when you were using it.
Husband: Uh huuhhh...(waiting to hear how much crazier I was going to get).
Me: Well. That's it. And I wrote a blog about it. And everyone was hating on me (well, not everyone, thank you non-haters) and I realized that they were kind of right and it wasn't fair for me to be a) invading your privacy and b) blogging about it without telling you. (Note to reader: yes, I always rank alphabetically when I talk.)
Pause. Deep Breath.
So I'm sorry and I am not going to do it anymore and I know you are totally normal and I am the freak and you can be mad at me if you want.
Husband: I’m not mad. Why does it bother you so much?
Me: Dude I don't know! I think partly because I am jealous and partly because I think it’s hot?
Husband: You can watch if you want. I could just put a peep-hole in the door for you.
Me: Yeah, I guess you could. I could learn your moves.
Husband: I kind of want to have sex with you right now.
In the world's Top Five list of understanding husbands, mine is probably up there. Keep in mind, he knows that I lay awake all night obsessing over whether I’ve chosen the right career, spent enough time with the kids to make them well-adjusted adults and how I can pay off our debt within two years. He knows I never do anything half-assed. Why start with lube checking?
And although it has definitely not been easy, I have put an imaginary force field around his bottle and have stayed far away. When he gets up to shower I keep myself busy in another room (you can take that anyway you want but I MEANT, like, cleaning).
He definitely isn’t going to let me off the hook very easily and makes jokes about it all the time, but the kind of jokes that invoke a smile and an eye roll, not more feelings of guilt. I still feel a little weird knowing he does it (not sure that will ever change) but I am at least going to give him the privacy he deserves. Though I might consider taking him up on the peep-hole suggestion.