When I decided to get married to KP, there were few things I didn't expect from him. From the start itself, I knew him well - his serious looks, shy smile and 'yes' nature. But with time, he is beginning to get a little fussy, in a good way.
For one, he hates seeing the lazy me. Goodness, the moment he enters the house (if we are earlier than him), he knows how to announce his arrival. My sister's folly that she leaked my childhood nickname and now KP is so fond of calling me by that. So there he enters the house screaming for me. (If we had a son, I know how he will be :)) I often wonder if he sees me as a motherly-figure when back from school???
And he equally hates seeing me busy. For the busy bee I am, I can't sit idle for even a minute, lest that I bury in the bed and drift off to a happy sleep (which he won't allow at any cost). There he complains that I tire myself too much. Does he want me to sit with the remote control in my hand, watching TV whole day long?
Come to clothes and I am so wary of his likes and dislikes. How can I forget this incident! I had worn a tight pair of cotton jeans (while we were still in the 'dating phase') and the entire evening, KP kept a huge vigil on who was looking at what! Even today, he has the same vigilance. When we go out, he keeps a strong eye on what I wear and unless I pass his criteria, he won't budge from the house!
Also the gifts he showers me with. "Learn to pamper yourself," he would justify. I try telling him that materialism is one of the last necessities in my life but he knows I compromise and sacrifice. He reads me pretty well.
Foods? Thank God, I do cooking most of the time. If he is in the kitchen, he cooks for a mass and insists we eat until we burst. His biggest complain comes from my NOT eating adequately. I defend if I am not known to the capacity of my own tummy. (In a way, our dialogues are so obsolete and same, but we are not tired of them as yet...a long way to go!).
The best part is when we fuss (thankfully, this is not anymore a regular scene!). I end up bursting every time, swearing hard that I would never talk to him. He is temperamental, he will go high on graph and gradually melt away, whereas I take hours to come out of the blues. In his sober state, he is always there to cajole me but I hate this comment, "Stop acting like a kid."
A kid I am with him. He is the mature man, the ideologist. But when I rate him, I qualify him for a fussy Hubby. Only last night, I said I am "enough" with his rules and regulations and he reverted back across the door, "I am enough enough with yours." Our conversation won't end here anyway.