Are All Women Bipolar, or Is It Just Me?

Because I am a teacher and because it is summer, I seem to have a lot of time on my hands. Today, I decided to do something for someone else. I took on the task of cleaning my boyfriend's bathroom. This bathroom of his had become something out of a guy's college apartment - quite atrocious! In fact, the other day when I decided to take a shower over there, I wore flip-flops! So, being the good girlfriend, I stocked up the supplies (Soft Scrub, scrub brush, rags, Clorox toilet cleaner). When he left for work, I got busy. I began with the shower. Ugh, it was terrible. I probably should have worn gloves. An hour and a half later, I stepped back and admired my sparkling, clean work. I continued onto the toilet, which emitted a smell all its own. The vanity and mirror were also attacked on this Soft Scrub rampage. Finally, I got down, Cinderella-style, and began scrubbing the floor. Four hours later, Ryan's bathroom shone, smelled great, and had fresh towels adorning the walls. It is now probably cleaner than when he moved into the place. I was pretty proud of myself, and I was dying to see his reaction.

He came home. That's it. He came home. He was, of course, happy. But, he didn't even spend time to admire it. Four hours of work earned a glance and a pat on the back. He immediately began getting ready for the gym. This is about the time something clicked in my brain and I instantly became pouty. I wanted . . . I don't know. . . I wanted him to love on me for a little while. I wanted him to spend just a few minutes with me. I wanted him to be excited about his bathroom. I wanted something. I don't know what happened. I turned into one of "those" girlfriends. I said I was leaving, without giving an explanation.

After 2 miles of sweating, I began to go back to being me. It took the whole 2 miles to come to grips with what I had just done. I got mad because I didn't get the attention and time that I thought I deserved. Why couldn't I have just told him that? Why couldn't I have just asked him to sit down and relax for a minute? Why couldn't I just be humble, for Pete's sake? Instead, I shut down. The thing that made me blow was when Ryan said that I had gone from being so excited that he was home to being super sad and that I was being "bipolar". The run helped, but why did I have to get to that point? He was right, wasn't he? I was being bipolar - the high highs, and the low lows.

I've seen girlfriends do this time and time again. Are we all hard wired to be snappy and moody with our significant others? If so, how do we stop? Or, is it just me?