Here is the link for Season Two - the new blogging adventure from moi....I hope you all follow me over there and enjoy round two as much as you did the first one! :)
http://thiswomansview18.blogspot.com/
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
The End.
Welcome to the season finale of Divorce Isn't For Sissies. In a shocking and abrupt plot twist, I am killing myself off. I know, I know...right now all you can think is "how is she going to carry on the blog for season two without herself?" I feel like Shonda Rimes right now. (who is supposedly killing off a major character on Private Practice next month?!? I am praying for Naomi, but fear that it is Pete. Sad, sad day) Unlike Shonda, I will be slightly more talkative regarding my reasoning and provide you with a little tiny bit of insight before dangling season two in front of you with an appropriate amount of mystery.
To put it most simply, I have outgrown my post-divorce rantings. Divorce remains one of the ugliest things to have touched my life and by no means am I saying that it is any less awful. But at some point in life the best thing to do with the ugly is to leave it behind and that is what I am going to do now. Sharing my journey with you when I was dating was fun - I got to mix my current stories up with my funny older stories. It was also cathartic. I benefited from sharing with you and seeing my stories through your eyes. Lately I have had to dig deep to find real angst to fuel new divorce stories though. I have pretty much run through my supply of bitter and bitchy.
I knew that it was time to end this particular blog topic after I finished spring cleaning my closet. In my closet is a hoard of sentimental, meant-to-someday-be-scrapbooked material that I hang on to like it is essential to my being. Like I will forget all my memories if I can't reach out and touch them from time to time. And by hoard, I mean....lots. Hallmark cards, vacation photos, my wedding album, old letters, dried flowers, movie date ticket stubs.....all of it. Boxes of it. And here is what I did with it all yesterday. I threw it away. All of it. I didn't keep one thing from any past relationship. And it felt.....amazing. Like I cut all the strings were left dangling from the past. Looking at all that empty, available shelf space made me feel free. All I can see is the future now - and I am so excited to explore that future with Chet that it leaves me with no room for my past.
So sadly, my semi-bitchy ranting on divorce has to come to an end. Season One. Complete. However, I love to write too much to quit blogging altogether. For any of you that want to still follow the random-ness that is my life - just send me your email address or post it on here somewhere and I will make sure to include you when I come up with an appropriate new blog title. (which I am taking suggestions for by the way) My blog, season two, is still working itself out - but I promise it will be just as irreverent and interesting as this one - only without all the divorce stories. Hopefully I should have it put together in May. Thank you all for everything - I have loved sharing this part of my life with you. I will leave you with these words of wisdom....
"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO what a ride!"
To put it most simply, I have outgrown my post-divorce rantings. Divorce remains one of the ugliest things to have touched my life and by no means am I saying that it is any less awful. But at some point in life the best thing to do with the ugly is to leave it behind and that is what I am going to do now. Sharing my journey with you when I was dating was fun - I got to mix my current stories up with my funny older stories. It was also cathartic. I benefited from sharing with you and seeing my stories through your eyes. Lately I have had to dig deep to find real angst to fuel new divorce stories though. I have pretty much run through my supply of bitter and bitchy.
I knew that it was time to end this particular blog topic after I finished spring cleaning my closet. In my closet is a hoard of sentimental, meant-to-someday-be-scrapbooked material that I hang on to like it is essential to my being. Like I will forget all my memories if I can't reach out and touch them from time to time. And by hoard, I mean....lots. Hallmark cards, vacation photos, my wedding album, old letters, dried flowers, movie date ticket stubs.....all of it. Boxes of it. And here is what I did with it all yesterday. I threw it away. All of it. I didn't keep one thing from any past relationship. And it felt.....amazing. Like I cut all the strings were left dangling from the past. Looking at all that empty, available shelf space made me feel free. All I can see is the future now - and I am so excited to explore that future with Chet that it leaves me with no room for my past.
So sadly, my semi-bitchy ranting on divorce has to come to an end. Season One. Complete. However, I love to write too much to quit blogging altogether. For any of you that want to still follow the random-ness that is my life - just send me your email address or post it on here somewhere and I will make sure to include you when I come up with an appropriate new blog title. (which I am taking suggestions for by the way) My blog, season two, is still working itself out - but I promise it will be just as irreverent and interesting as this one - only without all the divorce stories. Hopefully I should have it put together in May. Thank you all for everything - I have loved sharing this part of my life with you. I will leave you with these words of wisdom....
