Maybe there really is something in the air? I have to say, I usually expect this kind of thing in the spring; those all too familiar voices of discontent emanating from hubby about how he’s getting old and is bored out of his skull and why can’t he go back on the road again and on and on it goes. Perhaps I should explain this a bit so it might make some kind of sense – we may be the perfect couple, inasmuch that perfection is only in the eye of the beholder and such individual benchmarks can only be determined by the two people who measure them, but, let’s just say we have a history with this; my husband is a chaos fiend, either by creating it in himself, or when that won’t do, creating it all around him by whatever means necessary, and his usual playmate and partner in crime in his search for excitement is me. This isn’t always a bad thing, but when you start to get a little older and when you want to settle down and just live your life and enjoy some fruits of your labors, or when you’ve done all the parties, hit all the clubs, done every weird sex act you can think of at least twice, you get to the point where everything you thought was cool isn’t anymore, but now you’re stuck groping around your own head looking for something to get you off, and that often leads to trouble, ergo, creating chaos. Life imitating art.

That’s the thing they never tell you when you’re young… hipsters don’t age gracefully… they just get old and tired, and there’s truly nothing worse than an aging hipster – they can’t stand themselves, and usually, no one else can either.

Society calls it the mid-life crisis, and not to stereotype but it’s usually a guy thing I think. Since I’ve known my husband, he’s had three full fledged mid-life crises, and he’s barely 40! But, when I consider how he spent his first 40 years, it all kind of makes sense to me why this happens, but does it have to happen every single year?

The first time was in 1996 and it led to our divorce. The second was in 2005 and I watched that one from the sidelines until it was time for me to intervene and put an end to Kid Chaos’ little run in fantasyland, for his own damn good, and now at the start of 2008 I’m right smack in the middle of it all over again. I’m not worried about him running off with another woman or buying a sportscar, he’s already worked those out of his system. This one I fear may be a bit trickier because I don’t know what his problem is, I only know the symptoms, and to some degree I think I’m partly to blame.

We don’t like to admit this, and I can’t believe I’m going to spill the beans on the ultimate holy grail of womanhood, but the truth is, we manage our men… every single day of our lives, especially the one’s we’re married to or cohabitate with on some kind of regular basis. Some of us take this too far and that’s just outright manipulation which is not what I’m talking about! When we manipulate a man just to get our own way, we’re cheating him, and ourselves out of the true beauty of a healthy relationship – but the idea that we manage men isn’t such a foreign concept is it? It’s like, oh, I don’t know… motherhood?

“Hey” he said as he walked in the door. I was sitting at my desk doing some work and looked up from my computer and smiled.

“Hi honey…”

He reached around my chair and leaned down to give me a kiss and then he walked over to one of the leather chairs we keep in our shared office space and sat down. He looked tired. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

I swiveled my chair around and looked over at him, “Something wrong?”

He paused a moment, “Yeah…”

We sat there in silence for a few seconds before saying another word, until I took the bait, “Okay, I give. What is it?”

“We were going to make movies…”

“Ah… and?”

“We were just… I don’t fucking know…”

“We were just… what?”

He got up and walked out into the kitchen. I sat there in my chair and waited for him. This was his style. Start something, walk away and hope that I’d follow him, but I know this little trick, and it didn’t take long for him to come back and sit back down in his chair.

“Yes?” I smiled

“It’s nothing…” he replied.

“It’s something allright!” I laughed.

“I read your blog post… you know, the one about the ring and all that, and I was just thinking about all the things we used to do when we were….” His words trailed off and drifted away into his own thoughts.

“When we were younger?” I laughed.

“Well… YEAH! When we were younger!” he shot back.

“We’re not exactly ready for the retirement home you know.”

“No I know that… but damn… I feel so… I don’t know… restless.”

“Restless?” I slowly inquired, “Why restless?”

“It was that ‘Kid Chaos and Psycho Chick’ comment you made…”

“Huh??” I was really puzzled now.

“Yeah… in one of your comments you referred to us as ‘Kid Chaos and Psycho Chick’! Do you know how long it’s been since you called me ‘Kid Chaos’??”

I started to laugh.

“It isn’t funny” he said, “I’m not kidding…”

“But sweetie…” I began, still laughing, “You’re not ‘Kid Chaos’ anymore!”

He stood up and shouted, “But I’m still KID CHAOS DAMN IT! I WANT TO BE KID CHAOS AGAIN!!!” Then he stormed out of the room.

I tried to contain my laughter, but he did have a point. A big part of the reason why I fell in love with this man was because he was in fact, Kid Chaos. I mean, I didn’t want to marry an insurance salesman… know what I mean? He was always a bad boy, with that unrepentant streak of rebellion with the sublime gift of artistry and taste – my perfect companion, because, well, let’s just say that I don’t sell insurance either.

Maybe part of the problem (if you can really call it a problem, most people would kill for what we have), is that for the last two years our life has been amazingly stable, productive, and maybe even a tad bit boring, especially for two people who thrived on searching for the ultimate thrill, however self destructive to both of us that may have been – and in all reality was. But I felt that we’d both reached the point where we were ready to settle down and just be us, and I don’t think that’s changed, but guys who have this personality trait often require, at least when they get older, a maintenance diet of chaos, just to keep them in shape.

I, on the other hand, have made the adjustment to the fact that I’m older and that things move a little slower, and I’m perfectly okay with that. My nesting instincts are in full force and I’m not going anywhere – maybe that makes me a little boring, but so what? I’m good. But maybe he isn’t, and that’s got me a little worried about him.

After a few minutes I got up and went looking for him and found him sitting at the kitchen table, sulking.

“Jeff…” I began, “What is it?” Where is all this coming from?”

“I don’t know…I guess I’ve just been thinking about…” his voice trailed off again.

“Thinking about what?”

He paused…“The good old days…”

“The good old days??” I blurted out…, “The good old days??” I was enraged, ”And what good old days would those be? The days when you were fucking a married woman and decided it would be a good idea to call her husband on the phone and bitch him out for being pissed off at his wife and then you told him not to make his problem your problem? And then you had the balls to fly down there after the guy threatened to shoot you between the eyes?! Or when you put a bounty out for someone to then go and steal something from their property…. or maybe you’re talking about the good old days when you were touring with George Clinton and didn’t come home for months on end… or maybe the good old days when you were out with Tricky and it was your birthday and you snorted an entire 8-ball by yourself and then thought it would be a good idea to get a lap dance and you wound up getting arrested instead because you grabbed some girl’s tits and started a fight in the club? Or when you hung around those sleazy clubs working for shitty bands and came home at four in the morning? Or when your whole life revolved around bands, hookers and blow… while you completely pissed your own talent away! Those good old days?” I was on a roll now, “Fuck you Jeff….you’re not that guy anymore… and if you want to be that guy… well, you can’t be that guy and still live in this house.” I sat there sternly as I watched a slow smile spread across his face. “Shall I go on?” I asked.

“I was Kid Chaos…” he smiled and muttered aloud.

“Yes… you certainly were.” I sighed.

“We were going to make movies… and I can’t even have a blog…” he muttered aloud again as he continued to sulk.”

“Well… we both know why THAT is now don’t we?”

“I guess…”

I paused and listened to what he was saying and I suddenly realized that it wasn’t the chaos he was searching for, but the attention that came from the chaos he created around him.

“Do you want a blowjob?” I asked.

He looked up, like a little boy whose mother just gave in to her child’s demands for a new Batman doll in the toy store.

“Okay…”

And then I led my baby by the hand to our bedroom. Kid Chaos intact. Managed again, but still ready to fight another day with your heroine, Psycho Chick.