My husband rarely smiles. It takes an awful lot to get him to pucker those lips and bare his teeth. Of course this is just one of many personality traits I was very well aware of going into this union. I am completely opposite, if I feel good, my grin will be from ear to ear.
I am not bashing my husband– in fact I feel fortunate that he’s not Charlie Sheening it; shacking up with “two goddesses,” steadfast in his belief that tiger blood is indeed coursing through his veins and going on tangents about how uber intelligent he is. (And all these years poor Denise Richards was supposedly the hot mess partner in that failed marriage) but I digress.
My husband is essentially a good egg; he shows up, feigns interest in the things I ask him and when it comes to my kids well he is super entrenched in their lives; is the go-to math and science homework helper, is their personal chef and when they Bart Simpson him into submission, anything is theirs for the taking.
I know so much of the way men act, is part of their biology and socialization. I know that my husband did not grow up in a very demonstrative home- and I also know that the only way to get him excited is if I bring home a wad of cash, or if by some divine intervention the Met’s actually WIN a game. I know it sounds like I am reducing him to his basest stereotypes but that is who he is. He will not change, and unfortunately neither will I.
Is it wrong of me that I wanted to see a bit more emotion from him? It is what it is but I don’t have to like it… and if I have to hear him tell me one more time that he’s in the majority of men who don’t flit around giddy with excitement over their kids well he’s going to be the recipient of an old-fashioned silent treatment.