"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO what a ride!"
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Blog-ette
As the title suggests, this is just a mini-blog. Just a funny story that will be infinitely funnier if you know me. (My apologies to all you strangers, hopefully it is as least moderately entertaining for you as well.)
I can be a moody woman. When I get stressed, or tired, or overwhelmed....I sometimes morph into Psycho Stephanie and enter a world where facts are irrelevant and all that matters is how I feel and what I want. Thankfully, the older I get the less she makes an appearance. In my personal psychological evaluation of myself, my theory is that after the things I have been through it is harder and harder for me to get worked up over the small things because my priority scale has been reevaluated. The scale used to start with not returning phone calls within five minutes and ended up somewhere like forgetting my birthday. Now the scale doesn't even start until someone loses a limb or my hair is on fire. But just know, in the past I have been known to have a good tantrum or two...or ten.
About a week ago Chet and I had a crabby weekend. Nothing completely awful happened, but a bunch of little things just keep snowballing together until my bitch 'o meter kicked in. More than doing things that pissed me off, Chet was just doing things without thinking that were making me insecure - which in turn makes me pissy. Now Chet and I really don't ever fight. I like to think we are both so mature and wise now that we don't need to, but the truth is probably that we are still new enough to be on our better behavior somewhat. So the weekend passed without incident, I remained semi-bitchy until Tuesday, and Chet continued to let me.
Wednesday came and it was such a beautiful day that it was impossible for me to hold onto my bitchiness. I had the day off, spent the afternoon playing my best round of golf ever, and there was just no way I was going to be able to pull off crabby. So went to Chet's, had a great night, and we are cuddling up at the end of the night pillow talking when Chet brings up my weekend bitchiness. (Which was either incredibly brave or incredibly dumb - my good mood must have lulled his "look out! danger!" brain cells into a coma) We have a half hearted, half asleep post-mortem and Chet jokingly asks if our 'fight' is done. I laugh and tell him he hasn't even seen me fight or yell yet and his response was - verbatim - "you? yell? fight? yeah right" and then he rolled over and fell asleep.
I kid you not. He found the idea of me getting mad....funny. He doesn't think I have it in me to be really mean. So either I am way more well adjusted than I thought....or Chet is in for a rude awakening one day.
I can be a moody woman. When I get stressed, or tired, or overwhelmed....I sometimes morph into Psycho Stephanie and enter a world where facts are irrelevant and all that matters is how I feel and what I want. Thankfully, the older I get the less she makes an appearance. In my personal psychological evaluation of myself, my theory is that after the things I have been through it is harder and harder for me to get worked up over the small things because my priority scale has been reevaluated. The scale used to start with not returning phone calls within five minutes and ended up somewhere like forgetting my birthday. Now the scale doesn't even start until someone loses a limb or my hair is on fire. But just know, in the past I have been known to have a good tantrum or two...or ten.
About a week ago Chet and I had a crabby weekend. Nothing completely awful happened, but a bunch of little things just keep snowballing together until my bitch 'o meter kicked in. More than doing things that pissed me off, Chet was just doing things without thinking that were making me insecure - which in turn makes me pissy. Now Chet and I really don't ever fight. I like to think we are both so mature and wise now that we don't need to, but the truth is probably that we are still new enough to be on our better behavior somewhat. So the weekend passed without incident, I remained semi-bitchy until Tuesday, and Chet continued to let me.
Wednesday came and it was such a beautiful day that it was impossible for me to hold onto my bitchiness. I had the day off, spent the afternoon playing my best round of golf ever, and there was just no way I was going to be able to pull off crabby. So went to Chet's, had a great night, and we are cuddling up at the end of the night pillow talking when Chet brings up my weekend bitchiness. (Which was either incredibly brave or incredibly dumb - my good mood must have lulled his "look out! danger!" brain cells into a coma) We have a half hearted, half asleep post-mortem and Chet jokingly asks if our 'fight' is done. I laugh and tell him he hasn't even seen me fight or yell yet and his response was - verbatim - "you? yell? fight? yeah right" and then he rolled over and fell asleep.
I kid you not. He found the idea of me getting mad....funny. He doesn't think I have it in me to be really mean. So either I am way more well adjusted than I thought....or Chet is in for a rude awakening one day.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Man-clean
Women everywhere are going to nod their heads along with this blog and know exactly what I am talking about. Men who think they are the exception are going to protest and try and say they are the exception. They are wrong. All the other men will be offended, but don't worry...We aren't laughing at you....we are laughing with you....really.
