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Plight Of Having A Talkative Wife by Carol Wells

I love my husband. I genuinely appreciate that he can tolerate my imperfections in what would be regarded as assets in my personality ... or would that my individuality? There do arise times, as in the course of any relationship, when he may prefer I kept some facets of my personality under better restraints. Say like in the wee early morning hours...

On the day when I met Frank, I had just driven eight hours from Indianapolis to Pittsburgh. During those eight hours behind the wheel of the car, I not only kept fuel in the gas tank but also myself with a steady supply of coffee. Sufficient to say, I consumed a decent amount of caffeine that day.

There is saying about first impressions lasting the longest. I believe Frank's first impression of me on that fateful evening has proven the saying based on some truth. We went to a local restaurant for a sandwich and to chat. I let him get in, possibly, five or six sentences during the course of the meal. I am not positive ... I was busy talking to him so I did not keep a tally.

Sure, I recall thinking more than once "Man, he undoubtedly thinks I am a talk-oholic ... " or "Hmm, wonder if I am boring him to death...." Emphasis being on I thought those although those thoughts were ineffective deterrent as my caffeine-fueled chatty side revealed itself in all its glory.

In the formative days of our relationship, I would happily talk his ear off if given the chance and he did provide ample opportunities. Some things never change.

Scores of nights, or early mornings, I lie next to him, in the darkened bedroom, talking up a storm by sharing humorous thoughts or trying to get his opinion about something. He will finally roll over to look me in the eye while grumpily muttering, "Jeez, you are in a chatty mood."

To which I will confirm the obvious with a smile, "Yep, I guess I am," then pick up the 'conversation' from where it was left at due to the 'interruption'. His response is to roll back over by trying to imitate a Richter 6 or so earthquake centered on our mattress.

He has learned, as have others, that when my mind gets on a chatty tailspin - those around me have to endure it until it slowly nose dives and crashes of its own accord. In other words, you usually have to wait until I run out of things to talk about.

It is like those kissing contests that spring up every year around Valentine's Day. Couples sign up to prove they can out-kiss the other couples although the contest is not centered around over what unusual or romantic way people share kisses but about who can keep their lips plastered to their partner's lips the longest. These contests can last for hours and sometimes around the clock to a new day.

This is how it can be when I get into a talkative mood. Except, unlike the kissing contest participants, I do not take breaks to coat my lips with lip balm nor do I win a vacation or any other type of prize.

When I go to bed, after he has a chance to curl up and start to drowse off, and I climb under the covers while asking "Are you asleep ... " and if he is not yet asleep …well, he is in a fine pickle of a situation.

Does he answer or try to avoid answering? Should he go into 'playing possum' mode?

Perhaps his dilemma about deciding whether to 'play possum' stems from that I am not easily predictable. Sometimes I ask him if he is asleep not in hopes to have an all night chat-a-thon with him but if I am able to watch a little TV before I fall asleep. However, the risk remains if he answers he isn't asleep yet that I may say, "Good, cause I can't sleep just yet ... want to talk for a little while?"

If I sense he is pretending to be asleep, then his pickle dilemma has worsened if I decide to torment Frank I will lie there, in the dark, chatting away about him to him. Sometimes I will pretend to supply answers to my questions for him. This is not an original ploy but still one that is fun.

I spin wild thoughts while biting back the urge to laugh watching him trying oh-so-hard to lie perfectly still struggling to not respond since he is giving all impressions of being sound asleep. I have "him" agreeing to accompany me to an antique shop, generously promising at least forty dollars for my spending pleasure at a local bookstore, or whatever I dream up to watch him squirm while 'he' is 'giving in' to my whims and desires while 'asleep'.

If he confesses to trying to play possum Frank may hear me respond with, "Good, now we can chat for a little while!"

On those nights he will just look at me while shaking his head and saying, "I knew I shouldn't have answered."

Humorous Book Recommendations:             [ view all ]
Sometimes I Wake Up Grumpy . . . and Sometimes I Let Him Sleep
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Advice for women that are coping with day-to-day interferences and moments of tribulation - doused with humor. Can you relate?

Be who you are and say what you feel cause people who mind don't matter, and people who matter don't mind.
-- Theodor "Dr. Seuss" Geisel

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