Da Man is one of my beta readers because he demands to be one. He used to be a law review editor in law school so he thinks it makes him an editing genius. I was not too keen to hand it over. After all, it took him 6 months to read my first manuscript. Yes, 6 months. When someone you respect takes a long time to read something you wrote, you feel as if you are imposing upon them and that your work is really crappy because they can't make themselves read it. And unlike my beta readers, who I know have busy, hectic lives and I am just grateful for any time that they can devote to reading my work, I can see just exactly what my husband does in his free time. Like endless hours watching cheesy late night cable shows, going fishing, playing soccer, playing basketball, lifting weights, surfing the internet for I don't want to know, going to Sports Authority, talking on the phone way too long, sleeping on the sofa, picking his nose and scratching his ass. But mostly he watches way too much TV. He watches TV so much I think an antenna should start growing out of the top of his head. And everytime I see him watching TV, I think, WHY ISN'T THAT BASTARD READING MY BOOK?!!!!! Yes, it took him 6 months to read my first manuscript. But it was also 100,000 words long. At least this time, my new manuscript is only 52,000 words. Maybe this time he might be a little faster? I was unsure.
But he said he wanted to read it and I really do value his opinion so I gave it over to him, with the caveat that he needed to make it a priority and read it sooner than later. He printed it out and told me he would bring it to the beach and read it over vaca. After all, there would be plenty of downtime at the beach to read. I was hopeful. Well, we got to the beach and LO AND BEHOLD, he forgot his copy of my manuscript at home. Hmmmmm. Mortified and seeing the steam rising from my ears, the thinning of my lips and the reddening of my face, he promised me that as soon as we got home Friday night, he would devote the weekend to reading it. Yes I was disappointed and sad about it. But he promised, again, and I was sure he wouldn't break another promise.
Friday, we spent the whole ride not talking to each other because he is an ASS and got mad over something so trivial that I am too embarrassed to even write about it. he sulked for 3 hours straight, dropped us all off and drove off to sulk some more. He then spent the night watching stupid MTV shows all night long and not once cracking open my manuscript. Saturday night, after noting my Botox-like expression, he picked up the manuscript at 1:30AM and tried to read it. He got about 7 pages in before he crashed for the night. Sunday, he slept til 12, lumped around all day and didn't even try to crack the manuscript open. Monday, I thought for sure he would take it with him to read on the metro ride back and forth from work. But no. It lay abandoned and forlorn, next to the sad little pile of blankets on the floor he must now sleep on. Part of me feels brokenhearted that he has so little care for my creation. Had the roles been reversed, I would stay up all night to read whatever he had written. But he would rather watch Cribs or endless hours of boring fishing shows. Yes, I am a little hurt.
Last night, as he slept, I watched him, oh great love of my life. He likes to sleep with his arm raised over his head, a position of such peaceful repose. I looked down on him, sprawled out on the floor, and think to myself, I'd like to wax his armpits and show him what true pain is all about. His armpit hair is nice and long too. It would really catch the hot wax well. The amount of pain would be excruciating. I tingle with anticipation of his horrendous scream of agony. But wait, is waxing his armpit torturous enough? Who would even know of his shame? Perhaps an eyebrow instead? That may be just as excruciating, but adds the element of humiliation. Yes, his left eyebrow, cause he likes to sleep on his right side. I'll do it from behind, so I can race out of hitting range. Maybe that'll teach him to break another promise.