Can you imagine what it would be like to hang out with yourself, or for that matter, be married to yourself? To have to deal with your own obnoxious quirks, your own irritating behaviors. I guess I’m biased to this question ‘cause I happen to think I’m awesome; but in all honesty, if I were to be around myself longer than a day, I would be exhausted and in need of a mind-numbing beverage… With our cable turned off for the summer (it’s a teacher thing-TV rots your brains kids), I’ve had a lot of time with my overactive imagination, contemplating many things.

To imagine having to deal with my anxious, emotional, neurotic behavior is enough to make me want to run head first into a wall, conk-out, and avoid the drama for a few hours in an unconscious stupor. I guess that’s why I married my opposite; The Yin to my Yang, the black to my white, or more like the beer to my coffee. “Opposites attract.” I suppose this is true, but when inhabiting with your polar opposite compromise becomes the magic word.

Case in Point:

My inimitable husband and I could not be more different than the Turtle and the Hare. In fact, his nickname among his BoyScout group of friends just so happens to be, Turtle. I suppose this can be attributed to his ultra-mellow disposition, and his “slow and steady wins the race” approach. Also, I can imagine he got the nickname from the way he looks when he sprints…imagine if you will a turtle running and with each step his head going further into his shell, tucking into his body…kinda cute. A psychologist would categorize him as typical Type-B disposition. Type B individuals such as Turtle are a perfect contrast to those with Type A personalities (myself). People with Type B personalities are generally tolerant, undisturbed, even-tempered, and at times lacking an overriding sense of urgency. These individuals tend to be sensitive of other peoples feelings, selfless, and sweethearts in the eyes of many.

Though hard-working and working often, like the typical type B personality- he prefers taking it easy in his down time doing things like hanging out on the couch, watching football (cable gets conveniently turned back on when the season starts), BBQing, and throwing back some cold ones as he assesses the performance of what he calls “modern day gladiators” aka football players. His wife, myself, is of the hyper-active variety; running circles around him literally and metaphorically. A Type-A personality to the core; ambitious, aggressive, controlling, highly competitive, impatient, preoccupied with my reflection, and tightly-wound. In my free time I like to clean house, run marathons, and start multiple projects that I never entirely finish unless it’s for my benefit -did somebody say selfish??? (yes, my sister says it often…) My caffeinated blood, and over dosage of B vitamins doesn’t really help Turtle’s efforts to help me relax; so, often he sends me out of the house to run circles around the neighborhood or get a massage when I start to make him too dizzy.

With our personalities being so opposing, we have had to learn to compromise. In the past few months, we have negotiated partaking in activities that the other enjoys…Turtle decided he would amp up his activities and join me in my quest to become Ms. Fitness Suburbia, so I bought him a bike. Now he and the Beasts ride their bikes while I run through trails. Just this morning Turtle requested something unusual…No it wasn’t a new toy to add to his collection of untouched tools in the garage, not even an 18 pack of Coors Light or Carne Asada Burrito…as I was pulling out to take my morning trip to Starbucks, Turtle asked for a coffee! WHAT?! Oh yes he did…so I got him just that, and had the barista add a few shots of espresso to see where this would take us…hopefully to Turtle on a mission and some cleaner cars.

This was not just a one-sided cooperation…with Turtle being obsessive about football, being a coach and a die-hard fan, I figured I could try to like it too…I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate football, but I definitely liked it more before I met my husband; before I was given disproportionate weekly, and sometimes daily, exposure to it in multiple hours a day doses. So, I set my heart out to watch a game or two with my Turtle, *but only if I could dress-up and participate in the profane yelling (to me, stress venting) at the TV. Turtle agreed…

In time, I found myself actually enjoying these prolonged sessions of vegging on our couch, watching these “gladiators” in tight pants with ripped muscles beating each other down. The margaritas made it even easier to watch this game I had for so long dreaded every Sunday, Monday, and Thursday.

For now, it looks like Turtle and I have turned over a new leaf. Enjoying each other’s company, doing things we love. Our opposing qualities have meshed to become complimentary. I like this new compromise business…I wonder how Turtle will react to my proposal to take up salsa dancing…slow and steady will win this race.

How have you had to compromise to become complimentary? Are you married to your opposite?

