A fictionalized column about jealousy and overinterpretation.
My wife, Emma, changed her intimate grooming. I noticed, wondered why, and then allowed a fairly ordinary observation to become a detective series with no budget and very poor evidence.
For years she had preferred one style. Now she preferred another. My mind supplied a mysterious audience for the change, followed by a theory about the audience, followed by a strong conviction that I should say something subtle.
“That’s different,” I said.
“Yes,” she replied.
The investigation had stalled.
I asked whether there was a reason. She said she wanted to try something different. This was a perfectly usable explanation. Unfortunately, I had spent several minutes preparing for intrigue and was reluctant to abandon the work.
A friend had once told me that changes in appearance could mean something. They can, of course. Sometimes they mean the person wanted a change in appearance. This interpretation suffers from a lack of dramatic music but has much to recommend it.
Eventually I admitted that I had been feeling insecure. That was a conversation Emma could join. Defending herself against a theory assembled from grooming choices was considerably less appealing.
If there were concrete reasons to question our agreements, I could raise those directly. Her body was not required to remain visually consistent to spare me the task of doing so.
I closed the imaginary case. Emma kept the new style for a while, then changed it again. This time I managed to notice without appointing myself head of a task force.
