I Still Get the Headaches

Well, she didn’t say, not in so many words. Usually, though, if she sees a chance of saying something, using many, many words, she takes it. Often with an alacrity surprising in one who otherwise sees little virtue in expending any effort when other alternatives are available.

Still, as they used to say in our old school, ‘you can’t quell a riot without cracking a few skulls.’

I still get the headaches.

So, her silence was a bit of a boon, one not to be wasted.

But that is the thing these days. When you have a bit of quiet, there is always the temptation to fill it with some sort of noise from YouTube videos through MP3s, TV, games and so on.

Silence can be worrying, as anyone who has ever had to look after young children can tell you. When it sounds like WWIII has broken out in the bedrooms upstairs, everything is fine. It is when it is silent up there you have to worry, fear they may be drinking your aftershave again, or playing lightsabres with the contents of the wife’s Special Solitary Happytime Drawer… again.

I still get the headaches.

Anyway, her silence was unusual enough for me to almost ask if anything is wrong. But she is one of those people who, if you ask them if anything is the matter, she will tell you… and often at great length and in detail. Luckily, though, not in the gynaecological detail that her grandmother would delight in regaling her ashen-faced audience whenever someone asked her how she was.

I still get the headaches.

Anyway, as most men know the secret of a happy marriage is to know that whatever it is that is wrong, it is undeniably your fault. However, it is always best not to give in too easily at first. Otherwise, she will have to cast around to find something else that is, even more, your fault. Unlikely as it may seem she could somehow stumble upon one of your few actual failings and expect you to expend some effort in correcting it. Which can often be a bit of a bugger, especially when there is the chance of there actually being something good on the telly for once.

Women do seem to suffer under a delusion that men are somehow repairable. That with a bit of effort, determination and application they can be turned into decent human beings. Eventually, of course, most of them give up on such over-ambitious idealism.

But I still get the headaches.

Anyway, as Tuesdays go, this was not a bad one. Although, up until the fourth glass of wine she still tends to regard Tuesdays as my fault. She long ago can to the realisation that she could not blame Mondays on me as – after all – they do happen to everyone at the end of every weekend. But Tuesdays though, she sees as very different from Mondays. Somehow, she is convinced they are my fault – like wedding anniversaries, only weekly instead of annually.

Although, I did ask her once why she thought I was the idiot in this relationship when she was the one stupid enough to marry someone like me.

That was a mistake.

And I still get the headaches.


Published by David Hadley

A Bloke. Occasionally points at ducks.

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