(This is another in the Why You Should Never Live With… series. Unreliable Narrator here. Chick-Lit Heroine here. Cop From A Crime Novel here. Young Adult Protagonist here. Literary Fiction Hero here. Romantic Hero here. Historical Fiction Hero here.)
Embed from Getty ImagesIt’s morning. You turn over in bed, sunshine streaming through your tasteful curtains and hitting the antique crocheted bedspread which was made by your grandmother, who was a bit of a wild child in her day, before you knew her as the loving old lady who taught you that hope was eternal, despite the fact that she had buried two husbands and single-handedly brought the family jam-making empire through some war or other.
The bedroom door opens. Women’s Fiction Husband enters the room, carrying a breakfast tray.
Women’s Fiction Husband: Morning, love. How are you?
You: [yawning] Yeah, grand, thanks.
WFH: Really?
You: Huh?
WFH: I mean, how are you really? You were tossing and turning in your sleep. Is everything all right with you? Go ahead, I’m listening.
You: [rubbing your eyes] Dude, I have literally just woken up. I haven’t a thought in my head right now.
WFH: Okay. I just wanted you to know I’m here for you.
You: I know. I know this, because we live in the same house.
WFH: By the way, I did all your laundry and made you a four-course breakfast and cleaned the entire kitchen afterwards. Did I mention I love you?
You: What the hell is going on with you?
WFH: What do you mean? Can’t a man do something nice for his wife?
You: After yesterday?
WFH: Why, what happened yesterday?
You: You left such a mess in the kitchen I was cleaning up for three hours. I don’t know how you managed it, when all you made was a cup of coffee. You didn’t return any of my calls during the day, and when you came home, you were surly and monosyllabic, refusing to tell me what was wrong. You shouted at me when I asked you to help with the washing up. An hour later, I discovered our house had been remortgaged, and we were bankrupt.
WFH: That’s true. I’m afraid I’m so stressed out over my non-specific job that I forget myself. I’m very ashamed of my awful behaviour and I’m sorry.
You: Oh my God, who even apologises like that?
WFH: Why, what’s wrong with it?
You: [sitting up angrily] It makes me feel like I haven’t even won the argument. You’re so hang-dog, it’s a hollow victory. I want you to fight back, damn it!
WFH: But I can’t. Not when what I did was so abjectly awful. I don’t know how you can forgive me, my behaviour has been so dreadful.
You: Jesus Christ.
WFH: You know, I’ve been seeing a therapist, and she says everything I do is very meaningful. Even the way I go to the toilet. Apparently it’s all down to my difficult relationship with my mother. I’m sorry for taking it out on you.
You: Sometimes I feel like I’m having conversations with you in my own head. It’s like I scripted them, and you’re not real at all.
WFH: I know the feeling.
You: That’s more like it!
WFH: No, I meant I know the feeling, because I empathise so completely and utterly with you. You are so wise and beautiful. I’m sorry I couldn’t see that yesterday.
You: You’re wrecking my head.
WFH: I’m sorry for that too.
You: Why can’t you be like the other guys?
WFH: Which other guys?
You: Other husbands we know. Those guys.
WFH: I don’t understand. I mean, I understand you, but I don’t understand these other men you’re speaking of. They’re beyond my understanding. Come to think of it, a lot of men are. I don’t even like football, and I hate going to the pub.
You: You know, lots of husbands do things which don’t mean anything at all. Like, they come home and just sit on the couch and scratch their backsides with vaguely content expressions on their faces. Sometimes they say things which have absolutely no bearing on the conversation up until that point. They tell a joke, or are narky, and it doesn’t mean anything. Does everything you do have to mean something?
WFH: I wonder the same myself. It’s a bit exhausting, responding to everything.
You: You could try being more spontaneous.
WFH: You mean by not answering every question you ask me in full, that sort of thing? Especially if it’s a five-part question the length of a full paragraph?
You: Yeah. But also, it might be nice to have some sort of happy medium between you not talking to me at all, and telling me every single thing that’s on your mind.
WFH: [sitting on the bed] Can I make a suggestion?
You: Sure.
WFH: Could you maybe stop suspecting me of having an affair every time I’m a couple of hours late home from work?
You: Are you having an affair?
WFH: No.
You: Okay, then. But to be fair, if everything you did was a bit less pointed I might become less suspicious in general.
WFH: [taking your hand in his] That would be great. Only if it’s okay with you, obviously.
You: You’re doing it again.
WFH: Sorry. I don’t mean to.
You: You’re literally the first person in fiction who didn’t mean to be meaningful.
WFH: I know. Between that and my non-specific job, it’s a wonder I don’t collapse under the stress.
You: Just be grateful you’re not the female protagonist in a literary fiction novel written by a man.
WFH: Why’s that?
You: Because then you’d REALLY have problems.
WFH: That is so true, oh wise and wondrous wife.
You: It’s the way I tell ’em. I know.
**********************************
Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m off to find somebody realistically annoying to talk to. It might keep me young…
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Haha! I’m the first to like this but I’m sure I won’t be the last. Jeez, he was exhausting! I can’t imagine a whole book (or a life) with someone like that 😀
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To be honest Helen I’m being a bit hard on him, I haven’t read a whole book with someone like that either. They do pop their heads up in various different chapters from time to time, though 😉
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Reblogged this on Anita Dawes & Jaye Marie.
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Of course, this is just fiction, isn’t it? There are no husbands like this, some pretty bad ones I have found in my travels, but this one would drive me to murder…
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The poor man! He’s trying so very hard! And so very trying, it must be said…
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oh, all of that!
