Waiting through a Window

My whole life has become a waiting game, living with my spouse. Waiting for them to respond, waiting for them to get ready, waiting for them to make a decision. I knew I loved them very soon on and I had to wait for them to say they loved me too. I knew I was ready to marry them and had to wait until they knew. I knew that I was ready for kids and again, was the one to be left waiting around for them to be ready. 

“What time are we meeting there?”

“7:30 pm. Sharp. Not 7:40 or 7:31. 7:30.”

“Okay.”

“We have a reservation for 7:30 pm. I’m serious. 7:30.”

“Okay, yes I know. I get it.”

Were they there at 7:30? No, they were not. 

Honestly, being late is the worst form of offense, in my book. It is absolutely disrespectful. In my family, if you weren’t five minutes early, you were late. Every function, big or small, was attended to at this standard. I usually have defaulted to giving my spouse a “fake” time to be somewhere. If I need them there at 8, I’ll tell them 7:30. Which is exactly what I did this time but obviously it didn’t work. 

Sitting in my car, staring out the windows, I begin to fret.

7:31. Okay, it’s fine, they’ll be here.

7:35. Alright, 5 more minutes and I’ll call.

7:40. “Hey, how close are you?” “I’m almost there” they say into the phone a little too clearly, which I can assume means they haven’t even left the house yet.

7:50. Good thing I brought a book with me. I wonder if I could total the number of books I’ve finished while waiting for my spouse. Since they are usually 20-30 minutes late and I am left waiting for them this long at least once or twice a week, I have plenty of time to get some good reading done.

How long do I let this keep going on? At what point do I decide this waiting game has become too much for me and I just give up? But I continue to give them the benefit of the doubt.

7:59. Still. Not. Here.

And now I’m furious. Enraged. Do I mean nothing to you? The hurt this lateness makes me feel is deep and wide. I can feel it in every part of my body: my heart beats faster, my hands clench, my stomach tightens into knots.

Why do I even bother being upset about it anymore? The only person it’s hurting at this point is me. They don’t care. It never seems to faze them which is why they continue to do it anyways. Doesn’t matter how many “this hurts my feelings” or “it is so rude to the people waiting for you” conversations we have. They continue to let this be their approach.

My spouse was raised by a caregiver who had a very laid back, go with the flow attitude on arrivals and time frames. I’ve witnessed this firsthand. The 5-7 times we say “good-bye” before we actually leave from my in-law’s house. The conversations that continue to happen even though we needed to leave 8 minutes ago. So really can I blame my spouse? It’s as much their fault for not having a strong sense of being timely as much as it is mine for being overly concerned with timeliness. Insert the “nature versus nurture” argument here. 

It’s the price I pay for love, I guess. And, luckily, I have the patience of a saint.

8:02. Finally! “Are you serious?” I say frantically as I get out of the car and walk/run over to them.

“What?”

“I said 7:30.”

“Yeah but I just assumed that was the fake time you give me.”

Okay, well that’s not going to work again. How did they know?

“What if it wasn’t a fake time?”

“Then it would’ve been fine either way. Can’t we just go eat? Why do you always have to be so angry about this?”

Angry. Grumpy. Mad. The words they use to describe me when they are the one behaving as if my time has no value at all. “Why do YOU act so mad.” “Why do YOU get so upset.” ME? I’m not the one who was late. I’m the one who is always on time, if not early. I’m the one who ends up having to wait and worry and constantly check my phone in case I missed a piece of information on what’s happening or where you are.

We walk into the restaurant. My spouse, not even a care in the world. Me, white hot with anger and rage. Is my reaction to this lateness, this latest slight, too over the top? Not to me it isn’t. This is not the first time, nor will it be the last that I have been the one kept waiting while they don’t seem to have any sense of urgency. What did Einstein say about insanity? Turns out that isn’t even really his quote, but the idea of insanity as the act of “doing the same thing over and over again but expecting a different result” rings true here.

As we sit down to a lovely dinner at a beautiful restaurant, all my anger, resentment and concerns wash away. We share an appetizer and an entrée so that we can get the really expensive bottle of wine. I feel the rage fall from me with every sip, every bite. We laugh and joke about the couple sitting near us that appears to be on an awkward first date. We talk intently of our future plans for the summer and what sort of home improvements need to be done around the house. Throughout our conversations I keep thinking, wow, my spouse loves me and continues to wow me daily with their selfless acts of love and genuine interest towards me. So why do I let this one small character flaw bother me so intensely? Because of my upbringing and ideas of tardiness? Because I’m a heartless, harpy of a partner? 

As we eat, I hear that inner voice saying, “this is how the insanity continues.”