One of the universal truths is that there is 'man-clean' and 'woman-clean'. This is most evident in single men households because married or cohabiting men likely have a woman going behind and making all the corners 'woman-clean' and the man just doesn't notice. However, if you were to go into a single man's home and venture that it needed a good clean he would likely be confused, thinking it is already clean. But really now...every man's house is simply waiting, begging really, for a woman to come take care of it.
Chet's apartment? No different. The walls whisper to me when I walk in, even lean a little my way like a kitten leans into your body when you pet it - that is how happy they are that a woman has walked in. They want to cuddle and purr on me. As I walk down the hall they offer suggestions; paint us a pretty color, please dust that crazy glass shelving unit, bring in wooden spoons and kitchen gadgets for the lonely kitchen....
Chet is actually, for a man, pretty clean. He understands that when he runs out of clean dishes he needs to wash them. He owns cleaning products and scrub brushes. He half heartedly makes the bed at least half of the time. For a while, he even met my anti-clutter standards. For a little while. So I was hopeful that if I brought home tools for him - he would use them. I set off for Meijers in high spirits on a sunny Saturday afternoon when Chet was at work. I smiled a little as I selected the full size cart because I could just see it full of home organization and heart warming cleaning paraphernalia. I may have even been humming the Mr. Clean jingle as I skipped along the home decor/kitchen aisles. The result of this shopping trip? A towel hamper and laundry basket for the bathroom in the hopes that dirty stuff would be sorted and contained. A dish scrubby brush and drying rack so that we can do dishes as we use them. Pretty, environmental friendly cleaning products - including disinfectant wipes that I go through like candy. (Aren't they seriously the best home cleaning toy invented this decade? Tell me I'm not wrong!)
So I happily loaded up my Jeep with my fun new purchases, headed back to Chet's apartment, and spent my Saturday afternoon cleaning and organizing - anticipating how excited Chet would be to see how smart I was, setting up this easy system for keeping things in the right place. This was the response I got once Chet got home and walked around the apartment for a few minutes: "ummmm....did you buy me a hamper?" Those were the words that were said but here is what they really meant: "ummm....did you really just buy this shiny, new rubbermaid thing and stick it in the corner where I like to pile my towels? It is hurting my eyes to look at it and I don't know if I can pee in the room with it watching me."
I did get a thank you for cleaning the apartment and then he went back off to work, probably grateful to get out before I exposed him to more new-tupperware fumes. Still, I held out hope that he would play nice and make friends with the new toys. Housewives everywhere are laughing at me right now, but I am an optimist. Laugh if you must. And it did half work. When I came over the next day the dirty clothes and towels were sorted into piles......two inches OUTSIDE their respective hampers.
One of the universal truths is that there is 'man-clean' and 'woman-clean'. This is most evident in single men households because married or cohabiting men likely have a woman going behind and making all the corners 'woman-clean' and the man just doesn't notice. However, if you were to go into a single man's home and venture that it needed a good clean he would likely be confused, thinking it is already clean. But really now...every man's house is simply waiting, begging really, for a woman to come take care of it.
Chet's apartment? No different. The walls whisper to me when I walk in, even lean a little my way like a kitten leans into your body when you pet it - that is how happy they are that a woman has walked in. They want to cuddle and purr on me. As I walk down the hall they offer suggestions; paint us a pretty color, please dust that crazy glass shelving unit, bring in wooden spoons and kitchen gadgets for the lonely kitchen....
Chet is actually, for a man, pretty clean. He understands that when he runs out of clean dishes he needs to wash them. He owns cleaning products and scrub brushes. He half heartedly makes the bed at least half of the time. For a while, he even met my anti-clutter standards. For a little while. So I was hopeful that if I brought home tools for him - he would use them. I set off for Meijers in high spirits on a sunny Saturday afternoon when Chet was at work. I smiled a little as I selected the full size cart because I could just see it full of home organization and heart warming cleaning paraphernalia. I may have even been humming the Mr. Clean jingle as I skipped along the home decor/kitchen aisles. The result of this shopping trip? A towel hamper and laundry basket for the bathroom in the hopes that dirty stuff would be sorted and contained. A dish scrubby brush and drying rack so that we can do dishes as we use them. Pretty, environmental friendly cleaning products - including disinfectant wipes that I go through like candy. (Aren't they seriously the best home cleaning toy invented this decade? Tell me I'm not wrong!)