Seven years into the nuptials and 4 babies/liabilities later, it takes a lot to excite me. Really, these days even a half-naked Channing Tatum whispering in my ear the things he’d like to do to me would merit a “Shhhhh, could you stop breathing in my ear? Your hot breath is annoying and I’m trying to finish this book.” Sure, I like to admire the husband’s toned bod pumping weights in the garage, and it might cause my heart to be tickled if I let my mind wander for a bit, but I usually get diverted by the dishes in the sink before we make anything of it.

However, the other day the husband did something that provoked my libido, made me want to rip his clothes off, and smooch his sexy face. As I was making my rounds through the house, picking up socks and underwear to start a load of laundry, I caught a glimpse of the husband cleaning out the garage. I couldn’t help but take notice, for this was a rare occurrence. (Before I go any further , allow me to give credit where credit is due: the husband is anything but slothful, and is in fact hard working and a great provider; however, his house is his sanctuary and he’s content with lounging around on his days off as a reward for his long hours on the job…). However, as the queen of the house, I need order, and with only one set of hands, there’s only so much I can do. So, back to the story… I’d been asking him to assist in the household duties for quite some time and he would always reassure me, “Ok, I’ll do it later… after the game’s over… after I’m done taking a nap…” *WTF. Is it just me or is the husband’s response of “later” usually an attempt to pacify and generally “code” for, ‘I’m not doin’ that shit on my day off’…

I’m no advocate of domestic violence and I undoubtedly don’t promote hostile behavior, but I concede that my auto-reaction to these responses is always a smart ass quip and visual/daydreamish scene (in my mind of course) of me head-butting him or drop-kicking him to the curb as I finish the request myself. I can’t blame the husband, it is partially my fault. Behaviorists would say that I have trained him to respond this way. He has been taught that if it’s not done when I want it done, all he has to do is sit around for another 30 minutes then the wife’s OCD will kick in = job done. So, after the house is uncontaminated, I’ve taken out the trash, dusted, vacuumed, pulled the weeds, systematized the sock drawer, and the other tedious dumb shit that is essential in keeping an orderly house, the husband will look up from the T.V. and exclaim, “Wow, the house looks great, but I would have done it if you would have just been patient.” …”No worries sweetie,” I respond with a smile, if looks could kill.

Anyway, back to the jaw-dropping moment: There was the husband, throwing out junk and organizing the garage. He had my full attention. He continued to the front of the house to clear the walk-way and move the “give-away junk” away from sight. In slow motion I watched his muscles flex as he lifted and strained his hard-working arms and then peering up from the sweat of his brow, as if he hadn’t noticed me watching, he asked, “Hey love, is there anything else you need done today?”

“Ahhhhhhhh, talk dirty to me baby,” I thought.

He just looked so dang erogenous taking care of business. For a second I thought, should I be suspicious of such a pro-active manner? But that thought was fleeting as he continued on with his work, checking off my list of honey-dos, without complaint. Later that night as the kids lay their heads upon their pillows, I lay my head on the husband’s chest… he rubbed my back and whispered naughty notions in my ear, “Tomorrow I’m going to the dump to get rid of that junk I cleared out of the garage. After breakfast, I’ll wash the cars and fix the dishwasher too.”

As a working woman, mother to many, and the jack-of-all trades when it comes to keeping the house in order, I can say in all sincerity: there is no bigger turn-on in these child-rearing/house managing stages of life then the husband taking care of business around the house; doing things without being asked, taking care of the ‘honey-dos’, using his God-given strength to partake in the house-management duties.

A Note to the Men: You better believe that when the day is done, and you’ve done your part and helped out with “the humdrum,” Momma bear will have a whole lot more verve to handle business in the bed.

Sure, there were things about my wife that gently pressed my buttons when we got together; annoying habits, odd turns of phrase and other minor stuff. Then we had children and what were once mild irritants began to drive me nuts!

I mean, seriously, who brushes her teeth after applying makeup? Doesn’t she know that brushing and rinsing can ruin carefully applied base? Then you have to reapply, whereas if she just reversed the order…. Okay, maybe that is minor.

