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And then he put his head back down.
Who My Husband Actually Is
I want to be fair about this, because it’s going to matter.
Ryan was not cruel. He was not entirely selfish, either.
He loved us. He was funny. He was a good father at bath time and a genuinely excellent one on the rare occasions a board game was involved.
He simply thought of effort as a kind of currency — something best spent where there was a visible return.
He’d help a neighbor move a couch if the neighbor was somebody useful. He’d grill at a party if the right people were watching. He’d bring me flowers on Valentine’s Day because everybody at his office talked about what they’d done for Valentine’s Day.
But carry the cooler from the car on a Tuesday? Nobody’s watching on a Tuesday.