So I happily loaded up my Jeep with my fun new purchases, headed back to Chet's apartment, and spent my Saturday afternoon cleaning and organizing - anticipating how excited Chet would be to see how smart I was, setting up this easy system for keeping things in the right place. This was the response I got once Chet got home and walked around the apartment for a few minutes: "ummmm....did you buy me a hamper?" Those were the words that were said but here is what they really meant: "ummm....did you really just buy this shiny, new rubbermaid thing and stick it in the corner where I like to pile my towels? It is hurting my eyes to look at it and I don't know if I can pee in the room with it watching me."
I did get a thank you for cleaning the apartment and then he went back off to work, probably grateful to get out before I exposed him to more new-tupperware fumes. Still, I held out hope that he would play nice and make friends with the new toys. Housewives everywhere are laughing at me right now, but I am an optimist. Laugh if you must. And it did half work. When I came over the next day the dirty clothes and towels were sorted into piles......two inches OUTSIDE their respective hampers.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Sex Addiction
Ok- this is a complete spur of the moment blog where I just read something online and wanted to share my opinion. Are you ready???? Here is what I read:
In Wednesday’s 14th season premiere of South Park, “Sexual Healing” (10 p.m. ET, Comedy Central), co-creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone address Tiger Woods and the phenomenon of sex addiction. According to the press release: “The nation’s top scientists come together to put a stop to the recent phenomenon of rich, successful men who suddenly want to have sex with many, many women. After extensive testing, some of the fourth grade boys in South Park Elementary are diagnosed as sex addicts.”
I am not a South Park follower, although it makes me laugh when people get all worked up over it. (It is a tv show people - turn it off if you don't like it! That is why God invented remotes!) However, it amuses me that they are going to mock Tiger's attempt to make entitlement become a medical condition by labeling it 'sex addiction'. It amuses me more because in my past there is a boy who used this exact same excuse for his cheating ways. Although he was not rich, nor successful.
Here is my opinion. Men who claim they are addicted to sex? They might as well just take a permanent marker and write 'weak', 'selfish', and 'stupid' all over their body. That is what is really the problem. It isn't a medical condition - it is a character flaw. The rest of us all learned in kindergarten that you don't get to do whatever you want, whenever you want - maybe they really have a learning disorder instead that kept them from understanding this? Men that claim to be addicted to sex just basically are living for the moment with zero self control, doing what feels good at the time - with no regard to the future or to anyone else. They are trying to justify their behavior with this stupid sex addiction label. Do they realize this makes them sound like bigger idiots? "Oh yeah...I am a cheater...but I can't help it, I'm addicted to sex." Seriously? So now you are a cheater AND an addict. Sweet. Let's just call it like it is guys. You are too weak to stand up to yourself and develop some moral character. You are too selfish to consider anything other than your pleasure for the moment. And you are too stupid to create a better excuse than sex addiction.
In Wednesday’s 14th season premiere of South Park, “Sexual Healing” (10 p.m. ET, Comedy Central), co-creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone address Tiger Woods and the phenomenon of sex addiction. According to the press release: “The nation’s top scientists come together to put a stop to the recent phenomenon of rich, successful men who suddenly want to have sex with many, many women. After extensive testing, some of the fourth grade boys in South Park Elementary are diagnosed as sex addicts.”
I am not a South Park follower, although it makes me laugh when people get all worked up over it. (It is a tv show people - turn it off if you don't like it! That is why God invented remotes!) However, it amuses me that they are going to mock Tiger's attempt to make entitlement become a medical condition by labeling it 'sex addiction'. It amuses me more because in my past there is a boy who used this exact same excuse for his cheating ways. Although he was not rich, nor successful.
Here is my opinion. Men who claim they are addicted to sex? They might as well just take a permanent marker and write 'weak', 'selfish', and 'stupid' all over their body. That is what is really the problem. It isn't a medical condition - it is a character flaw. The rest of us all learned in kindergarten that you don't get to do whatever you want, whenever you want - maybe they really have a learning disorder instead that kept them from understanding this? Men that claim to be addicted to sex just basically are living for the moment with zero self control, doing what feels good at the time - with no regard to the future or to anyone else. They are trying to justify their behavior with this stupid sex addiction label. Do they realize this makes them sound like bigger idiots? "Oh yeah...I am a cheater...but I can't help it, I'm addicted to sex." Seriously? So now you are a cheater AND an addict. Sweet. Let's just call it like it is guys. You are too weak to stand up to yourself and develop some moral character. You are too selfish to consider anything other than your pleasure for the moment. And you are too stupid to create a better excuse than sex addiction.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Vegas, baby!
