So controlling ...

You all know that Wife has long complained about how controlling I am.  For the last few years I have been making a conscious effort to control less and less of what she does -- especially now that she will have to be on her own in the forseeable future.  You might think she would like this.

What I find ironic, though, is that she hates it.  It makes her very nervous.  And so more and more and more she asks me what to do.  What do you want for dinner?  Gosh, Babe, I dunno.  It's your week to cook.  You decide.  When do you want dinner on the table?  I dunno.  Since you're cooking, why don't you tell me?  Yes, but when do you want it?  Really it's up to you ....

Ironic also is that this doesn't stop her from complaining about "having" to do things just so.  This evening, as she was making a salad, she started complaining about how much work it is to make a salad ... because of all the chopping, I guess.

OK, but you're the cook.  You decide on the menu.  Make what you want.

But I know you always want a salad.

Yes, but you're the cook. You decide on the menu. Make what you want.

But if I don't make a salad you'll just look at me like I'm too lazy, and then you'll sulk off to the kitchen and make one yourself.  

Ummm ... I don't think I do those things, but never mind.  Suppose I do.  Isn't that the best outcome, then?  Because that way we both get what we want?  That way I get a salad (if I feel like it) and you don't have to fix it.  What could be better?  

But then you'll be unhappy.  

Maybe or maybe not, but isn't that my problem?  Why do you care?  

Because I only ever cook to make you happy!  God knows, we never have any of the food I like, or that I want to eat!  No, we all have to eat vegetarian because that's what Hosea wants, even though everybody else in the family thinks it's shit!  But we can never have anything else, because you make all the meals be vegetarian!  

But you're the cook. You decide on the menu. Make what you want.   

(It was on the tip of my tongue to point out that if she were really cooking only what I like, she'd use a lot more mushrooms; also that it's a little odd to talk about my preferences versus "everybody else in the family" when the boys are away at school so there are only the two of us. But I figured neither of those would be a useful point just now ....)  

Anyway, I'm not sure what puzzles me more: her desperate pleading for me to tell her what to do (now that I'm not doing it) or her firm conviction that I'm controlling every aspect of her existence even when I refuse to tell her what to do.  Honestly both of them are kind of strange.