Don suffering from MSH – Male Selective Hearing

I’m afraid dear old Don suffers from MSH (male selective hearing). I knew he had this affliction when I married him, so I guess I have no one to blame for the trouble it causes.

You may also have a male in your family or know of one who suffers from this common condition. If that is the case you have my utmost sympathy.

I have been under the weather for a few days with a sore throat and sinus infection. At times my throat hurt too badly to talk at all. I would then have to resort to sign language or other means of communications.

Dear Don is pitiful at reading lips or hand gestures, with the exception of a couple of universal gestures no one would have trouble identifying. To make this even worse he has that pesky MSH disease.

Now you put all those together with a wife who cannot talk and a conundrum is sure to arise.

I tried my very best to communicate with him but to no avail. It made me aware that even when I can speak to him his MSH sets in and he cannot hear me. The following true examples will prove out my story.

"Honey, can you turn up the heat?" I asked.

"I’m not hungry just yet," he replied. "Can we wait awhile to eat?"

"I’m going to go ahead and shut and lock all the doors," I told him late one evening.

To which he replied, "Why are you mopping the kitchen floor this late?"

"Hey sweetie, I’m gonna take a quick shower."

Dear Don replied, "Where are you going this late?" (He thought I said I’d be back in an hour!)
"What do you want for supper?" I inquired.

"I’ll be up in my office for a while," was his reply. He hadn’t a clue what I had just said and I had no clue to his response.

Later we are watching a movie on TV and the volume was louder than usual. All of a sudden he muted the sound.

"Did you hear that?" he asked.

"Hear what," I replied.

"That noise," he said.

"No, I don’t hear anything."

"Well listen," he instructed.

I listened intently and did not hear a thing. He got up and goes to the kitchen where he found the faucet dripping. He heard this small, quiet, barely-discernible drip through a cacophonous movie score. His MSH had just set in.

As stated earlier, I had to resort to hand gestures over the weekend to communicate. I was folding laundry and came across little Zac’s socks.

I smiled tenderly as I folded them.

"Why are you smiling?" Don wanted to know.

I pointed to my eye, my heart and the socks.

"You love socks?" he questioned.

I shake my head "no." I point to my eye, my heart and raise my hand to my waist to indicate a child.

"You love short people?" was his next question. I shoo him away. He can’t be that clueless! My tender moment has now passed.

As the day went on I found it increasingly frustrating trying to communicate with him so I just turned to silence. We both found that to be a relief and an unexpected pleasure.

As we retired for the evening, I turn over and spell out "I love you."

He replied, "I Luke what?"

I kick him and spell it out again.

"Oh," Mr. Clueless replied. "I love you."

"I Luke you, too," I whispered.

"Sweet dreams."