My friends have been needling me for some time to watch Downton Abbey, a drama set in the early 20th century about a British family who must forfeit their fortune to a distant cousin because no male heir exists. I love period pieces so I wasn’t surprised that I was gripped once I finally began watching DA. There is something about the restraint and formality in every aspect of life of this time period that I find utterly fascinating, particularly as it relates to relationships. Couples were forced to sit in stiff drawing rooms, conversing about socially acceptable topics. A married couple maintained separate bedrooms for the large part of their relationship, probably never dreaming of sharing a bathroom, how vulgar! And while the etiquette of this time period seems ludicrous for the most part, there is a quality of restraint and mystery which I respect and have tried to forge in my own relationship with J.
Rule 1: J cannot watch me change or step out of the shower. I realize that since J and I live together there are times when he will see me nude, but I feel it is a matter of courtesy and respect that I choose these times. Heck, I’m not asking for separate bedrooms as any respectable lady from the ‘20’s would.
Rule 2: For the most part, the bathroom door stays closed during grooming procedures. There is no reason J needs to see me floss, pluck eyebrows, or blow my nose. A Donwton Abbey lady would never dare perform such activities in front of others, and I quite agree.
Rule 3: I’m not that crazy, I just have two!
These rules may be a bit old-fashioned especially given that J and I are in fact living together, unmarried. But I think even small measures of formality keep at least a smidge of privacy between J and I and keep us from feeling like roommates when we should be feeling like a couple.
- B
I go to the gym nearly every day. I wish my gym loyalty appeared because I love every second or because working out makes me feel strong and happy, but I really go because I feel a crushing guilt if I don’t. Some days I get so frustrated I’d like to kick over a treadmill and smash it to pieces with a bat. Because, despite my regular attendance I have many imperfections that will probably never go away. Yet, I know subconsciously that this guilt that leads me back to the gym is a positive force in my life. I have practically zero health issues, I can participate in fun outdoor activities with ease, and come summertime I don’t look horrid in shorts.
This idea that guilt can be more a friend than foe circled home plate for me last weekend. J and I were talking to a friend of a friend, V, someone we hadn’t met before. I was entertaining V with stories, trying to liven up the mood of an otherwise tepid evening,
“My five year college reunion is coming up at the end of May,” I divulged. “My friends and I made a pact not to bring significant others so we can run wild.
Of course I was joking but V looked at J somewhat startled “You’re going to let her do that?”
J nodded calmly. “B can’t tell a lie. She runs to me every time she has the most slightly awkward encounter with a guy. I completely trust her.”
J’s words only scratched the surface of my chronic truth-telling. From the very first week we began dating I have told J more than most would think necessary, including J: when a friend makes a pass at me, how I feel seeing an old flame on the streets, even when a coworker buys me a cup of coffee. Though I am fully aware that these encounters are harmless, I feel a lurking guilt until J has been informed of every detail I can muster.
Thanks guilty conscience, for keeping me up at night and needling me until I do the right thing. J’s probably tired of you but I’m sure he has a small thank you somewhere as well.
-B
When J gave me a preview of his friend’s wedding we ended up attending last weekend in North Carolina he used the words “deep south” and “country.” Needless to say I was a bit apprehensive prior to our depature. I haven’t spent much time in the South and was worried I might stick out like a clueless Yank. What would I have in common with J’s friends? What would we talk about?
Yet, from the moment our plane’s wheels hit the tarmac I fell in love with North Carolina. People looked in my eyes and smiled as I passed on the street, strangers offered detailed directions without a twinge of impatience, and J’s friends made me feel as if we had known each other forever. There was a sort of cadence to life that I’ve never felt before - unhurried but purposeful. There was this feeling of savoring the moment, like the way you would sip on a fine wine.
In this context I felt a more full understanding of J. Here in NYC he sometimes seems so laid back I become exasperated, mistaking his attiude for indifference. But, among the climate of calm in North Carolina J was like a frog in water. Sure a frog can hop about on land and get from place to place but underwater he jets like a torpedo.
Now back in the hubub of NYC I can’t help but feel like the one that doesn’t fit anymore. This frenetic and cramped lifestyle feels like a weight rather than a jolt of energy. It may be time for me to hop in the water with J and see how I swim.
