February 28, 2009

Say My Name

When my husband and I got married, there was a lot of adjusting to do.

I think a lot of couples assume that they'll be in a honeymoon phase, and really, it's not always like that. Marriage isn't all sunshine and roses like I thought it would be. It was hard work. (It still is) And the beginning was full of miscommunications, hard glares and empty threats of "if you put the milk carton in the fridge when it's empty, I'm going to key your truck!" (not my best moment)

But I can specifically recall the biggest fight we ever got in. (And it isn't the one where he wouldn't move out of my way in the hall. I mean, not that it was MY apartment that HE moved into and by rights of proper ownership, HE should have moved out of MY way. Right? That's what she said.)

NO, it was much bigger than that.

See, I have this name thing. Call me crazy, but I like to be addressed by my name.

When I meet new people, I like to be introduced, or introduce myself, with my first name. It's a beautiful name, and I'm rather fond of it.

And the DadGuy? He would NEVER. EVER. CALL. ME. BY. MY. NAME.

When he introduced me at work:

"This is my wife."

And that was it! Like he expected people to call me 'DadGuy's wife.' It drove me insane.

And when we were alone, he'd call me "honey" Honey! I think I threw up in my mouth a little. I mean, really, a pet name? Does he even know me? Did he learn nothing in our three month courtship?

Now, I'd like to clarify a few matters that I think are entirely relevant to the story, and as such, must be included, no matter how insignificant.

I supported him. He was in school. I had just opened a salon, and I had gotten a full time job working in a Pediatrics office so that we could have insurance. He went to school IN THE MORNING….for a COUPLE OF HOURS. Then he would go to his cushy internship and play on the internet until 4:30 at which point he would come home to watch TV.

I had the joyous task of waking up at dawn to go work for doctors who are always right, even when they're wrong, because they are right. They're doctors. Gah.

After I locked up there, I would drive over to my salon and work for a few hours on clients. Then I would stay and finish up paperwork, and inventory, and orders, and on and on and on. I rarely got home before midnight. So that I could wake up in five hours and do it all over again.

After a particularly long work day, dealing with very high maintenance clients, I got home and was looking forward to crashing. As I walked in the door, I hear:

"Hey, HONEY. What's for dinner?"

"What?"

"Dinner. Did you already eat?"

"What? What did you just call me?"

"Ummmm, honey…. Are you okay?"

At which point, I absolutely lost it.

"Don't call me HONEY! I have a name! Do you know my name? Do you?"

I could tell that he was concerned at this point.

"Honey, I think you're overreacting a little bit."

"MY! NAME! IS! NOT! HONEY! Say my name! Say it right now!"

"Honey, you're being ridiculous."

"SAY MY NAME! Say it right now! Say my name! Can you? Do you even know what it is? SAY! MY! FREAKIN! NAME! Do it! Do it right now. S.A.Y. M.Y. N.A.M.E."

"What is your problem?"

"SAY MY NAME! It's not 'honey'. It's not 'your wife'. I have a name. Do you remember what it is? Say it! Say it! Say my name! SAY IT!"


*****

It was not my proudest moment as a new wife.

So that's it, the biggest fight I've ever had with my husband, who I dearly love.

For the record, he still calls me honey. Cringe.