But back to Jane

Oh, Janie, Janie, Janie, what can I say?

Your husband is a mess, truly. Apparently he ate not one, but two full lunches yesterday -- talk about eating your emotions! And yesterday was one of those days that he just looked so, so sad. I've come to realize that he frequently looks like that on Mondays. It's as if instead of being rejuvenated and rested by the weekend, it drains him even more than work.

I do understand why he gets so angry with people at work sometimes. It's really the only thing that he has, isn't it, in which he feels like he is in control. I believe at his heart he realizes how much his life is controlled by the belief systems and social expectations of those around him, and to a large part by his own beliefs and societal pressures that he puts on himself. He recognizes it and doesn't like it, but doesn't see any way out of it. That is where the sadness comes from, I think. Somewhere in his puny brain, he grieves for his authentic self who is denied day after day. And the anger comes out of that grief; it's the only way he knows how to express it.

Tell you a story, Jane...

After your husband left his office yesterday, he called me from his cell phone in the car on the way home, just to tell me how close he came to driving to Brooklyn yesterday morning after dropping off his carpool buddy. And how he thought about lying in bed with me in my crappy little apartment in Bushwick and how he had actually been thinking about it all weekend, but he wasn't sure how I would receive it if he called me at 7:00 on a Monday morning. (I'm a slow starter in the morning, fyi)

So I told him he should just take that chance and make those calls when he wants to. And I also told him that as a friend, I was worried about him because he seemed so blue. That I know his business is bad right now (most everyone in our business is slow right now, but your husband seems to take it personally when it happens). Ya know what? He really seemed to appreciate it -- in fact, now that I think about it, he seems so grateful when anyone is kind to him.

So this morning, as it promised to be a blazing scorcher of a day, I awakened at 6:00 and was enjoying a cup of coffee and my book and the peaceful quiet time, and my phone rang -- close to 7 it was. Your husband had just dropped off his carpool buddy and asked if he could come to my house.

I met him at the door wrapped in my "ohmigod it's so freakin' hot" sarong, little realizing that he would react to it (the sarong) as "ohmigod that's so freakin' hot." He loved it. This old thang?

We adjourned to my chambre, the only air-conditioned room in the house, and he took off his shoes and sprawled out on my bed. This, as you probably know, leaves very little room for me, due to his largeness. He's a big boy, your husband is. I lay next to him with my arms around him, and we just lay quietly for some time.

"Can't we stay like this all day?" he said wistfully. "Just lying next to each other? I like this the best."

Blah-de-blah-de-blah. You know what happens next, no need for details.

Except for an observation that's kind of funny. Your husband always narrates whatever we're doing. I think it's hysterical. "I'm kissing you." "I'm falling off the bed!" "We're making out!" "You're smirking again."

Appreciating small kindnesses, he seemed genuinely surprised when I offered him a cup of coffee, then after he sat in my big chair waiting for me to dress, I brought it to him. There's that way people say "Thanks!" as if they can't believe someone thought of them.

I don't know how you are with each other in real life; I only know what he tells me (every 8 to 10 weeks, Jane? That's grounds for divorce!). But I do believe I can draw some conclusions based on how he reacts to how I am with him.

I wonder sometimes, do you walk around with the same sad look in your eyes, Jane?