Background Information:
1. Chet is away for the weekend with the guys. Apparently they do it every year - so this big group of guys is all up north to spend the weekend gambling, drinking, and telling lies about their sex lives. Testosterone fest - 2010.
2. When Chet drinks, he texts. No drunk dialing for my baby - but I get very chatty, usually sappy, texts from him when he is out drinking without me. He asked me today if they bug me and if he should leave his phone at the hotel - but I love them! They are almost always sweet, amusing, and/or complimentary to me. What is not to like?
With that said, last night I start getting texts around eleven o'clock. Because I am old and weary, I am already tucked into bed on this Friday night so I turn my phone volume way up so as to not miss any of the fun. They start out fairly tame with 'i miss u' and 'can't wait for Detroit' (we are going to Motor City next week) and they get a little sillier and sappier until they end with...."so I say we go to vegas and get married." Even for Drunk Chet, this one is a little out of left field.
Not that marrying Chet is out of left field, or even marrying him in the near future is out of left field. Eloping to Vegas is even just barely in the ballpark. But we haven't even talked about marriage - at all- to this point in our relationship. At least not to each other. My entire network of family and friends talk to me about it all the time, of course, because everyone loves Chet and I together. It is like there is this underground movement working to ensure we end up married. But as a couple, Chet and I just haven't had this conversation. So it is highly amusing, and completely sweet, that it pops up in the middle of a drunk text conversation. I love that he is sitting there in the middle of guy weekend, drinking and gambling with the boys....and thinking about marrying me.
1. Chet is away for the weekend with the guys. Apparently they do it every year - so this big group of guys is all up north to spend the weekend gambling, drinking, and telling lies about their sex lives. Testosterone fest - 2010.
2. When Chet drinks, he texts. No drunk dialing for my baby - but I get very chatty, usually sappy, texts from him when he is out drinking without me. He asked me today if they bug me and if he should leave his phone at the hotel - but I love them! They are almost always sweet, amusing, and/or complimentary to me. What is not to like?
With that said, last night I start getting texts around eleven o'clock. Because I am old and weary, I am already tucked into bed on this Friday night so I turn my phone volume way up so as to not miss any of the fun. They start out fairly tame with 'i miss u' and 'can't wait for Detroit' (we are going to Motor City next week) and they get a little sillier and sappier until they end with...."so I say we go to vegas and get married." Even for Drunk Chet, this one is a little out of left field.
Not that marrying Chet is out of left field, or even marrying him in the near future is out of left field. Eloping to Vegas is even just barely in the ballpark. But we haven't even talked about marriage - at all- to this point in our relationship. At least not to each other. My entire network of family and friends talk to me about it all the time, of course, because everyone loves Chet and I together. It is like there is this underground movement working to ensure we end up married. But as a couple, Chet and I just haven't had this conversation. So it is highly amusing, and completely sweet, that it pops up in the middle of a drunk text conversation. I love that he is sitting there in the middle of guy weekend, drinking and gambling with the boys....and thinking about marrying me.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Long Term Flaws
So if you have been faithful to my blog then you know that Chet and I are doing really well. We have met (and liked) each other's families, we have a somewhat regular weekly routinely worked out so we see each other around our crazy schedules, there is chick food and bubble bath in Chet's apartment, and we (dare I say it?) are pretty much happy and in love.
Now, while I am not ready to call an end to the fun, romantic first stage of our relationship yet - events partially out of our control did make us look for a moment somewhat seriously at the future the other night. Not that I haven't thought about the possibility of a future with Chet before now, but it has always been the kind of thought that is blurry around the edges and unshaped. There were no concrete details or plans or schedule. It was an optimistic thought - rather than a realistic, actionable thought. Someday. The other night just brought things into sharper focus for a little bit and made me, and I'm sure Chet, think for a moment about how that may look and what circumstances will shape it.