But whazzup with, “Are you okay?” It was one thing for her—well, both of us—to be manic are-you-okayers when our head-bonking daughter was younger (she still reminds me of a drunken sailor when she races across a room and she’s almost 5), but we know from experience that she’s usually okay. Wouldn’t it be better for our toddler son, for his sense of self and independence, to not hear that question so often… especially because he’s too young to answer?

As challenging as I find some of my spouse’s behaviors, I wonder:

What if the things that bug me are also opportunities to get closer?

What if every time our spouses acted in ways that make us uncomfortable, we tried to understand more and judge less?

Take Mike and Tina*, for example: When they got together, Tina thought Mike’s special, individualized handshake for greeting friends was adorable. Adorable became irritating when Mike started doing it with Max, their son. By insisting that he and 4-year-old Max shake hands when Mike gets home from work (before doing anything else), Tina thinks he’s sending the message that Mike’s needs trump Max’s.

Let’s pretend Mike’s handshakes are hard-wired. Unless Tina likes being pissed off, how can she shift her view of Mike’s behavior?

1. Reflect: Other people’s qualities or behaviors get magnified when we think they negatively affect our kids. Yet, often, what bugs us in others reflects what we don’t like in ourselves.

When Tina thought about Mike’s behavior from this perspective, she realized she was terrified of putting her own needs before those of her child. Mike’s habit mirrored a fear she has about herself.

Once Tina recognized her fear, and admitted there will be times when she will put herself first, her husband’s habit lost its charge.

2. Understand: There’s a useful concept from Neuro-Linguistic Programming that goes something like this…

Behind every behavior is a “positive intention” that serves us.

Positive intentions include being liked, eliciting affection or staying safe. So if your spouse does something that drives you batty, ask yourself - What positive intention might be behind his or her behavior?

By trying to answer (even if we’re wrong), we usually increase compassion for spouses. We might not agree with their approach, but if we try to understand what drives them, we soften the impact of their behaviors on us, and substitute empathy for criticism.

3. Appreciate: What gifts might be hidden in our spouse’s behavior?

What did Tina discover? She’s comforted by the predictability of Mike’s handshakes and likes that he literally touches people he loves. Plus, she realized that, while handshakes aren’t her style, she wants to be more demonstrative.

The more we reflect, understand and appreciate, the more we strengthen our relationships. Not coincidentally, doing so expands our bandwidth for accepting and loving our kids… especially when they drive us crazy!

*Names and some details have been changed to protect privacy.

When my hubby was stationed in San Diego several years ago, our mail lady gave me a book for a Christmas gift, which I thought was sweet. Then I opened it and found it was a book with ways to spoil your husband that was originally written in the 1970s. Here are just a few of the 100 ways…

Reorganize his closet for him sometime – I did that for my husband once while he was away on deployment. I try not to look in his closet because it makes me twitchy. Some clothes will only be halfway on the hanger, there are clothes on the floor, and his hangers are pointing every which way.

Once he got home and saw what I did, he was kind of pissed off. He’s a man of few words, but the look on his face said it all. I haven’t touched his closet since. Every now and then I can’t take it and I’ll beg him to let me, but he’s happy with his closet looking like a natural disaster hit it.

Drop whatever you are doing if he needs you for anything. – Um, yeah. I already have a 3 year-old, I don’t need another one at the moment.

Bake him cookies. Always keep a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookie dough (or whatever his favorite is) ready. This will tame the cookie monster in him. Men love sweet treats – Okay, this is just crazy talk. Leave cookie dough uneaten? It’s madness I tell you!

When eating out, do simple things like sweetening his iced tea or unfolding his napkin. This is a simple servant attitude. – After being married to him for nearly 17 years, if I pulled something like this on my husband, he’d probably die of shock.

If you are traveling somewhere and are lost, please don’t make him ask for directions. He will eventually find it. Just be patient. – Before we had a GPS my husband had a knack for finding the scariest places to drive through to get to where we were going. I would always tell him he needs to stop at a gas station and ask for directions, but he would never listen to me.

You know that scene in Ghost where Patrick Swayze’s supposed friend gets killed and those creepy figures come for him? Most of the places we’ve gotten lost in would be where those creepy figures live. My husband can still get lost with the GPS because he’ll think he knows a better way. I’m not dying and having creepy figures drag me away just so my hubby can keep his manly pride.

