Recipe For: A Husband
I’ve decided to start sharing a series on this blog called Recipes For. I thought if we’re getting spicy, somebody better be checking out what’s happening in the kitchen!
Recently, a friend, who is struggling in her marriage, said to me, “If this is the recipe for a husband, I need a different recipe.” I found her words powerfully poignant, and deeply painful; I also found an obvious writing opportunity. I told her to do it and it would be brilliant and I would help her, but she told me to take it and run.
Let’s Discuss The Husband Recipe
One could argue there is no one recipe. No two people are alike. There is no one size fits all. True. If we’re going to keep this recipe metaphor going, you may have to adjust ingredient amounts, the oven temperature, and how long to cook depending on your oven’s make and model.
Okay, I’m out of metaphors. For now. 🙂
When my friend asked me how I’d done it, I’ll be married 17 years in June, and been successful and happy, I kind of laughed. I told her my secret was simple: from the beginning, I’ve never been afraid to walk away. I don’t put up with anything. Now that may sound callous or arrogant or possibly even immature, but let me tell you this – I’ve always been clear about my expectations and if you show me who you are, I believe you. You tell me you’re going to call and then you don’t. Fine, bye. I’m moving on. That’s not to say mistakes happen, life happens, and if you apologize genuinely and it never happens again, then we’re good. However, more often than not, it will happen again and again. I don’t waste my time. You waste your time on the wrong person, you’re missing out on the right person.
My first real boyfriend was horrible. Horrible. He taught me everything I ever needed to know about what not to do in a relationship. Don’t be with someone who consistently puts you down, tells you if you break up with him (and I did, 3 times, in fact, before it stuck) no one else will want you; constantly puts down your dreams, and tells you his dreams are what matter most, belittles your beliefs; I could go on and on. He drove my desire to never ever put up with anything less than exactly what I wanted. I’d rather be alone than unhappy. Which I was. With him. For two and a half years.
Interestingly, I met the man who would turn out to be my husband two months later. We started dating five months later. I’ve never felt like I wasn’t worth anything with him. In fact, I think he needs to get his value markers checked, but I digress.
I’m independent. Always have been. I think that helps too. Just thought that was worth mentioning.
They say opposites attract, but I think you kind of have be similar. What’s your idea of a fun night out? What do you like to eat? If all he wants to eat are chicken nuggets and refuses to eat vegetables, I have a feeling you’re going to be eating like garbage the rest of your life. Oh yeah, and you’re not his mom!! Don’t fall into the “I’ll change him” trap either. Is he motivated to take care of his family? Will he do whatever it takes to make sure your family is taken care of — even if that means two jobs?
I’m not saying you have to be mirror images (because that would be weird), but some of the bigger ticket items need to be there. No coupon clipping (ohh! found another metaphor!) on finances, religion, family planning, and anything you hold near and dear to your heart.
Here’s my suggestion for the Recipe For a Husband:
(So, my web designer says I needed to include a bio, though I find this task silly because, if you’re here, you know me.)
I’m a writer. It’s what I do. It’s a cathartic mechanism when I need release from my anxiety. I’ve had blogs in the past; I’ve taken them down, but I never stopped writing. I simply can’t. My notes app is forever long as it’s filled with pages and pages of different topics. Sometimes I just write a few sentences. Sometimes I write paragraphs.
Recently, I've been writing long essays. My friends and others I hold dear have coaxed me into sharing my work again.
So that's what I'm doing, you wicked, pushy people. LOL
I have no desire to see my writing be anything more than an opportunity to share what I love doing most. I have no interest in this blog reaching the masses.
I thought it would be fun to call it My Spicy Disaster because that's often how I feel. A complete mess of epic proportion. So join me, if you'd like, and let's pretend we're not sitting amongst the chaos crying, but laughing instead.
Or maybe we do cry sometimes, but then wipe our tears and remember one person’s disaster is another person’s … well, who the hell knows …
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