I tease my sister and my wife every opportunity I get about what I like to call their barbiehouse affliction. They laugh and tell me to bugger off, but it’s pretty obvious that neither of them have any intention of amending the behaviour. I’m not sure if affliction is the right word to describe what I’m talking about, so I’ll go into a bit more detail.
The condition has two aspects to it in my estimation. The first is very common and also very evident. It’s a proclivity for living a Ben Franklin quote. Namely, a place for everything and everything in it’s place. This isn’t a terrible idea by the way. It’s a human instinct that most of us possess to one degree or another. A method to manage chaos and infuse order into an environment. The end result is order that satisfies, and that satisfaction creates something close to serenity.
There are advantages to this condition. For starters it’s easier to find shit because you know exactly where it is at all times, and I think that being able to locate an item comes in handy if immediacy enters the picture. Looking for a first aid kit or a fire extinguisher for example. Even without a blaze or bleeding, I’ll also admit that looking for something is only entertaining if you’re on a treasure hunt. So there’s value in having a pretty good idea where you left your keys or wallet or even your damn phone.
However.
It seems to me that eventually, or perhaps inevitably, the desire for perpetual order becomes all consuming. Almost manic, where a desire for a preferred structure of an environment evolves into a requirement. A situation where the barbiehouse person can’t relax or concentrate on anything else until the out of place item is returned to it’s appropriate location.
I’m ok with in the general vicinity, but my wife and sister most certainly are not. In fact I think it pisses my wife off more if I return something close to it’s assigned place. In the neighborhood isn’t good enough, and I think she thinks that adjacency means I know where it goes, and I’m just fucking with her head. I’m not. but I can see how she’d think that.
So I’m sort of an agent of chaos let loose in their barbiehouse. A Ken who never returns the little furniture pieces to there desired locations. I sort of try, but to be honest I don’t have the same passion for harmony they do, and I don’t find perpetual furniture consistency a necessity. Hell, back in the day if my wife was working and I had a day off, I used to move the furniture just because I wanted a new look to the house.
I thought I showed some talent with an altered decor, but a couple of reactions later and I don’t do that anymore. The funny thing about it was that she wasn’t strong enough to move everything back by herself, and so if I refused to help her then eventually she’d get used to the new setup. Then if a year later I moved all the stuff back to it’s previous location she would be as equally pissed as the first time I moved the sectional.
So maybe part of the syndrome is that the barbiehouse people just don’t like change unless they create that change.
I mentioned two aspects to the barbiehousers. The first is dealing with inanimate objects. Furniture, bookshelves, decorations and tupperware cupboards.
The second aspect of barbiesm is people.
This is actually the barbiehouse origin story. I can’t remember if it was my sister or wife that I was talking with. My sister I think, but it might have been my wife. The two of them are indistinguishable fairly often. In any event, I had listened to a female trying to herd people in a direction and to a place that female found agreeable. I didn’t understand the compulsion. I’m more aligned with letting people free range roam. Within reason obviously, because I do understand that free ranging children aren’t a good idea near roadways. But I’m not inclined to try and manipulate people into a space merely for the sake of a feeling that’s where they should be.
So, I told the unspecified woman that they remind me of a barbiehouse owner. The top was off the house and they were not just moving furniture but also Barbie, Ken, Skipper and Midge. There really wasn’t a reason to move the human dolls that I could discern, other than it made the mover feel as if their environment was under control. Because apparently there was also a place for people, and people needed to be in their place.
I’m a terrible Ken.
Even if I see nothing wrong with their preferred placement of moi, I still resist until they can provide a valid reason for repositioning me. I won’t accept an answer that involves feelings, or some vague need that they can’t properly explain. If the best explanation they can muster is, because I feel like you should be there, then my resolve actually stiffens to not be there. When these situations arise I like to fight fire with fire, and so If I’m asked why I won’t attend a certain event from either of these women I fucking relish answering with, because I don’t feel like it.
But for some odd reason, me not feeling like it isn’t on a par of necessity with them feeling like it. To end a feelings stalemate all my wife needs to do to barbie compel me is to change I would like to I want. At that point resistance is futile. She uses this option judiciously though. I think she gets it that if she overuses her I want option, then I’m likely to downgrade I want to I would like status. My sister doesn’t wield the same power with me, but I suspect the capability is available for use with her husband and children. I on the other hand, have the luxury of not living with her, and so I’m not exposed to the consequences of barbiehouse resistance to the same degree as the people that share her last name.
In a way I think I’m in possession of my own affliction. Anti-barbiesm. A condition where I’m not really disinclined to attend a gathering, but as soon as I’m told that I need to be there, then I suddenly don’t want to go. My wife has gotten much better over the years at going places without me. Part of the reason is confidence that I’m not required, and part of the reason is her memory of how shitty I made the event the last time she forced me to go.
I think too that my sibling and my wife define obligatory differently than me. They have an expansive list of what they feel is mandatory. I think the name should be changed to womandatory so that there’s a distinction based on gender. An example would be a Christmas concert for kindergarten nieces and nephews. That’s womandatory. A wedding for nieces and nephews is more mandatory. Not entirely requisite, but I’ve got to admit that the female in question has a better starting bargaining position for wedding attendance.
I think too that my wife has gotten much better at dealing with the inevitable question. The query from women and the men they’ve forced to attend a social gathering. The where’s your husband inquiry. She used to have to scramble to explain her lack of control, but now she’s much more comfortable saying, he’s an asshole. you’re going to have to ask him.