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Annoying men? Surely not?
Enjoyed reading that, thanks!
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You’re welcome, Steve. Glad you enjoyed it. Women’s Fiction Husband thanks you too. He’s conscientious like that.
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Ha ha ha. He wouldn’t last five seconds with any of the husbands I put in The Accidental Wife, they would eat him without salt . So aggravating. In fact, quite a few of the women in The Accidental Wife would also cripple him!
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It would be like kicking a starving puppy, Orla. The cruelty!
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Brilliantly written.
Once upon a time I lived with this man. Every line above mirrors our life together–I laugh now in reflection but see how it was a horror story, far from a realistic romance! Thanks for the great read.
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You lived with this man, Estella?! Good grief. I thought I made him up. You have my sympathies. Let me know if you need a trigger warning 😉
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Frighteningly, nearly every line you wrote was my life with that man. Fell in love with Mr. Darcy, ended up living with Freddy Krueger. Hilarious.
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Wow. I don’t know about you, but I definitely see a book in that!
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Nice. Annoying, but nice! Can you do, ‘why you shouldn’t live with the brooding millionaire playboy’ next 😃
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Already done Jessica! You’ll find him here under Why You Should Never Live With A Romantic Hero…
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🤗 I’m heading over there right now!
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Reblogged this on Miluramalho’s Blog.
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The moral in is is, be careful what you wish for!🤣
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Or else I’ll write about it. Right? 😛
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The trouble is…if we write about husbands as they actually *are*, readers would put the book down in their droves. muttering ‘I have to LIVE with a bum-scratching, mysogynist-joke making, romote-hogging, channel-hopping, kitchen-exploding idiot, I don’t want to READ about them as well!’
It’s a tough call. Do we write about the men that women wish they had? Or the ones they’ve got? Most of us try to tread the middle ground…
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They might mutter that, Jane. Or they might think, “Good grief. She has one of those as well? I wonder what she’s going to do with him? This could be interesting…” 😉
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ha! This made me chuckle.
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That’s why I’m here, Elizabeth 😉
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So, if I understand you correctly… whenever I start an argument over what time it is, or get huffy when she reminds me about that chore I promised to do by five PM (a month ago), or disagree about politics or religion in a substantive way… I’m actually doing my lovely wife a favor? OK, so then does frowning and throwing up her hands mean she loves me? ‘Cause I’m doing a great job if that’s all true.
And if it isn’t, I might be sorry, but I’m sure not going to repeat myself to YOU. I have a limited supply of those and I need to save ’em up for, well I’m just saving them and never you mind for who. Or why.
Also, I’d be very happy if my job was less specific. I’d just like to put that on the record.
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Perhaps we could have a competition to give you the most non-specific job title we can muster, Will. Sounds right up the street of those of us hanging around this blog! And I accept no responsibility for ideas taken from this blog to your lovely wife. You know I have more respect for her than that.
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Reblogged this on Jan Hawke INKorporated and commented:
I needed a good laugh – Tara does the job again! 😀
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It’s what I live for Jan 😀
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Phew! What a relief! I almost thought the heading meant literally what it said. 😀 Well,… I suppose the men can never win with women. They are good, we lament, they are bad, we moan.
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Oh, I don’t know. I guess I’m just a sucker for a bit of spontenaeity!
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I’m starting to think I haven’t read a woman’s fiction novel with a husband. Or maybe this doesn’t seem odd because I want one (for a few days). Just to cook and get the house in order. Wash a few windows, stain the deck, and tenderly rub my feet for two hours. Fun post, Tara, as usual. 😀
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Ah yes, Diana, but what then will you DO with him? He doesn’t just leave, you know. He sticks around to cause havoc another day. It’s either one or the other with him, I’m afraid.
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No problem. I’ll just write him out of the story 🙂
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I’m so glad this man never walked into my life……..
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Or rode in on a motorcycle, before swapping it a bit too soon for a sensible beige family car…
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Gag! 😖 He’s utterly horrible. Hilarious as always though.
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Poor guy just can’t catch a break!
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Just need one who is house trained, can cook, clean, computer whizz, walking thesaurus and eager virtual assistant. Not asking much right?
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Not at all, Lucinda. It’s easy. You just write him into existence, and then try not to scream.
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HAHAAA, so good, my Tuesday tonic. Speaking of which, I don’t know what happened yesterday but your post didn’t arrive as expected in my e-mail inbox, Was starting to worry about you as you didn’t post last week (!) – I’m sure I’m not the only one who looks forward to reading your posts. 🙂
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You’re not the first one to say that to me, actually… I think sometimes the e-mail subscriptions get tired and have to lie down for a while, or something! You might have to re-subscribe. Which is a pain, I know. But I’ll try to make it worth it. You’re very kind to say you look forward to it. I might be a little more sporadic with posting over the next few months as I try to get a few projects to completion but I promise I’m not going anywhere 😉
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Good to know, thanks and good luck with those projects, I’ll have a look at the re-subscribe.
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You’re a star! Thank you 😀
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Reblogged this on Liberty On the Lighter Side and commented:
Tara Sparling is my Tuesday tonic, when it comes to book blogging, she’s one of the best -so clever, so witty -so read it!
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Thanks so much for the re-blog!
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You’re very welcome!
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Reading this, I’m chuckling. I’m also sitting on my couch with a vaguely content expression on my face. The cat probably thinks I’ve had a stroke, but that’s okay.
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You’re lucky the cat even cares, Nick. Other cats would be filming you and thinking of your YouTube potential.
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Ha ha ha ha ;D
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