I’ve occasionally written about how maddening it is to have a husband who is oblivious to things like dirt. Or ants. Or a rat under the house.
This seems to be a common theme among women. Partner doesn’t notice the things that need to be done, which enables partner to avoid doing the things. This move is often referred to as “weaponized incompetence,” although I like the rebrand of “strategic laziness” better. Or maybe “strategic blindness,” which often pairs with “selective hearing.”
It’s frustrating when you’re the person who notices anything out of place—and you can’t do anything about it because you’re injured.
Me: “If the tendonosis in my arm and my knee injuries didn’t hurt so much today, I could have vacuumed up all the dead ants in the bathroom.”
Andy: “There are dead ants in the bathroom?”
Me: “Yes. Cuz we sprayed?”
Andy: “Really? I didn’t see any.”
Me: “You literally had to step over them to take your shower.”
Exhibit A:
I can never decide why so many men don’t see the things that need to be done. Did male and female brains evolve differently, perhaps because only the observant mothers in the jungle who noticed the poisonous creature had surviving offspring? Or is it societal, where the patriarchy only punishes women for not cleaning up messes?
And do men not notice all details, or are they unconsciously—or possibly VERY CONSCIOUSLY—selective?
I’d like to say they are selectively obtuse, but my hair stylist once cut off more than 12 inches of my hair; Andy didn’t notice until all our friends complimented my new look.
More recently, there was our clock:
For one of our anniversaries, I gave Andy a crystal and mirrored glass clock. It sat on our sideboard, where we could see it while watching TV or hanging out in the living room. It was invaluable when counting down to bedtime or calculating our son Dalton’s various pick up/drop off times for school, sports, and all other activities.
I looked at that clock multiple times a day for nearly a decade. I figured Andy did, too. Especially since the cat liked to knock it over with a loud THUNK when she was hungry. (The cat was always hungry.)
Recently the clock stopped working consistently (possibly due to years of thunking). Sometimes it would keep time after I changed the battery. Sometimes it wouldn’t. I pointed this out to Andy, saying, “Honey, the clock is having issues. If only there was, I dunno, an engineer who could look at it.”
Andy did not take that hint, nor any of the others I dropped over the next month. I gave up and found another clock online on sale—this one twice as big and three times heavier. It arrived while Andy was at work. I set it up, put the old clock in the garage, and waited for him to notice.
The cat noticed right away. There was angry tail lashing when the new clock proved unthunkable, but cat moved on (i.e., attacked a nearby picture).
It’s been weeks since I replaced the old clock.
The new clock works.
Our framed photo of Dalton is now battered and covered in feline teeth marks, but the new clock has yet to be knocked over.
And Andy?
He still hasn’t noticed.
Update: Andy read my post and insists that he “noticed the clock last week and just didn’t say anything.”
To which I respond, “Okay, Jan.”