Wig Out

Following the recent haircut, the old husband - we've been together since the eighties - has a new-found interest in me. It is the new year, so initially I thought he'd made a resolution: pay more attention to Lucy. He has never been big on flattery or commenting on my appearance. This was a good thing, most of the time. As the years went by, however, I began to wish that on occasion he'd notice, just a bit.

Once we went out to dinner with my best friend, Chrystal, and her old college friend, Ted, a guy from Maine. I had plastered on the make-up and added the long earrings in an effort to dress myself up. At dinner, Ted bluntly referred to me as "beautiful," and said he'd date me, if I weren't married. The husband made nary a sound. I hardly think he noticed. Maybe he was admiring the artwork or picking his teeth. I dunno.

Other times, when I'm dressed up, or the bags under my eyes are a little less blue, I'll tell him "I look good today." He might look up from the paper - I am not making this up - and nod, or jokingly smile, and say "really?" We are actually quite happy together, but his indifference to the superficial is somewhat humbling on occasion. I know it's shallow, but I'm not living in a cave here! It's especially grim on those days when I look like a Nyquil ad - snuffling around the house with red-rimmed nostrils - and he inevitably says "lookin' good, babe." Aaarg. Who gives a shit what one's partner thinks about one's face, anyway? I do, okay? I can't help it - it's like eating meat. I don't need it constantly, but on occasion, it's uniquely tasty.

Chrystal's theory is that I am suddenly desirable because of the Gloria Wig Effect. Remember? The episode on "All in the Family" when Meathead, aka Rob Reiner, gets all heated because Gloria (Sally Struthers) dons a brunette wig? She thinks it'll be fun, and then as they begin to make out and flail all over the bedcover, she pulls off the wig and places it next to the bed. He's like "no, baby, put it back on," and she puts it back on a few times for him. Suddenly she realizes that he's all gaga because he's fantasizing about banging another woman. She screams and rants and leaves, sobbing as she tells him he's cheating on her with the wig. He loves the wig more than his own beloved blonde wife!

Okay, perhaps the husband, my husband, does not have full-fledged GWE (Gloria's Wig Effect), but I am still suspicious. He refuses to tell me which of his friends may have tipped him off that despite how hard we work during the week, treating me like a benign roommate isn't altogether satisfactory, in the long run. Maybe he had an epiphany: my wife is a phenomenal human being. No! My wife is more attractive than ever. Maybe: my wife is more interested in the goddamn computer than me, so I better grab her tit before she completely loses interest. Hmmm.