Saying No

Katz said no to me yesterday and I was mad all day.

Here's how it went:

I wanted him to do something I felt was important but I knew he wouldn't be entirely comfortable doing. It was a parenting thing and he's very much a let's-not-do-anything-unless-it's-a-crisis sort of parent, where I'm more of a we-can-make-our-adult-children's-lives-much-better-by-sharing-our-wisdom sort of parent, so this is not the first time I've asked, he's said "no," and I've been mad.

Still, I've learned to pick and choose what I ask for, so even before I opened my mouth, I thought the conversation through carefully and tried to choose an opportune time. Besides my best efforts, he still said no.

Now, I'm not a prima donna; I don't need to always hear yes. And I went into this conversation knowing it was an iffy proposition, so I even saw it coming. I expected no and I would have accepted no. The problem is that "No" isn't a literal translation of our conversation.

Katz listened to the question, muttered something not very nice that included the words "nose out of it" and then got quiet.

"I know, I know," I said. "You don't want to, right?" I asked.

"I'll think about it."

And that's when I got mad.

Now, to be fair, Katz is a near-perfect husband. We don't agree on everything but we rarely fight. However, when we do, it's most often due to "a failure to communicate," so this is a historical problem for us. Katz is funny, good hearted, a great husband and father, and he COMMUNICATES for a living, so my question is, how come he just can't say no? Better yet, how come he can't figure out a way to say no and still make me feel okay about being turned down.

In my imagination, I can deal with the perfect rejection. All I need is a kind voice, the understanding that I'm not a lunatic for making my request, and a non-defensive, soft spoken explanation that he's just not comfortable in the role I want him to play. I get that! I understand that!

What I don't understand is why--when he knows that "I'll think about it" means "no" and he's darn sure he's done all the thinking about it he needs to and will never change his mind and will never revisit the conversation again if it's up to him--he can't just say no and put me out of my misery.

Of course, the fact that I'm finishing this posting on Wednesday and I've been quietly mad at him since Sunday morning reveals that I have my own communication issues. Katz knows I'm unhappy and, to his credit, I know that makes him unhappy, too, but instead of dealing with it, he's walking around on eggshells.

Writing and the passage of a few days have dampened my anger, and at least on my end, we're getting close to detente. But oh how easy, oh how sweet it would have been, if he only would have said "no" instead of "I'll think about it."