PostHeaderIcon Somebody is being sat on.


One of the interviewees in my book Sex in Your Seventies logically said, ‘If there are no arguments in a marriage, somebody is being sat on...’

This was truly exemplified in a conversation I had the other day. The other lady was complaining how hurt she was feeling. How sadly she went to bed the previous night. They were going to his daughter’s wedding that afternoon. As usual, he was preoccupied with his ‘business’ affairs (which are always in crisis mode) and was very tardy in getting to the bathroom for his shower and shave. There was little time to spare. But on looking in the mirror, he decided that his hair needed a trim around the ears, and bounded out to the kitchen where she was doing the washing-up, and requested that she drop everything and see to his hair. Sighing inwardly, she agreed and prepared the chair and the implements. Upon cutting his hair, she cleaned up the mess and put away the tools, the while he was saying something, loudly, from the bathroom.

He often spoke and expected her to run to where he was, to answer him. This time, it took her a while to go to him. But when she did, a hectic scene met her eyes. The bathroom was flooded! Vanity was in disarray, the two thick mats were sopping wet, and he was straddling the two clean towels that he had taken from their rails and put on the floor.
‘I left the bloody taps on,’ he explained as he shaved, ‘you’ll have to clean it up! I’m late as it is!’ She said nothing, but was aghast. He was so preoccupied with his problems that he was becoming forgetful...and she dare not say anything for fear of annoying him. And she wanted to enjoy the wedding.

She brought the squeegee and commenced removing the water from the floor, squeezing it into the toilet. He showered. She mopped. He dressed with her vocal help, and she mopped. As he bounded down the hall to the waiting driver of the wedding car, she mopped. More towels were put on the floor to allow her to use the bathroom as she prepared herself for the wedding. Time was short, but she was well organised and would get to the chapel in time for the bridal party to arrive. The towels on the floor were drenched, but they could wait until they arrived home.

It was nine hours before they arrived home. She had written his speech for him and it went over well. They had a happy time with all of his relatives, including his ex-wife with whom she has a very pleasant relationship. Yes, it was all enjoyable, ‘a lovely wedding’ as they say. All thoughts of the wet bathroom fled.

But there they were, the saturated towels had to be removed and the still wet floor dried off.
‘You owe me one,’ she quipped to him as she took the towels to the laundry. ‘Big time...’
‘I don’t owe you a bloody thing!’ he snarled as he undressed, ‘I cleaned up the bulk of it!’
‘But it caused me a lot of work, and it was not my fault!’ she protested.
‘It was an accident! It wasn’t intentional! Do you think I would leave the taps on, on purpose?’

All right, all right, she thought, I don’t want to argue after having a pleasant evening. I want to sleep soundly. But why could he not have replied, ‘Yes, thank you for cleaning it up for me. You did a good job as always.’ Or similar. He just cannot take any inference that he is less than perfect. And it is so hurtful, and it made her go to sleep sad.