My gut reaction? I immediately feel a burning need to tell Chet all of my flaws, all of the reasons why he shouldn't want to be with me long term. The reasons why I am not a good bet for future happiness. I know this sounds like I am sabotaging myself, but there is a story behind it. Actually a book behind it. I finished that book called 'Committed' - the one that was about one woman's research and soul search about marriage. One of the things that I remember most was this story where she wrote down a list of all her most serious flaws, the kinds of flaws that she felt made her unworthy to be some one's partner. And then she gave it to her boyfriend. Her reasoning was that she loved him so much that she wanted to protect him from anything she could - even herself. Before they went through with their marriage, she wanted him to be 100% sure he understood how broken she was, so that there were no surprises and that he could protect himself from her if he so chose.
I feel like I need to do that, like I need to make sure Chet knows exactly what he is getting into if he looks towards the future. I don't want to continue the road that we are on and a year from now have him realize that I really wasn't lying when I said that I am awful at managing my money or that I have control issues. I have also been broken and not only do I want to make sure he knows that, but I don't ever want to put him in a position where he regrets taking a chance with me - so I want him to have all the facts straight up. With that said, if you were considering spending your future with me, here are the things you should know.
1. I really AM awful at managing my money, usually because I don't say no well. Need $20? Sure, here ya go. Having a rough night and need to go out for dinner and a bottle of wine? I'm in. It's your birthday/anniversary/wedding/new baby/monday blues day? I have the best, most amazing present for you. I promise. Now to give myself some credit, I am much better now than I was five years ago and I do for the most part have a budget plan that I loosely follow. I just can be talked out of it if you try moderately hard. When Brad and I were together he would get pissed at me constantly over things like this and instead of just handling our finances (which I was more than willing to let him do - I know that I need a handler) he was obsessed with trying to make me do it on my own and then being mad at me for my reasoning on why I did things the way I did. I am never going to be the responsible choice for running finances in a serious relationship. I have made my peace with it.
2. On the other hand, I like to run the house. I like to rearrange furniture on a whim. I like to organize cupboards, create homes for everything (many times with pretty labels so you don't get confused), pick out paint colors and redecorate as many times as needed until I am satisfied. Which may be never. I haven't reached that point in a home yet. I love to grocery shop, buy season appropriate candles for all major surfaces, and play hostess. I have a slight Queen of my Castle complex. It can be annoying to live with, but it is inevitable. Love me, love my neurosis.
3. My first reaction to any major life event or stressor is always, always going to be all emotional. This is something that is beyond my control. If you want to talk something out from start to finish in one sitting, then expect to have to help me work through all my feelings before I can think about it logically. This isn't to say I can't be rational, but my gut reaction is going to some kind of emotional outpouring that may or may not be based in fact or reason. I can be reasonable and handle life - but I just need my vent time first, without judgement. Typically this is something that men don't handle well.
4. I can be paranoid. This is an acquired flaw since my divorce. I really work hard at being trusting, but if you engage in behavior that is sneaky, or evasive, or strange...my gut reaction is always going to be that you are up to something. It is unbelievably important to me that my future partner understand my reasoning behind this and be willing to pretty much be an open book. I hate secrets, half truths, and pretenses.
5. It is important to pet me. I think that physical contact is really important in a relationship. If you are with me, then I believe that gives me the right to touch you pretty much whenever I want - and I am a frequent petter. I need to be connected. If you don't show me physical attention, I tend to get insecure and do crazy things to get your attention...like chop off all my hair or buy inappropriate clothing.
6. I need moments of peace and quiet. I can only handle so many days of chaos or activity before I become slightly crazy. I do not operate well when overbooked. I think of it like turning the 'off' switch on life for an evening every once in a while. Sometimes I just need to check out - from work, school, family, and even my partner. Let me do this.
Now, this is obviously not an all encompassing list of my flaws - but I think it is a pretty honest snapshot of the things that could impact a relationship, or things that make me slightly difficult from time to time. I also procrastinate, love to empty the hot water tank with super long showers, can't stand the smell or feel of raw tomatoes, and typically don't make the bed. So if you are an on-time, neat freak that hates to pay higher than normal water bills and loves raw tomatoes.....run.
Now, while I am not ready to call an end to the fun, romantic first stage of our relationship yet - events partially out of our control did make us look for a moment somewhat seriously at the future the other night. Not that I haven't thought about the possibility of a future with Chet before now, but it has always been the kind of thought that is blurry around the edges and unshaped. There were no concrete details or plans or schedule. It was an optimistic thought - rather than a realistic, actionable thought. Someday. The other night just brought things into sharper focus for a little bit and made me, and I'm sure Chet, think for a moment about how that may look and what circumstances will shape it.
