Feminine 101

If you’ve been married for more than five minutes, you’ve probably realized that you and your spouse are worlds apart in some aspects. He will take the most bizarre route to reach the same conclusion as you. And the means by which he does so are just as foreign. Even his logical assertions are likely not the ones you would have used. A few years of marriage have probably revealed some startling differences in your needs, as well. They certainly did for me. 

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When I was a child, I went to a small summer camp. My grandparents, then in their seventies, were the cooks. Anytime they weren’t working in the kitchen, you could count on them walking the grounds hand in hand. They were bearing down on fifty years of marriage and still walked around like newly-weds. 

By the same token, my father made a point of shamelessly ogling my mother for all of my childhood. I remember going to dinner with my parents after church when I was in highschool. My brother and I had a friend along. My mother was wearing this pink sweater with a band of designs across the chest. There were a couple of well-placed–or unfortunately-placed depending on who you ask– apples on each side of her chest. At one point, my father declared, “I like those apples.” My brother and I, accustomed to his flirting burst out laughing, but our friend was new to it. I’m not sure he could have turned a deeper shade of scarlet. 

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It’s possible by now that you, dear reader, have guessed that I’m an extrovert. I wear my feelings out there and have no problem sharing my opinions. I’m hard to embarrass and sometimes get a kick out of embarrassing others, especially my children. So, when I say that public displays of affection come very naturally, you can probably guess where this is going. 

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When we were first married, I had no problem whatsoever groping Mr. Right’s backside in the store, or kissing him in a parking lot. I was, I am completely attracted to him and I don’t care who knows it. Why should I be ashamed for thinking my husband is hotter than the fires of hell? Now, my husband’s experience is different. His family is more reserved than mine. His mother is embarrassed when she walks in on us smooching in the kitchen. I don’t think I’ve ever seen his parents do more than hold hands and that rarely. PDA is not his thing. And, on more than one occasion, he’s wryly told me to knock it off because there are people around. 

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One might imagine that such different approaches took time to meld and that one would be correct. I wanted that hand-holding, that shameless ogling. I wanted him to want it, too. But, if we held hands in public, it was I who initiated. If I was too forward in public, he’d shut me down. It began to feel somewhat one-sided. Now, in the scheme of things, it matters very little whether he holds my hand in public or not. And I finally came to the realization that I either needed to ask him or let it go. If I did not pick one, it would foster resentment towards him of which he is entirely unaware and defenseless. That is not fair or useful. I let it go. 

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You see, it occurred to me that I had not married myself. He married me. He married the extrovert who shamelessly leers at him in public and slips her hand over his butt almost every chance she gets. I married the rock-solid, reserved individual. I need that man. He needs the extrovert who’s all over him. If our union is a call of God, then I must believe that God knew my openness with regards to affection would do Mr. Right some good. Conversely, his restraint tempers me in a variety of ways. 

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We see this in other ways, too. One night I went to bed. Mr. Right asked me how I was. I sighed and admitted, “I’ve been feeling off all day. It feels like I’m doing everything wrong, like I’m doing a lousy job at every turn.” 

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He put his arms around me and after holding me a bit declared, “I don’t know what you think you’re failing at. But I see that what you do, you do with excellence.”

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I was hoping for flattery,–you’re so beautiful and intelligent and wonderful– but I should have known better. I did not marry the kind of man who tosses empty platitudes and flattery about. Indeed, when I actually thought about what he said and considered that it was him saying it, I realized just how high of praise that was. So I did two things. First, I was thankful for his great faith in me. Really, I’ve come to believe that he does in fact see me in that Proverbs 31 woman.  And second, I filed his compliment away knowing that, if I were to give him such a compliment, it would mean a great deal to him. It won’t even be hard, because he applies himself to new challenges all the time and genuinely does them with excellence. 

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The needs of a woman and a man are worlds apart and, yet, not so different. We tend to speak different languages even when we’re saying the same things. It can be tempting to let this frustrate you, but practice hearing better. Have grace toward one another and recognize that sometimes we’re taking different routes to the same end. 

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We were building a temporary corral out of mobile livestock panels. Every time we went to turn them upright, we went opposite ways. Until you realize that we’re facing each other and we were both actually flipping them the same way. It is not an irreconcilable difference, but a difference in needs and in means. Our goals are aligned and our needs are not so different. The means we take to meet one another’s needs ought to be recognized for what they are, rather than criticized for what they are not. Just because he takes a different approach to encourage me should not mean that I get mad because it’s not what I wanted him to do. Just because he’s not showering me with public displays of affection all the time, does not mean he isn’t crazy about me. That’s silly because I know better. 

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The other side of that coin is that he does not have the same needs as you. And the means by which you meet his needs are going to be different. Appreciate that, while he sometimes doesn’t know how best to convey his love for you and meet your needs, he is likely trying in a way that makes sense to him. Endeavor to show him you love him and respect in ways that speak to him. If you’re feeling down, being surprised with flowers or chocolates and a sweet poem does wonders! But if he’s stressed or down, well, it takes something else to pick him up.

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So how does this look now? After years of melding, I still grope him in public. However, thanks to his influence, I usually at least try to make sure no one is watching. And, because I’m a bad influence, he now does the same. As for holding hands? That’s another conversation.

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