The Real Reasons I Need Him

The Real Reasons I Need HimI’m not- how would you say- a girly girl.  When I met my husband in a bar for the first time, I grilled him over some of the finer points of backhoe operation because I knew a lot of guys who said they could run one but had no clue.  (He DID have a clue, however.  In fact, many more clues than me!)

It’s not that I ever set out to PROVE I didn’t “need” a man, it just never dawned on me that they were handy to have around.  My parents didn’t raise me with “girl” or “boy” roles and my father basically expected me to do everything he could do, from changing my own oil and tires to cutting our own firewood.   When my father wanted me to learn the plumbing trade to take over the family business, I just thought it sounded better than three more years of college.  It was other people who pointed out to me that plumbing was a “man’s job”.

So, when the thought of my husband being gone for six weeks at a time occurred, I wasn’t thinking “but who will take out the trash and mow the grass?”  I did wonder who would be my second set of eyes, ears and hands with our rambunctious boys, though. And who would I sit and chat with?

Three days in to his first hitch, I was working on putting away laundry (a rare occurrence at the time) and as I walked past the kitchen I heard the distinctive clicking of the gas range top igniter.  No one was in the kitchen.  This freaked me out a little since I’d never heard of the igniters coming on by themselves before, so I checked all the knobs and all of them were off.   The clicking wouldn’t stop.  It was wigging me out, man.  Finally I unplugged the freaking thing.  Damnit, Jim, I’m a plumber, not an electrician.  THAT would be hubby’s domain.  Crap.

So I did what any self-respecting plumber would do: I called my husband.  He told me to check the voltage, but otherwise he’d never heard of such a thing.  The voltage was fine.  I went out and bought a box of matches and left the ignition control unplugged.  No more possessed range top.

I -the person who turns the groceries into edible food- am fine with the match arrangement.  OFM, on the other hand is like, “when are you having someone over to fix the range?”  I’m thinking maybe when I run out of matches?  I don’t know.

All in all, I think I’m getting along well without him.  But I must clarify:  not needing him to help me operate my house and car is totally NOT the same thing as not needing him.  I still need him to talk to, to be my best friend, to call me on my bullshit when I’m being a jackwagon, and of course my boys need him.

I think the biggest bummers when he’s gone are that I now have to bring in the firewood. It’s not that I can’t.  It’s that I don’t wanna. The other thing I realized right away is that I just feel SAFE when he’s near.  It’s not that I don’t feel safe in my home, per se, it’s just that I feel like I’m on high-alert.   And ladders.  If there’s a chore that involves a ladder, it ain’t happening till he gets home from his hitch.

About rheanna

Rheanna is a stay-at-home mom to two children. She is a lifetime resident of New Mexico and her Oilfield Man works on the North Slope of Alaska, averaging 4 weeks on and 2 off. In her previous life she was a bookkeeper and boiler technician for her father’s plumbing company. She enjoys hiking, horseback riding, motorsports and pretending not to kill her garden. Cooking is a favorite past time, but unfortunately a lifelong allergy to crafting supplies and a debilitating ineptitude with a glue gun prevent her from spending too much time on Pinterest.

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