El Paso herald. (El Paso, Tex.) 1901-1931, 1914-12-22


eighth woman, because I was
Il over-sensitive
In poems and novels the woman who
is all quivering sensibilities. and who
shrinks under a touch as does the mi
mosa, Is an alluring and romantic fig
ure, but, believe me, she belongs to a
book. Che has no place in the give and
take of domestic life, where the chief
requisite for happiness is possessing an
epidermis thick enough to turn off
family Jabs as the hide Of a rhinocerOs
turns off spear thrusts.
Now I am the. great original human
sensitive plant. As a child I was a cry
baby As girl I was a shy, morbid
creature, distrustful of myself, always
imagining that I was being passed over
and fancying sights in every careless
word and look.
I married a man who was-just a
man. He was a fine fellow in every
way, but it was a purely masculine
way. He was wholesome. and practi-
cal, and cOmmonsensical, and the least
subtle and psychic person that 1 have
ever met.
why he picked me out for a wife
do not know. Perhaps women Of the
shy and retiring violet type appeal to
men of his kind. Perhaps it was my
very difference to him that attracted
him before marriage as it bored him
afterwards. Many men, I fancy, marry
women in a vain attempt to solve a
feminine conundrum that piques their
curiosity. and whose answer they never
guess, and of which, after time, they
weary trying to unriddle.
Bristled with Feelings.
We'll, We were married. and instead
of finding that 1 was the gentle little
household pet that he had supposed 1
would be, my husband discovered that
I bristled with feelings" as q porcu-
pine does with quilts, and I was Just
about as soothing and pleasant as a
companion. He never could know how
I was going to take anything, or when
he was going to wound NV precious
sensibilities, or when at some perfectly
innocently intended word or act on his
part I would burst into tears and fly
to my room.
q used to be sorry for myself I now
pity my poor husband. Living with me
must have been iaS nerve wearing a
proceeding as trying to walk on eggs,
for my feelings were spread out all
over the place, and to keep from tread
ing on them required more than mortal
skill and agility.
MY husband was a busy man, hard
worked and full of cares and having
assured me a million times that he
loved me, and assumed my support for
life to prove it, he naturally supposed
that the question was settled and that
he might go about his other affairs in
pNctGCs Alee my s'SAlss4 II tllCo5 NOulu 4ADA
brook this.
IF a day passed that he did not
swear that he wOrshipped me 7 i'm
agined myself neglected. If he failed
to kiss me when he hurried off in the
morning I saw in that an uhmistaka-
BILE indication that he had wearied of
me and had fallen in love with some
other woman, and by night had
worked myself up into such a state of
historical Jealousy that it took hours
of persuasion and asseveration Of his
affection to calm me.
such scenes were a frequent occur
renee in our home, and while they
gratified my morbid vanity, for that is
all that sensitiyeness is, they gradu-
ally killed my husbands affection for
me. They made love duty. and obliy
cation, instead of a gift They made
him know that he was under contract
to deliver kiss every morning as long
as he lived, or else pay for the lack Of
it with scene, and when a woman
forces that issue. sac has lost out
MY accursed sensitiveness also killed
all confidence between my husband and