-B
I recently attended a bachelorette party which left me in possession of one of the quintessential party favorites – a penis straw. Part of me is a complete kid and delights in mischief, so I stowed away the treasure for future use. Not too long afterwards, J and I went to a casual Sunday dinner with friends. I seized the opportunity to unveil my party favor and poked my tablemates with zeal. J hung his head in mock embarrassment while one of my friends (through fits of laughter) declared “I don’t know how J puts up with you!” J gave me a squeeze and kiss on the head – it would take much worse to phase him.
While my friend’s comment was merely a joke it made me realize there are probably guys out there who would look down on my behavior and think less of me. Heck, I’ve dated guys who I would never act that way around. The evening made me realize what that phrase “I can be myself” really means. I can act childish at times, stubborn, forbearing, etc. and J will love me all the same. It’s liberating to know you have a partner that will support you no matter how you act or what life path you choose.
Now I’ll just have to think of a way to use this Whoopi cushion I got a hold of…
-B
Over the past few months I have been suggesting to both J and my brother, A, that they should hang out. They have met several times in the past and chatter away long after I’ve grown bored. J’s love of technology and sci fi is lost on me, but it is heartening that he can share these interests with A. J has also begun attending the gym regularly and I knew he would benefit from A’s vast, encyclopedic knowledge of fitness.
The two eventually decided to hit the gym together and share weight training routines. I imagine the testosterone and grunts pumping through that weight room were more than I could have bore, but the duo had a great time and began speaking more regularly.
After work one day J asked what I thought about my brother finding an apartment in the city (he had been looking for a few weeks).
“What!” I screeched, “A didn’t tell me anything, how could he have told you this before me!” I mocked my hostility but I was actually a bit put out. I have a hard time getting A to communicate with me and I felt wounded that after one sweat session he was chirping away to J.
I took a few days to cool off and realized (a) be careful what you wish for because I got just what I wanted (b) this was a blessing. I reminded myself of a guy I dated whose sibling was a (B-diagnosed) narcissist. I was filled with dread each time I had to hang out with this sibling. It got to the point where I avoided his family gatherings and even him when I was asked for an explanation.
So while I would still like to be the favorite in my brother’s eyes, I am thankful that he gets along with J because both individuals are important in my life, and the last thing I was to do is make a choice between the two.
- B
It’s been weighing heavily on me for months - this feeling that things just aren’t right. I’ve been pushing forward telling myself these are quitter’s thoughts and of the many things I am, a quitter is not one. Yet, last week I awoke with a gripping ache piercing my body and I knew something had to be done. My phone trembled in my hands as I typed a quick email ending “You’re a great trainer, but I think it best that we stop seeing each other.”
While I had no sort of romantic relationship with my trainer, our parting felt uncannily similar to a break-up. Like many relationships, ours began with the sun shining and birds chirping. M found me about six months ago working out in the gym and told me I looked like a runner. I was flattered and our conversation flowed easily as I realized he was my age and a near elite runner (unlike myself who is average in the running world). I signed up for sessions immediately (sorry bank account). M invited me to run on his team and I became even more entrenched. Watching M fly through races filled me with awe and determination to improve. His positive energy was unfailing and in the beginning my times improved quickly.
However, three months later, my new relationship high took a sharp nosedive. I wrenched my knee leaving me hobbling even at a walk. I switched to group classes to save money and found myself performing sprint drills with other runners, taping my knee and popping pain killers before class to drag myself (literally) through. Yet my knee was getting worse and the dread that sickened me before each class kept me up at night.
It was hard for me to admit, but my relationship with M had become toxic. M had forgotten about my needs in his quest to push me harder and I knew we could never go back to the way things were.
After sending the definitive email I saw M at the gym. We had a somewhat awkward enounter but he volunteered, “You look good, you look strong!” He was right, after cutting loose the anchor that was dragging me down I feel good. I’ll always have a sweet spot for M but next time I realize it’s time to let go of a relationship, I won’t wait so long.
-B
Uncertainty has always been my biggest problem in relationships. Not compatibility, shared values, or respect but a little question that you figure would be solved before you even begin dating – is this right? And more importantly, how do I know for certain? I wrote about this a few weeks ago and asserted that maintaining a relationship is a choice – plain and simple. No divine inspiration, no signs, just a choice that we have to reaffirm each morning as we’re brushing our teeth (and if you don’t, that’s just gross).
Easier said than done.