My gut reaction? I immediately feel a burning need to tell Chet all of my flaws, all of the reasons why he shouldn't want to be with me long term. The reasons why I am not a good bet for future happiness. I know this sounds like I am sabotaging myself, but there is a story behind it. Actually a book behind it. I finished that book called 'Committed' - the one that was about one woman's research and soul search about marriage. One of the things that I remember most was this story where she wrote down a list of all her most serious flaws, the kinds of flaws that she felt made her unworthy to be some one's partner. And then she gave it to her boyfriend. Her reasoning was that she loved him so much that she wanted to protect him from anything she could - even herself. Before they went through with their marriage, she wanted him to be 100% sure he understood how broken she was, so that there were no surprises and that he could protect himself from her if he so chose.
I feel like I need to do that, like I need to make sure Chet knows exactly what he is getting into if he looks towards the future. I don't want to continue the road that we are on and a year from now have him realize that I really wasn't lying when I said that I am awful at managing my money or that I have control issues. I have also been broken and not only do I want to make sure he knows that, but I don't ever want to put him in a position where he regrets taking a chance with me - so I want him to have all the facts straight up. With that said, if you were considering spending your future with me, here are the things you should know.
1. I really AM awful at managing my money, usually because I don't say no well. Need $20? Sure, here ya go. Having a rough night and need to go out for dinner and a bottle of wine? I'm in. It's your birthday/anniversary/wedding/new baby/monday blues day? I have the best, most amazing present for you. I promise. Now to give myself some credit, I am much better now than I was five years ago and I do for the most part have a budget plan that I loosely follow. I just can be talked out of it if you try moderately hard. When Brad and I were together he would get pissed at me constantly over things like this and instead of just handling our finances (which I was more than willing to let him do - I know that I need a handler) he was obsessed with trying to make me do it on my own and then being mad at me for my reasoning on why I did things the way I did. I am never going to be the responsible choice for running finances in a serious relationship. I have made my peace with it.
2. On the other hand, I like to run the house. I like to rearrange furniture on a whim. I like to organize cupboards, create homes for everything (many times with pretty labels so you don't get confused), pick out paint colors and redecorate as many times as needed until I am satisfied. Which may be never. I haven't reached that point in a home yet. I love to grocery shop, buy season appropriate candles for all major surfaces, and play hostess. I have a slight Queen of my Castle complex. It can be annoying to live with, but it is inevitable. Love me, love my neurosis.
3. My first reaction to any major life event or stressor is always, always going to be all emotional. This is something that is beyond my control. If you want to talk something out from start to finish in one sitting, then expect to have to help me work through all my feelings before I can think about it logically. This isn't to say I can't be rational, but my gut reaction is going to some kind of emotional outpouring that may or may not be based in fact or reason. I can be reasonable and handle life - but I just need my vent time first, without judgement. Typically this is something that men don't handle well.
4. I can be paranoid. This is an acquired flaw since my divorce. I really work hard at being trusting, but if you engage in behavior that is sneaky, or evasive, or strange...my gut reaction is always going to be that you are up to something. It is unbelievably important to me that my future partner understand my reasoning behind this and be willing to pretty much be an open book. I hate secrets, half truths, and pretenses.
5. It is important to pet me. I think that physical contact is really important in a relationship. If you are with me, then I believe that gives me the right to touch you pretty much whenever I want - and I am a frequent petter. I need to be connected. If you don't show me physical attention, I tend to get insecure and do crazy things to get your attention...like chop off all my hair or buy inappropriate clothing.
6. I need moments of peace and quiet. I can only handle so many days of chaos or activity before I become slightly crazy. I do not operate well when overbooked. I think of it like turning the 'off' switch on life for an evening every once in a while. Sometimes I just need to check out - from work, school, family, and even my partner. Let me do this.
Now, this is obviously not an all encompassing list of my flaws - but I think it is a pretty honest snapshot of the things that could impact a relationship, or things that make me slightly difficult from time to time. I also procrastinate, love to empty the hot water tank with super long showers, can't stand the smell or feel of raw tomatoes, and typically don't make the bed. So if you are an on-time, neat freak that hates to pay higher than normal water bills and loves raw tomatoes.....run.
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