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High Maintenance Woman
By S.D. Craig
Published January 2002

Do you consider yourself a high maintenance woman?  I damned well am, and I'm not ashamed to say so.

I used to be more alone married than any single woman I know.  Twenty-plus years spent with men who didn't think maintaining a relationship meant more than working on the dune buggy or mowing the lawn  -- now how the hell am I going to compete with that in my Victoria Secret nothingness nighty?  (Okay, I can cover up with a blanket and go join him outside, yeah, sure).  Been there, done that.

Don't get me wrong.  That doesn't mean I can't be proud watching a man drive around the lawn on his riding lawn mower, now.  Of course I'm proud.  Especially if he didn't have to put the damned thing together, miss out on reading all those directions, and I didn't have to go bring it home for him. 

Relationships aren't about keeping quiet or not blowing up until someone's that dog-gone mad.  They're all about communication and intimacy.  Those special looks across the room at a party that mean "let's get out of here and go home and be alone together."  Or the "I-have-got-to-escape-your-mother" looks.  We connect, we leave.  It works.

High maintenance women need attention, appreciation and affection.  It's a simple fact.  I enjoy receiving phone calls from my husband during the day, or from the bus stop, or from the bathroom (yes, he tried that last night with his new digital cell phone).  I was sitting here at the computer and he called from the john.  What a man.  He knows what I like.

An e-card sent to me or a single flower or special book I wanted, he delivers these things.  I love it when he surprises me with a new teddy (no, men, quit drooling) bear for my collection.  I spend a lot of my time smiling around my man.

Except for the remote controls.  That's the only thing I normally have competition with in this marriage.  The whole kit and caboodle of them.  We have one for the stereo, one for two VCRs and two for our TV sets, and one for the portable CD player (thank God he took that to work).  Six remotes.  It's like trying to explain how we existed before ATM machines, isn't it? 

We also have a universal remote control.  What does this mean?  If I press a button on it, I can control the whole shitload of them at once?  Good grief, but I may be sunk.  If anyone's got that much control, a Virgo panics. 

High maintenance women like me hate remote controls.  We thought we were in control.  Now I think I'm losing it with all these new-fangled technical things. 

Our new digital cell phone instructions told me last night you can make a number in its stored memory secret.  That means a girlfriend's number on your husband's cell phone.  I'm no dummy.  Great.  No, we do not like this.  High maintenance means we demand loving, and a lot of it.  There is no reason (or time) for our man to spread that around.  If our man has spare time, we'd prefer he spend it on us.  And God help any woman who tries to interfere. 

My husband is always saying I'm a kept woman.  But I keep him pretty well, too.  I may not be the best housekeeper or cook in the world, but my man ain't complaining for lack of attention, affection or appreciation, either.  He's never gone hungry or been buried in dirt and dog hair yet.

After decades of being almost ignored in marriages, I am no longer complaining.  I have all I need, a supportive man who dotes on me, and I feel the same about him.  We're both admittedly high maintenance, and we know why our other marriages failed.

That woman didn't give him the remote controls.

About the writer: SD Craig is a freelance writer and editor of LovingYourCurves.com and was given the nickname "Chatterbox" by fellow writers. At age fifty, Craigs Southern flair and sense of humor give her plenty to write about with a rapier wit and a wacky outlook. Her articles on body image (her biggest passion), marriage/divorce and relationships, family, friends, career issues, computers, the Internet, horses, baseball, movie reviews and writing tips remind one of Erma Bombeck or Dave Barry. A freelance writer who once juggled five columns then got real, Craig welcomes your e-mails and feedback on her articles. Drop her a hello at sdcraig922@yahoo.com or stop by www.lovingyourcurves.com.

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