When A Man Loves A Woman….

That doesn’t necessarily mean that sometimes we don’t want to choke the hell out of you (it’s okay fellas, I’ll say what you wanna say). Now Rachel knows I love her to death, but that woman knows how to work a nerve. As I’m sitting on this couch watching Sunday Night Football, I recall several conversations I’ve had over the years with various men in her family. Although the conversations occurred at different times, with different people, and under different conditions, the phrase was always the same. “How can you put up with Rachel’s mouth?!”. The simple, and for the most part, honest answer was, “she doesn’t bring that mouth over here”. Now at this time I’d like to take a personal timeout to say, when Rachel’s in her mode, she really doesn’t give a damn who gets it (me included). The difference was, and still is, if she brings that mouth over here, I’m coming right back at her (I’m talkin’ all tough like she’s not gonna read this too). Seriously though, with this chick, you really have to pick and choose your battles. Earlier today, I definitely chose the wrong one.

Now this morning we didn’t go to church like we planned. For whatever reason, today we decided that shopping was more important than receiving the Word (trippin’). Now before you go there, don’t judge us like you didn’t show up to church 30 minutes late (if at all) with a hangover, still smelling like the club. Anyway, the day started off really well. We chitchatted it up about this and that, playing catch-up since we didn’t get to spend a lot of time with each other yesterday. We get to the mall, in search of a specific blazer for Rachel for a special photo op. Now I’m out there cool as a cucumber. I’m hitting all the female sections with her, rummaging through all types of stuff in search of this magical blazer. What Rachel didn’t know was that as I’m doing this, I’m patting myself on the back, like, “Yea, check me out. I’m the best husband ever. I’m being supportive. I’m helping her find this blazer. All these women out here must think I’m the best husband ever. They wish they had a man like me.” 45 minutes later – I’m not really feeling this shopping experience anymore. Now I’m kicking myself in the ass, like, “She can’t be f&$*ing serious?! I mean, who’s really looking at you that damn hard anyway?! I sure wish she’d pick one of the damn blazers before I walk out this mall and leave her ass here!” What actually comes out of my mouth, “Well, baby, maybe they don’t make the particular style you’re looking for.” And I say this like that little weak comment was really going to stop this determined woman from finding this blazer. 5 minutes later, my nerves are shot, and now I just can’t help myself. This is where I took a turn for the worse.  

Check me out – “Look, my nerves are getting bad, so I really don’t care which one you choose. Just pick one!” Little voice in my head, “Honesty – Not always the best policy dumbass.” So Rachel gets this look in her eyes, and it was clear that I took it too far.

Rachel’s turn. “Thanks for being supportive, but no one asked you to come out here in the first damn place.” Now this clearly wasn’t all she said, but I have been known to suffer from a condition known as selective short-term memory. Let’s just say that after she was done giving me the business, I thought that my time would be better spent with my mouth shut while she decided on which blazer she wanted.

What’s really sad is that if I had just been able to hang in there for another 5 minutes as she finalized her purchase, I could have avoided public embarrassment. Luckily, we were able to get back on the same page (meaning she forgave me) before we left the mall.

As men, we try to do the right thing by going the extra mile to show our women how much we care, but sometimes it’s just better to let them do things their way, and fall back. Don’t get caught up in doing something because you think it’ll make you look good, do it because you actually care.

Clearly, God wasn’t pleased with my decision as head of household today, and showed me the error in my ways. Next Sunday, looks like we’ll be headed to Alfred Street Baptist Church.

Fyi...the pics were from a cookout at my boy’s birthday back in April, but I’ve seen this face (and made that face) for several years now. I’ll get it right one day…just not today.