“I’m sorry our seats are in the balcony. It was all I could get at the last minute,” I said. “It’s warm up here.”
“It’s okay,” Sweetheart replied. “We’re together, and that’s all that matters. I’ve missed our date nights. Traveling all week stinks.”
“You mean flying is for the birds?” I grinned.
“Yes, and I miss our nest,” he smiled and squeezed my hand.
The usher waved us in the direction of our seats. I looked at her quizzically. She checked our tickets. Yes, we were in the right row. Yes, those were our seats. A heavyset couple had to exit into the aisle so we could pass. We all set down. The gentleman made no effort to restrain his ingress upon my seat. I leaned to my right and clung to my husband’s arm to give him as much space as possible. I began, literally and figuratively, to heat up.
The lights dimmed. The orchestra began to play. A very important cell phone conversation continued in front of us. I know it was important because she talked over the orchestra. When hushed by those around her, she began texting very important messages. I fumed. If the matter demands attention, why not leave? Surely she knew her screen blinded us.What happened to common courtesy? I should give an etiquette class on cell phone usage. I flounced in anger. The arm and thigh on my left reminded me to restrain my movements. My temperature continued to rise. Halfway through the first act, an usher finally escorted her out. Even that didn’t impede her texting.
The first act was over. Consumed by irritation, I had seen little of it. Focus on the time you have with Sweetheart. Don’t let others’ bad behavior rob you of pleasure. I sighed and relaxed.
A loud snap and crackle caused me to jump out of my diminished seat. The lady behind me generously shared her noisy treats with people on either side of her. One bag consumed, she opened another and shared it as well. They chomped happily. I was furious. Are you kidding me? This is a play, not a movie. No eating allowed. If you are going to break the rules, at least be sneaky about it. I wanted to blast them. I restrained myself to directing dirty looks behind me.
The second act passed with little notice.
When the lights came up at intermission, I bolted upright. The portly couple rose as quickly to get out of my way. Sweetheart practically ran to catch up with me.
“Honey, you seem upset,” he said. He gently placed his arm around my shoulders. “What is wrong? What can I do?”
I pulled away.
“There is nothing you can do. These people are sucking the joy out of my evening. We paid $50 for each seat. For that amount of money, I expect to utilize my whole seat. I expect others to use good manners and follow the rules. I’m hot and I don’t want to go back inside.”
His face fell. Disappointment replaced concern on his face. He stood quietly. His eyes gently chided me. The anticipated attempt to placate me did not come.
Then it hit me. I have become That Ole’ Lady. My critical spirit sucked the joy out of the evening. My body language stole enjoyment from the lovely couple next to me. My dirty looks stole pleasure from the generous, and evidently hungry, people behind me. Sweetheart who lives to make me happy, found no delight in our time together.
I am the joy stealer.
Proverbs 27:15-16 says, “A nagging spouse is like the drip, drip, drip of a leaky faucet; you can’t turn it off, and you can’t get away from it.” That is not the vision I want my husband to have of me. I can justify my anger, but it does not make me happy. My only choice is to rise above the inconveniences and focus on the good. No one can steal my joy, but I can throw it away.
I made different choices after intermission. The evening was salvaged.
P.S. I don’t believe I stole any joy from the Texter. She was oblivious to everyone.
