It’s important to me that I’m not a crappy husband.
So, as part of living out that desire, I will ask Courtney how I’m doing. I don’t do this daily or anything; I just ask when I think about it. Often when I’m feeling bugged.
When I ask depends on where we are and how intense the feeling of failure is, but walks are a good time. Walks are sort of like a date night.
So about three months ago I wanted to ask the question, although my motivation was not fully noble. We were finishing up a walk and I had several examples of Courtney communicating her frustration about a specific doorknob to me (and others).
Said doorknob is at the back of the house, on the door we use most often. I think it got damaged in the original renovation. A contractor locked up and had no keys, so we had to sort of break the door to get back in. That worked, but it created a lot of give in said knob. You’d often walk up to the back door and have to turn the knob 40% more than usual because of the slack in the turning mechanism. Doorknob people probably have a word for this.
After All I’ve Done for You . . .
So the walk was finishing up and I had some beef. Sure, the doorknob has been annoying for years but the door opened and closed and the lock mechanism worked. But we had a group of young leaders over to the house for dinner and we were talking about marriage and how we work together as a couple and she threw shade at my not fixing the doorknob. Outed in front of college students. Come on!
So on the walk I needed to know what her deal was.
“Okay, I need to know something.”
“Yeah?”
“I know you care about acts of service, but I need to know what you actually need to feel more loved, because what I’m doing appears to not be working. You’ve brought up the doorknob a lot.”
“I mean, I’d like it fixed, but it’s not THAT big a deal.”
Having been in a season of life where I’m redoubling efforts to be a less crappy husband, I felt the doorknob was a bridge too far.
“Is it not enough that I’ve completely adjusted my life to better support you? And we also just upgraded to a tankless water heater on a closed recirculation loop so the kitchen water won’t take four minutes to heat up.”
She stops and turns toward me. (When she stops on walks, I know I’m in trouble.) Her voice rises.
“Oh, I’m sorry, do I not say ‘Thank you’ enough for what you do? Do you think I’m not grateful? And when have I complained about the temperature of the kitchen water?”
Crap.
“No, you’re right. I’ll fix the doorknob.”
I Already Knew the Answer
Marriages are funny things. On the one hand, they’re the tightest earthly bond God has created. On the other hand, a request to fix a loose doorknob can make you think you’re on the razor’s edge of dismantling every decade you’ve been together.
I asked my question—how could I show you love in a way you’d better receive—with a mix of honesty and dishonesty. You can tell because I added a “Because what I’m doing isn’t enough” tagged onto the end.
Spouses should win Oscars for how they turn the knife—just a little—to try and get their way.
I already knew she wanted the doorknob replaced. I just wanted her to say something else. Actually, I wanted her to say that what I was doing was enough. (You should ask her about the slow drain in the upstairs bathroom that took months, maybe years, to fix, or the hot water handle that stopped working.)
But instead of doing the right thing—the loving thing—I try and make my current approach enough. I don’t want to have to change.
When I’m the Measure of “Acceptable”
I guess it’s sort of important to me that I’m not a crappy husband. The indictment I care about just depends on who is looking. If it’s Courtney, I’m okay being seen as substandard. If others are looking, I want to be seen as exceptional. And others don’t use the back door that often.
The reason I neglect these little home items is not because I can’t change a doorknob. I’m moderately handy. It’s because I didn’t care about the 40% extra turn. “If it isn’t a big deal to me, it shouldn’t be a big deal to you,” I think. I become the measure of the importance of the issue.
And that, as ironic as it is, is actually antithetical to my faith. “Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church . . .” (Eph 5:25a). I pray for Courtney every day. I pray with her every day. I hand her cash when I find it (she does love cash). I make minimal fun of her when she wears the same black fleece (which I bought) every day from October until May. I just don’t want to change a doorknob.
And the doorknob is the actual indictment.
A simple act of service was beyond what I wanted to do.
So I changed the doorknob. Twice, actually.
I bought a fancier doorknob at first and texted a picture to friends we replayed the argument in front of. But I didn’t like the feel of it. I thought it’d annoy Courtney me over time because the way you gripped the knob put your hand too close to the door. So I went out again and bought as close to an exact match of the original I could find.
In June we sat at a dinner and asked each other how we were doing and how we could be better spouses. When it came time for Courtney she said, “You changed the doorknob. You’re great.”
Roughly fifty dollars (two trips) and forty minutes of time (after years of asking).
And I stood in the way of it because . . . I’m selfish.
To the husbands, specifically, what do you know you need to do that you’ve put off because you don’t care enough? And when will you stop putting it off?