The Luv Doc: A Serious Conversation

Dear Luv Doc,

Last Sunday on the way to H-E-B I was telling my husband that I felt sad about the victims of the New Year’s Day attack in New Orleans. I was telling him I couldn’t stop thinking about the girl who was the mother of a 4-year-old and how devastating it must have been for her family. The whole time I was talking he was humming along to some song on the radio and when I asked, “Are you even listening to me?” he said, “Yeah, that’s really sad” and then he asked me if I thought we should get more grapes because “pretty much all the grapes in the fridge were rotten.” I didn’t know what to say. I almost cried. I know I can sometimes be too emotional but he always tries to avoid any serious conversation. Since then I have been wondering if this is the type of person I really want to spend the rest of my life with. I am grateful he isn’t boring or depressing, but I think there might be something seriously wrong with him. I don’t think I have never even seen him cry. He gets upset/sad sometimes, but when he does, he just wants to be left alone. Is this healthy? Am I married to a psychopath?

– Mrs. Brightside

To be fair, I don’t think you provided enough information for me to make a determination as to whether or not your husband is a psycho. To wit: Humming along to what song? That’s a huge deal. If it was something like, “Last Night” by Morgan Wallen, I mean, yeah, fuck that dude. He is a total psychopath. DM me so I can give you the name of a good divorce lawyer. If, however, the song in question was “A Bar Song (Tipsy)” by Shaboozey, well then, I would maybe have to ask you why you couldn’t hold in your emotions for two minutes and fifty-four seconds? That seems like an unsettling lack of self-control.

Look, I am all about people having feelings. Emotions are the dressing on life’s salad, but you can’t just come in and start dumping a bunch of Thousand Island on someone’s Caesar and expect them to jump on board. There is always a time and a place. Well, actually, in regard to the preceding combo, there’s never a time and a place. Not even on Starvation Island. The point is, you get to have emotions, sure, but that doesn’t unilaterally excuse you from reading the room – and I’m saying this as someone who has a huge amount of experience at being a bull in a china shop with regards to other people’s feelings.

I am betting even right now there are a bunch of earnest people gnashing their teeth and rending their garments at my heretofore unexpectedly dismissive response, but guess what? Happy emotions are every bit as valid and valuable as sad emotions. Don’t get me wrong, I am not saying the empathy you’re feeling isn’t valid, it just isn’t necessarily more valid than your husband jamming out to Shaboozey, or Taylor Swift ... or maybe Chappell Roan, because if I’m being real, that “HOT TO GO!” song is fire.

It would be one thing if you were directly affected by that tragedy – if that deceased mother was your sister for instance – but getting wound up about something that happened several hundred miles away in another city to people you don’t even know simply because you read about it on the interwebs or saw it on TV seems a bit voyeuristic – like you’re assuming an emotional burden no one asked you to bear. And before you throw this paper down and decide I am a complete asshole without an ounce of empathy, maybe ask yourself if you demand the same focus when you’re talking about something good that happens to someone. You wouldn’t shame your husband for grieving his dead mother because he didn’t acknowledge your excitement about the Detroit Lions making the playoffs.

Lastly, and most importantly, it probably seems that, like your husband, I completely ignored you and went off on a marginally related tangent. Fair point, but that’s sort of my schtick. That said, I’m sorry. It sucks to not be heard. It sucks to not have your emotions validated. However, remember that axe swings both ways. To quote the great Irish playwright George Bernard Shaw ... yet again ... “Life does not cease to be funny when people die any more than it ceases to be serious when people laugh.” Maybe you married your husband because he doesn’t wallow in the maudlin. That might make him a little neurotic, but it doesn’t make him a psychopath ... as long as you don’t interrupt his jams.