By E.J. Gordon
My husband keeps asking me if I’m sleeping with my yoga teacher.
Just to be clear: I’m not. I don’t want to sleep with him; I want to be married to him. Strike that — I don’t think I could live with a man who massages, relaxes and adjusts beautiful women with perfect yoga bodies all day long. The hours suck too. (Oh, and I love my ACTUAL husband.)
So why does my husband keep asking me if I’m sleeping with him? It’s true, I do reference him a lot, as in “David says that we have we have to learn how to relax our muscles in order for them to work better.” And I do go to his classes often. But it’s not that I want to sleep with him — it’s just that I wish my husband treated me like my yoga teacher treats me. Here’s why …
10 Reasons I Wish My Husband Were More Like My Yoga Teacher:
1. He doesn’t care if I’m late. No matter what time I get to class, when I apologize that I’m late, he’ll tell me: “It’s all good; we’re happy you’re here” — which is so much better than when my husband yells at me that we have to go. Or worse, when he starts the car and honks at me, which is, really, the opposite of helpful. All I want from my husband when we’re trying to get all of our children out of the house and get somewhere on time is for him to say, “How can I help you?” That would really be so much better than the honking.
2. If I don’t like his music, he’ll change it and ask me what I want to hear. The other day in yoga, I asked, “What is this music?” with a sneer on my face. My teacher simply said, “What would you like to hear?” However, when I am (always) relegated to the passenger’s seat in our car, if I try to change the radio or complain, I’m told, “I’m driving. I decide.” So when he’s always driving, it’s never my turn. That said, I sort of do understand that my husband and pre-teen son do not want to listen to NPR or the Broadway channel. But still …
3. If I don’t understand something, he CALMLY explains it to me. I’ll ask my teacher each time, “Where is my foot supposed to be again?” and am always greeted with a helpful hand. But at home, if I don’t understand why we have such a high deductible on our health insurance or why we can’t just refinance again so we can have a “free” month, my husband just gets more agitated each time I bring it up.
4. Whenever I walk into his studio, he asks, “What do you want to do today?” or sometimes even, “What’s bothering you today?” Wouldn’t home be amazing if every time I walked in the door, I were greeted like that? But, alas, the last thing my husband wants to hear when I walk in is what’s bothering me. He’s happy just to turn the kids right over to me. As, I suppose, I do with him. In fact, I’m fairly sure there were days when the kids were babies that the second he walked in the door I ran upstairs and locked myself in my room in order to have just a minute to myself.
Which leads me to number five.
5. He tells me to “Be Selfish.” I think the from the second we started trying to get pregnant, I stopped living for me and started living for my potential children. I gave up caffeine and foreign cheese. I gave up binge drinking. And then as the babies came, I gave up my body and my sleep and the last piece of cake. Wouldn’t it be nice if I could just be told at home, even for a few minutes, “Just be selfish.”
6. My yoga teacher will come over while I’m in a position and touch me in a spot and say, “You’re tense here. Relax this muscle.” As a Mom, that’s usually every muscle. At home, I can’t sit down until everything is done at night. I just know that if I sit, I won’t get back up. So I deal with the laundry, and do the dishes and pack the lunches and help with the homework and run the carpools, and frankly I could use someone coming up to me and forcing my jaw and my shoulders to relax, to let go. That would be great foreplay at home (with my husband, not my yoga teacher – just to be clear).
7. He never shakes his head at me in exasperation. If I want to do a headstand, he’ll help me get there. He never tells me I can’t do something, or that I’m too clumsy, or that I inherited the “Shapiro” gene from my Mom’s side of the family, the side that drops plates, bangs their head on open cabinets, and walks into door jams.
8. He cheers me on. If I do something well, he yells, “YES! That’s what I’m talking about!” I mean, how much fun would that have been if while I was nursing my babies, my husband encouraged me with, “YES! You’re AMAZING!” or if while I helped my son find the lowest common denominator my husband yelled out, “YES! YOU’RE BRILLIANT!”
9. The last part of the practice, he gives me a cranial massage and tells me to let myself sleep. I don’t think I’d be given a massage at home unless it were followed by sex. Sometimes you just want the massage.
10. He ends every class telling me that it’s his pleasure to serve me. This one’s self explanatory.
Yes, I know, this is unrealistic. My yoga teacher gets paid to do all of this and the better he does it, the more clients he has. My husband gets nothing from me but what he’s gotten for the past 15 years, and I’m sure that’s less and less motivating with every year that goes by. And honestly, if my husband really did live to serve me, he’ d probably bore the shit out of me after a few weeks, and I’d end up walking all over him, but I wouldn’t mind it for even a few days …
Lisa Barr, Editor of GIRLilla Warfare: E.J. Gordon is a freelance writer, a regular contributor to GIRLillaWarfare, and “Sexpert”. Have any questions or topics that you would like her to address? Remember: No subject is taboo, and Anonymity is accepted. Contact E.J. at: EJGordon529@gmail.com.