I may have given a negative impression of my wife. I worry I have, unintentionally, painted her as a nagging partner who uses phrases like “death machine” when referring to motorcycles and stands stubbornly between myself and happiness. If I have, it’s not correct. That is not the woman I married, not the woman I wake up to each morning.
I am mad for her, my wife. I have never found someone with whom I fit so perfectly –– physically and emotionally. She wraps easily into my arms, is perfect there. And when I slip into dark moods, which I do far too often, she gives only love, support and encouragement.
Jenn and I were married in November, and together for two years before that. The night we first met I talked mindlessly for hours, until the pub kicked us out, filling the air with noise in hopes it would prevent us having to say goodbye. When I got home, I fired off an email to several friends back in the United States bragging about this girl I had met.
We clicked so perfectly that first night we saw each other again the next night, then again and again and again. Since then, we have spent few days apart. But even now she makes my heart jump. She makes me feel alive, makes me want to live. Every cliché you can think about love and affection is what I feel for her.
True, she hasn’t been fully supportive of my motorcycle obsession. If she’s not choosing her words she can be severe. She has said I am selfish, that a motorcycle is a luxury. Recently, we had something bordering on an argument over the whole issue and it felt I was up against something deeply emotional, from that place in the mind/heart that reason cannot easily touch. Sometimes we just feel things so powerfully.
In some way I cannot quite understand nor answer to, I think she fears a motorcycle will result in the loss of me. Not so much that I will be injured or killed, but that my personality will alter. And whereas I have always been attentive and hopelessly in love with her, a motorcycle will somehow change me into a person who disconnects and only shows up for meals.
She fears that if I have a motorcycle I will suddenly decide: “Well, I have my way of getting around. I can do what I want and everyone else can sort themselves out or disappear.”
I am not that way, will not be that way. In fact, it kills me so much to upset Jenn I sometimes think about abandoning my pursuit of a motorcycle. The other day, as we half-argued, I felt an urge to produce my motorcycle helmet (of which she is still unaware) and smash it up with a hammer. I wanted to destroy my own ambition for the sake of keeping her from being upset at me.
Had I done such a thing, she would have lost it. She loves me and wants me to be happy; she would never tolerate my doing such a thing. And to that end I feel that, eventually, she will ease to the idea. I just need to be calmer in approaching things than I have been. Perhaps, before long, the issue will be so unimportant neither of us will remember it having existed.