On most days I don’t question my relationship, I’m busy with work, the gym, social gatherings, and family. But every once in awhile, mostly during quiet moments, niggling fears wriggle through my mind, poking lines of doubt into my relationship. What is our future together? How do I know I can trust him?
I had been turning over these thoughts for some time until I took a horseback ride with my mom over the weekend. We trotted along mellow green hills and valleys enjoying the mild breeze until my mother’s horse tripped severely and nearly nose-dived forward. Horseback riding is an inherently dangerous sport and we have seen neighbors become injured beyond repair, even die. Naturally, my mom became agitated and the rest of the ride we fell silent, considering the multitude of disquieting injuries which could befall us. Yet, I realized once we unsaddled that we couldn’t spend each moment contemplating these potential, yet also equally unlikely dangers. Instead, we needed to embrace the risk of this sport if we were ever going to survive, move on, and find enjoyment in the moment.
This same learning can be applied to relationships. We must embrace the inherent risk in tying our lives to another person and realize that questions are normal – they’re our body’s way of reminding us of this risk. J and I have had nothing but a serene and harmonious ride, and I don’t plan to interrupt it my imagining a fall which may never happen.
- B
My close friend is currently grappling with the decision of whether to move forward with a relationship that is long distance (and to her thinking less likely to succeed) or break it off now before she becomes too emotionally attached and unable to sever the tie. It’s a question I feel has no easy answer and I am reticent to give advice in either direction lest my words sway her too severely.
However, since this blog provides a thin veil of anonymity you get to hear what I really think:
If an LDR is worthwhile to both people involved – they will make it work. Couples all over the globe prove the LDR is possible on a daily basis. Married, dating, or other these people have learned to plan visits months in advance, reschedule their lives in order to see each other, and practice give and take so that both individual’s needs are met.
Since I’ve assured you it’s possible, I also have to caution you that an LDR (typically) requires more dedication and commitment than a short distance relationship. The bonds which are usually strengthened through physical contact, (not just that, holding hands, hugging, etc.) must be sustained through calls, emails, texts, and maybe even snail mail. Temptation can be more potent as each partner will be less privy to the daily activities of the other, thus an occasional trist could go completely undetected. I could enumerate the hardships of an LDR but I think you get the point.
So, my advice is to follow your heart, if you’re willing to put in the work. An LDR provides excitement and thrill which short distance relationships have to work hard to recreate. The joy of being reunited is unparalleled, it’s like the butterflies you get in your stomach when you swing too high on a playground swing. You’ll savor each moment you have together because time’s a tickin’ – but the seconds will seem all the sweeter.
Jump in with both feet, or don’t jump at all.
-B
One of my all-time favorite childhood books, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, contains a message that has traveled into my adult-life and continued to affect my thinking (read on before you judge).
The story describes a little boy who gives a mouse a cookie, but the mouse has a new request each time his previous request has been granted. Next the mouse is in need of milk to wash down his cookie, then a face wash to scrub off stray crumbs, the story eventually ends where it began – with the mouse requesting another cookie.
I believe the author’s intended moral was to warn against the dangers of leaving a task unfinished. Yet, for me, the real lesson is a warning against a very human predicament: insatiable desire (just disguised by a cute, furry little mouse). Pretend for a moment the mouse is a college graduate, M. M wants only to land a job as an elementary school teacher, he even prays saying, “Lord if I can have only this one thing I will be happy.” Once M has that one thing, however, he realizes he needs more money to get a decent set of wheels so he transfers to a high school teacher job which pays better. Now M meets the high school English teacher (a total babe) and they want to get married. But M needs money for a wedding, his next desire grows to become principal of his school. Each new achievement or goal leads M onto a new want or desire - this ladder of desire can continue onward, conceivably forever.
In a way, this human predisposition is admirable. We are eternally striving for more, for a better life and brighter future. Yet, I believe we also become so caught up in the next step that we lose sight of the present and place our happiness on ice, until the next goal is achieved. Yet, if my presumption is true, we’ll never get a chance to unthaw our joy because we’ll be looking forward instead of at our own two feet which are planted firmly in today, not tomorrow.
I’m as guilty of this as the next person. But, the moral of this rather long-winded post is to explain one of the qualities that I admire in J; an ability to be happy in the present – plain and simple. As a precaution, however, I won’t be giving J any cookies in the near future.
-B
