Love Is Not On Time

As much as I want to be on time, I can't seem to ever do it. Job after job I constantly get in trouble for coming in a bit too late. It's not my fault. My whole life my parents would tell me we were leaving at one time and then before I knew it I was waiting downstairs in my spring dress, with my nails freshly painted, waiting for them to stop fighting so we could leave. These habits almost seem to have enabled me to turn into this unreliable woman with not enough time on her hands.

My husband knows this side of me too well. The first time I met him it was a blind date and I was yes- late. He smiled and accepted my mere tale of woe that suggested that the reason for the delay was based on traffic and not on the fact I'm not good at managing my time. As years have passed since this encounter, he knows now that I just can't seem to find the time for anyone or anything.

I want to be a good wife, not just a good wife, but a better one. I want him to talk about me with pride and not with the usual "and here is my wife, Sarah." There are usually no other questions about me, the guests just smile and nod and wait for me to depart into the kitchen so my husband can go on about some crazy story that he and his friends were a part of.

I don't like seeing everyone around me carefully measuring if I'm reliable enough to let me watch their kids for a weekend. My husband even laughs at their suggestions. "Sarah doesn't even have time to bathe, not to mention taking care of children." The topic of children comes up very rarely between us. He thinks I wouldn't be a good mother and I think he wouldn't be a good father. He'll ask me why. He'll say that he would be a better parent than I would ever be. I can't help but wonder why he would think I would be a good wife then.

The day he proposed, he took me to this elegant French cuisine restaurant that served escargots. As I was drinking my wine, I looked down into my glass to discover the diamond ring lurking inside. I got it out and he took my hand and bent down on one knee. I could hear the aws of the other women at the restaurant. The men just looked on and paid little attention as they knew what would happen once I said yes.

It's not a fact that my husband loves me or that I love him. It's inferenced by the way we both show affection. I show affection by my actions, such as washing the dishes when he cooks, cooking for him on his birthdays, and letting him watch what he wants on the T.V. My husband shows love by explaining our marriage to other people. He does this by saying "yes, me and my wife, we like to explore. I mean I love to explore more than she does, but sometimes I'll get her to try out a new thing or two." I hated it when he would talk about our love life in front of strangers, but it pained to hear him talking about our sex life. Especially since it wasn't true.

My husband and I hadn't been intimate in two years. His explanations about how sex is good, the romance is good, and how we're just the perfect couple makes me want to vomit. The only being he has ever expressed love to in our family is our cat, Maurice. Maurice was my cat first.

I may have my flaws. I know I have flaws, but why do I have to be the one everyone sees as the person in wrong all the time? Forgive me that I have my vice of not having a good grasp on time. I mean I have been married to my husband for fifteen years. I hardly know him. Time means nothing.

He begs to differ. He thinks that time is all that matters. He sees the time it takes me to get ready for one of his parties as a "woman" issue I need to fix. He complains that I make him wait on me constantly. I'd say that I always wait for him. I'm waiting for him to start loving me again.

"Well, now that we got Sarah's point of view out of the way, Ryan would you care to comment on yours?"

"I would like to, yes."

First of all, Sarah says that I don't love her. That's so far from the truth. I love her with my whole soul. What she sees as giving away her freedom on the night I proposed, I saw it as a new beginning. Sarah was the first woman I actually saw myself marrying. I still couldn't imagine being with anyone else.

I talk about our relationship in public, yes, I probably shouldn't. I didn't know that it hurt her so much. I only do it because that's what I think people want to hear. I don't want to explain to all my friends and their wives that me and my wife don't ever have sex anymore, that I'm afraid of our marriage ending forever, that I go to couples’ therapy. It doesn't need to be public knowledge. I'd rather them think we're freaky in bed then assume that we are unhappy.

I make dinner for Sarah every single night. I sit at the table for hours waiting for her to come home. When she does finally come home, she storms off into our bathroom and there goes another hour. I'll go into the bathroom to check on her and she'll get mad at me and say I always complain that I have to wait on her all the time. I do complain about it. I want her to talk to me about how she's feeling. I swear I have to wait on her to even speak to me sometimes.

If she doesn't love me anymore I need her to tell me because I don't want to live like this anymore. She says that I show more attention to the cat. I do, want to know why? The cat doesn't push me away. Sarah is the love of my life. Just because right now we are in a tough spot doesn't mean there isn't room for change.

I want to have a baby with Sarah. I know she'll be a good mother. I only said it that one day because she told me I wouldn't be a good father because of how I pick at every little thing she says. Sometimes I'll lay in bed and look up at the ceiling and wonder how long I'll wait for her to realize how much I truly love her and want us to get better. I really do.

"Good. Sarah do you have anything you would like to say about Ryan's statement?"

"God, you make it sound like a hearing at a courthouse. Baby, why don't you ever tell me you love me in person? I swear this is the most I've ever heard you tell anybody around me that."

"You never let me, Sarah. I want to get close to you but you push me away. Every. Single. Time."

"I push you away? Just last night I wanted to kiss you and all you said was that you were tired."

"Honey, we're going through couples’ therapy. I'm not really in the mood to be all lovey-dovey right now."

"You could at least try."

"So can you."

"I know. We're both at fault here. We need to stop blaming each other."

"I wholeheartedly agree."

"Well that's something, isn't it?

"Well, I guess we just need to take some time."

"Time is a social construct anyway."