If you buy something that needs to be put together, hire someone else to put it together. Please. – I bought a new elliptical in January and I’m still waiting for my hubby to put it together. Every weekend he says he’ll get to it and I tell him I can just get somebody else to put it together. My husband always says no way is he paying for someone else to do it and he’ll get to it eventually. I’m hoping it’s by the end of the year, but I’d consider myself lucky if it was by next Spring.

Am I alone here? Do you do these things for your partner?

I found this sort of guide to wifery online, from the 50′s, a couple of years ago, and supposedly it’s called, The Good Wife’s Guide. “Is this legit, Aunt Becky?” you ask me, a disapproving tone in your otherwise flawless voice. And I will tell you, with absolute certainty, that it doesn’t f***ing matter. It’s Comedy Gold.

Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready on time for his return. This is a way of letting him know that you have be thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they get home and the prospect of a good meal is part of the warm welcome needed.

Planning it out in advance is saying, “Pick up some Chinese food tonight on your way home from work” at 3pm. Trust me when I tell you that I am concerned about my needs far more than his.

Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you’ll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people.

Now, I’m not trying to imply that I look like a million bucks when Dave walks in the door, but honestly the last thing on my mind at 7pm is “Sh*t! Do I look okay?” It’s much more like, “Did I accidently microwave the cat, AGAIN? Sh*t!”

Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it.

Dude. I’m always a little gay. *waggles eyebrows suggestively*

Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives. Run a dustcloth over the tables.

What the flicka is a dust cloth? And I’ll happily make an effort to pick up the clutter the day that Dave does not have a roving sock colony following him around like a wee family.

During the cooler months of the year you should prepare and light a fire for him to unwind by. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift too. After all, catering to his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisfaction.

Are you SERIOUS? I don’t know how to work the fireplace, and I don’t intend to learn. If he wants to relax by the fire, he can light it himself. I don’t know when catering to anyone’s comfort has provided me with any type of satisfaction.

Unless it involved Prada purses. …Then I could cater a lot.

Minimize all noise. At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer or vacuum. Encourage the children to be quiet. Be happy to see him.

If there is noise in the home, it means I am home.

I am noisy.

I am loud.

I speak at extremely deafening decibels.

And really, if I am actually doing these household chores, he should be pleased that I’m not pawning them off on him.

Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him.

My desire to please him? Bwhahahahahahahaha!

*wipes tears from eyes*

Hahahahahahahaha!

Yeah. Right.

Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first – remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours.

If I waited until Dave stopped talking to tell him such things as, “the sump pump backed up and the basement is flooded” or “I want to have a threesome with a midget,” I’d never be heard.

Dave and I talk over each other with such comfortable regularity that we have actually made a sign that says “Floor” to use when we have Important Discussions.

And wait, how the hell is “the cpm processor of horhelsag to the ajfoijhriwndas is jdsa;hfrioenrhiubnf,” more important than, “Our bedroom smells like cheese” or “cherry flavored pez is a wonderfood.” Because it’s totally not.

Don’t greet him with complaints and problems.

Who else can I greet this way?

Don’t complain if he’s late for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through at work.

If he stays out all night, trust me, my complaining will be the last thing he’s concerned about. More pressing needs might be “How do I get my testicles back from the sewer system?” or “Where else can I let my roving sock colony live? OH LOOK, SOCKS, MADE A BABY! It’s TWINS!”

Make him comfortable. Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or lie him down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him.

Um, yeah, Michael, how’s it going? Now about that TPS Report? Unless his arm is falling off, he had better pitch in with the kids, the dogs, buying me dinner, whatever. With a big smile on his face.

Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice.

My voice is like a sack of cats fighting over a mouse on a chalkboard. And I yell. Most of the time. And where would I take his shoes? On a date?

Don’t ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.

MASTER OF THE GOTDAMN HOUSE? Bwahahahahaha!

That’s right, Internet, The Daver is Master of the Bwahahahaha! I can’t even type it without laughing.

I mean, seriously, what am I supposed to say when he says, “I think we should buy a truckload of Twinkies and the biggest Fry Daddy we can find! F**k our retirement!!” Color me boring but I don’t think, “Whatever you say, dear” would work well.

A good wife always knows her place.

Dude, exactly; “my place” is anywhere I f**king want it to be.