Cold-Hearted B!#ch

For the past few years, I've volunteered to set up the annual art show display for my daughter's preschool. The first time I did it, I had no idea what I was doing. It took me hours and hours to get the artwork up on the library walls, but I still ended up affixing them so lamely that all the little snowmen the toddlers had created began popping off the walls during a magic show at the library the next day. As a blizzard of snowmen fell on the poor magician's head, I broke down in tears. I was mortified and exhausted. It took me yet more hours to put the artwork back up. I cried more.

Well, it's art show time again. I joked to my husband, "I hope I'm not reduced to tears again this year!" His response was something like, "Really? You actually cried? Something got through to that cold heart of yours?" Did I really just hear my husband of almost nine years call me a cold-hearted bitch?

cold-hearted (KOHLD-HAR-tid) adj. lacking sympathy or warmth; indifferent; unkind

Paula Abdul sang about a cold-hearted snake in 1989.



My husband is one of the nicest people you'll ever meet. He wasn't trying to be mean, he meant it as joke. But you know how they say all jokes have an element of truth to them?

I was shocked. And a little offended. Did I show it? Of course not, because us cold-hearted bitches don't show emotion. I just laughed, said "Ha. Yeah," and changed the subject.

But just because we CHBs don't wear our hearts on our sleeves doesn't mean we don't feel stuff. So, yes, I was a little hurt. But just a little, because, eh, it's not as if I don't know I can be cold. My dear hubby isn't the first person to point this out to me. But am I actually cold inside? Sappy commercials make me cry, so I'd say no. However, I'm definitely less emotional than the majority of women I know (and a big chunk of the men, too).

But whether I'm really cold inside or that's just the way I come across is irrelevant. Because if others perceive me that way, then for all intents and purposes I'm a CHB.

And you know what? I'm fine with it. Instead of feeling hurt when someone snubs me, I get angry (sometimes I also get even). If my husband were to forget our anniversary (hasn't happened yet), I'd be all, "Whatever." Do I pout if I don't get romantically wined and dined on Valentine's Day? Ugh, no, I'll pass, thanks.

It's true I'm not the warmest person on Earth. Yes, I've been known to offend people with my lack of sensitivity. But it's not like I do it on purpose. I'm not a mean person. I'm friendly (okay, friendly-ish) and caring. I love my family and am loyal. I try really hard to be a good friend, and I think I succeed more often than not. I'm an affectionate mother and tell my kids I love them at least five times a day.

But sometimes, my reactions and responses can, I guess, leave something to be desired in the warmth and sympathy departments.

Do I wish I was a warmer and fuzzier person? I guess. But I don't think I can change it. I have tried...but often I just don't see what other people see. Instead of seeing a person aching for a little sympathy, I see a whiner. Instead of seeing someone who is overwhelmed, I see someone who isn't trying hard enough. Instead of viewing "The Notebook" as romantic, heart-warming entertainment, I consider it torturous drivel.

Have I offended anyone? I certainly hope not. But if I have?

Eh, I'll survive.