My husband Matt is nursing a beer on the edge of our couch. His clammy hands are squeezing the bottle for dear life, and the look on his face is a mixture of shock and awe. I’m frantically pacing in front of him, arms moving wildly and tears streaming down my face. To be quite honest, I have absolutely no idea what I’m currently talking about, because the (completely me-driven) conversation started about an hour ago.
But don’t tell my husband that.
Most of our fights around this time of the month tend to deal with his lack of romantic gestures, us not having enough sex, or him forgetting something important. Funny enough, the whole time I’m verbally barfing up my ginormous feelings to Matt, I’m forgetting something important too.
I end my audience-of-one Ted talk with three ominous sentences that manage to both openly infuriate my spouse and secretly relieve him. These are the words I always manage to spurt out and immediately regret. And each month, against my better judgment, I absentmindedly say them all over again.
“I can’t stay married like this anymore! I’m done! I want a DIVORCE!”
This is usually when my husband gives me “the look.” It’s his way of silently communicating words he knows, if shared to me at that very moment, will be spoken at his peril.
Matt’s a really smart guy, so he also knows exactly what to do next. He profusely apologizes for whatever I’m upset about. He tells me he loves me and doesn’t ever want to divorce me. And then he stops talking. In fact, my husband keeps his mouth shut for pretty much the rest of the night. Like clockwork, I react to his quiet demeanor with even less rationality than anything I’ve done prior in the evening. I spiral into full meltdown mode, curl up in our bed alone, and proceed to cry like a baby until I pass out.
It isn’t until the next day that Matt quietly says what’s been on his mind since I impulsively opened my mouth last night. He knows not to say it too abruptly, for that will surely incite tear-induced defensiveness.
Him: “Well, I think maybe…”
Him: “I think… you might be getting your period.”
I put on the charm and immediately change the subject. But deep down, I’m usually hemming and hawing. I am so not comfortable with Matt treating me like he’s a meteorologist predicting the onset of a Nor’easter. And anyway, how can a dude who knows absolutely nothing about having a period easily guess a lady’s time of the month like that? Am I wearing a shirt that says “PMS Woman Walking” or something?
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It’s this guy’s birthday today. He is my best friend, my biggest all-time crush, & my partner in so many crimes. He’s makes me piss laugh regularly & leaves ample space on his shoulder for my head when the tears are a flowin’. He is always the first to apologize, always willing to see my point of view, always showing up for me in ordinary & extraordinary ways. He has every single quality of exactly the kind of dad you want for your kiddos. And he’s growing into exactly the kind of husband I never knew I always needed. He can also walk on water, but I’ll leave that for our anniversary post. I love you, Matthew Michael Garofalo.
A post shared by Lindsay Wolf (@thelindsaywolf) on Oct 9, 2019 at 5:19am PDT
The most annoying part is that Matt is always, without a friggin’ doubt, 100% right. I hate how much he’s right. My husband consistently knows I’m getting my period before I even do, and it annoys the shit out of me.
Apparently, I am tediously predictable in this area. Because apparently, I threaten to divorce my husband a few days before I get my period every single month. Matt has become skilled at knowing when Aunt Flo is coming into town because it’s the only point in our month when my catastrophic thinking gets us real damn close to a legitimate end of times.
Being diagnosed this past year with complex PTSD certainly hasn’t helped matters either. It basically makes me act like a giant ball of PMS-ridden panic. And since I’m terrible at keeping track of when my own period will arrive, these episodes of overly dramatized living seem to come out of nowhere. As you would expect, this thrills my husband to no end.
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Back in 2014, I went on a second date with a guy I’d met through OkCupid. We chose to meet at @masaofechopark in LA, because they have a vegan menu & the deep dish pizza is out of this world. That night, unbeknownst to us, we were sat at the “Engagement Table.” A picture hangs above this table, showing previous successful marriage proposals, which I noticed hanging on the wall midway through the date. The waiter who served us that night asked us how long we’d been a couple, and we nervously laughed & said we’d only gone out once before. I was still feeling on the fence about giving my heart over to someone new, so the comment threw me a bit… but this guy made it so easy to open up & trust. Two months after our second date, I found myself pregnant with our daughter, and away we went. It’s been quite the emotional & physical whirlwind, as we’ve been navigating a quick kind of love that can only occur when you create a family while you’re dating each other. But I honestly wouldn’t change a thing. A couple of weeks ago, I arranged a last-minute surprise birthday dinner for my now husband at Masa, and we were sat surprisingly right next to the Engagement Table. As we looked down at our menus just moments after being sat down, the people eating at the neighboring table got up to leave. I immediately asked for the waiter to seat us there. I’ve got about three weeks left until my baby boy’s arrival, and moments like this one pictured, while fleeting, remind me why I chose to dive in so fast with my husband. It’s spontaneous experiences like this that help me steer the chaotic waters of life with a smile on my face & an ease in my heart. Because even when life doesn’t make a ton of sense, we do. #marriage #okcupid #myfamily
A post shared by Lindsay Wolf (@thelindsaywolf) on Oct 18, 2018 at 8:11am PDT
Now, there is some good news in all of this. Matt has become so adept at predicting the monthly metaphorical car wreck before I do, that he’s been jumping in more to help prevent the word “divorce” from spilling out of my mouth. He checks in regularly, doles out lots of bear hugs, and always buys me yummy snacks and that seltzer I like. Basically, he treats me like he did when I was pregnant with our kids.
TBH, my husband is kind of my hero in this department. He has a ton of patience and compassion for me, especially around these moments. And him being ahead of the game in the period crisis management department has led me to feel a teensy bit calmer during the inevitable times when I want to hardcore freak out.
I’m definitely considering getting him a special blue cape or something. On second thought, maybe I’ll make it red. Because I can’t think of a single husband who doesn’t want an unavoidable reminder that they are the prophet of female menstruation.
The post PMS Makes Me Want To Divorce My Husband Once A Month appeared first on Scary Mommy.
My husband consistently knows I’m getting my period before I even do, and it annoys the shit out of me.
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