Merry's side: He doesn't get it
I opened the car door to blaring music that felt like nails on a chalkboard. How can he listen to that noise? I thought impatiently. Heaving a sigh, I clicked off the radio as I slid into the passenger seat.
"How was work?" Dave asked cheerfully.
"Exhausting and stressful."
I couldn't wait to get home. I envisioned our large bathtub filled with steaming water. A 30-minute soak with no interruptions just might make me feel human again.
"I've got an idea—let's go out for dinner," Dave suggested.
Pulled from dreams of candles and bubble bath, I frowned and shook my head. "Not tonight. I just want to go home." Restaurants can be so loud, I mused, and we can't afford to spend the money. I was imagining myself curled cozily into a chair, sipping hot tea, when Dave spoke again.
"Well, would you like to invite over some friends for dinner?"
Was he nuts? I tell him I've had a terrible day and he wants me to clean the house and cook dinner for company? "I said I've had a hard day. Didn't you hear me?" I snapped, amazed at how oblivious he was being.
Dave didn't respond, but a moment later he put his hand on my knee and smiled at me.
"Why are you so happy?" Did he actually think I'd feel like having sex tonight? We passed the rest of the car ride in silence.
How could Dave be so insensitive? This wasn't the first time he'd been less than understanding of my feelings, but it felt like the last straw. Why can't he be more attuned to what I need?1