Before I went overseas on deployment, my wife asked what I thought about her getting a tattoo. I gave her an answer that was honest, if unlikely to win any awards for enthusiasm: I really dislike them. I’ve never seen one on a woman that appealed to me.
I also told her I couldn’t control her body. I understood that the decision belonged to her. But she asked how I felt, and I explained how strongly I felt about it. She said she wouldn’t get one.
Then I came home, and there it was, right across her forearm.
After 11 years of marriage, I wouldn’t have expected a tattoo to put this much doubt in my head. Yet I keep returning to that conversation. She knew my feelings, told me she wasn’t going to do it, and went ahead while I was away. I’m struggling with the distance between what she said and what I came home to.
Over the years, we’ve both done things because the other person asked. That has been part of how I understood our marriage: we take each other’s wishes seriously, even when they aren’t wishes we share. Now I’m wondering whether we understood that arrangement differently.
There’s another disappointment sitting alongside this one. This year, I spent far more than I should have on her birthday gift—£1,500. A few weeks later, my own birthday brought nothing but a card she hadn’t written in. I know spending too much was my decision. Still, an unwritten card felt painfully short on thought.
She’s trying to make things up to me. I can see that, but I haven’t shaken the feeling that what I want carries less weight. When I imagine her asking me to do something for her, I can already feel myself pulling back.
That reaction worries me, too. Am I overreacting by questioning things, or am I finally noticing an imbalance? She’s making an effort, and I’m still looking at her forearm, trying to work out what I’m actually upset about.
