He gets within 6-8 inches of my face in the morning and wants to talk or give a lingering kiss … despite 24+ years of being asked almost daily not to do that. My morning breath bothers me until I get my teeth brushed. His morning breath bothers me too, even after he brushes.
But he “forgets” that I don’t like him getting up RIGHT IN my face first thing in the morning. Or he will do it anyway and say, with a slow, wide magnanimous smile that he doesn’t mind, or he doesn’t care.
But I mind. I care.
And apparently what I want doesn’t matter, as long as he gets to do what he wants. What he thinks of his actions toward me is more important to him than how his actions affect me.
The sheer fucking scope of his sense of entitlement makes me want to headbutt him some mornings. But I always either sigh and kiss him or cover my mouth while asking him to back up.
Because what I want? Doesn’t matter. Not as long as he gets to fondly gaze at himself and see a “romantic” man.