Lrudlrick got a motorcycle riding permit. It wasn’t a mutually discussed item. In fact, in our ten years together, it’s essentially the first thing he’s done without speaking to me about. Ok, aside from the asking me to marry him in front of a giant whale and thousands of strangers.
You’d think I’d be miffed. Well, I was but not as much as I thought I’d be. I’ve been indifferent about it. Now, if he came home with a bike, that’s another story.
What irks me the most is that my husband’s excuse was that he knew I’m not keen on the motorcycle riding in the city and felt if he didn’t talk about it, it wouldn’t be a problem. I don’t see the logic in this.
I’m too busy with the nuttiness of my world to really be hurt by this. I suppose for him this is a good thing. I mean, I’m pretty sure my names listed as a beneficiary. Mental note: check insurance policy.
Where I ask his opinion about everything from what shoe to wear to what annuity I should sock into, he only consults with me for ‘big ticket’ items. Heck, at our last shopping excursion, I made him walk across the mall to help me decide if 1 skirt suit, 2 button down shirts and a skirt were too much to pick up in one store.
It’s not that I’m indecisive. Yes, I take a very long time and weigh everything but I can make my own decisions. Why then do I consult him for these silly incidentals?
