I shared a few weeks ago that MT and I signed up for an online course called Purposeful Conception. (See button on the right for more info.) Mostly it was an overview of things I had already researched, but it lead to some interesting conversations between the two of us. Mostly, how can anyone really be ready for the journey of becoming parents?
For both of us, but for MT in particular, considering the losses is much easier than projecting the possible gains. The loss of freedom is one that resonates most. We have no concept of just how much freedom we have right now because we've never been without it. Flexibility to make plans as far in advance or on a moment's notice is something that we both treasure. While I wouldn't consider us spontaneous people, having a kid will challenge even our "super planner" personalities.
It's also a scary thing to make ourselves vulnerable to the process of trying to get pregnant. There are so many things out of our control and so very few that we have power to shape. Even when the pre-natal vitamin is taken religiously and the sex is timed perfectly, the chance of conceiving each month is dismal. Potential disappointment lurks around each monthly cycle's corner.
And yet, here we are, in the process. We went from actively avoiding to actively trying, kidding ourselves at first that we'll just "wait and see what happens." That isn't who we are. We are the 100% committed kind of people! We want results. We want affirmation.
There is so much yet to be learned, things I cannot even imagine. I'm nervous but excited. I know I'm not ready and that I never really could be, but I'm comforted in knowing that no one ever is.
Showing posts with label Partnership. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Partnership. Show all posts
The Car of our Future
I never realized how much emotional baggage a vehicle could hold until we traded one in last weekend.
Growing up with a mother who avoided the most necessary of tasks in order to function in her anxiety-filled state of being, I have overcompensated to a fault. I'm the person who is likely to put that beloved t-shirt you haven't donned since last September in the discard pile and get it to the Goodwill before you can spot in missing in your bottom drawer. The second something pops up that causes me an ounce of anxiety, I am on a mission to resolve it as quickly as possible, even if it means a trip to the dentist or the gynecologist or, worst of all, the DMV.
At the same time, I am an incredibly cautious when it comes to financial decisions that have long-term implications. Truth be told, I haven't been in that situation much in my adult life. I've had to sign leases for pricey apartments in Connecticut and DC, but that's about the extent of it. Thanks to the generosity of my aforementioned anxious mother, I've been driving the same clunker since college, which suits me just fine. It takes a lot of energy to enter a car dealership, don't you think?
What's funny is that we weren't even replacing my car. We were out to trader in MT's functioning, yet rapidly deteriorating Saturn Vue. Let me tell you, finding a part for a car from a manufacturer that no longer exists is about as easy as scouring Ebay for a pair of gently used silver size 10 Jimmy Choo pumps. Sure, they might be out there, but how much of your time and energy do you want to spend on your search?
While the Vue was running just fine, minus a few brake pad replacements here and there, it had some cosmetic things that were starting to become problematic. For instance, the passenger side door developed a leak between the window and the door, so that after a hard rainstorm, which is basically a daily afternoon occurrence in the summer, when MT made his first hard left turn, I'd end up with a bunch of stinky brown rain water dumped in my lap. So, we'd still get where we were going, but not in the most pleasant way imaginable.
Ultimately my desire to remain dry on the way to a restaurant on date night overrode my desire to put off a huge financial decision and we ended up at the dealership looking at a slightly used SUV that had features that pretty much made us start salivating, although we tried not to let on to the salesman that we were desperate. When he'd leave us alone for a minute to check on numbers, we'd squeal, "The Bluetooth is AWESOME! We can listen to Pandora while we drive. Omg, Santigold station!" "Don't you love the wooden finish on the inner console? It looks so classy! And there are FOUR cup holders in the front. We can have two drinks each!"
Of course, by the time you actually purchase the car and fill out the dozens of required forms, it's nearly impossible to even remember what the car you've bought even looks like. There were moments of serious impatience, mostly due to my not having eaten anything since breakfast other than the complimentary popcorn the dealership had for its customers. "I didn't even know we were buying a car today," I snapped at one point. Somehow we managed to push through the five hour purchase process and made our way home in our new ride, playing with all of the buttons and calling everyone we could via Bluetooth (obviously).
But, it did something deeper than I was expecting. Trading in theVue for a car that we both have equal ownership of was yet another step towards solidifying our new life together as a married couple, putting behind the cars and memories and decisions of the past and looking toward our future of road trips and kids in car seats and joint decision-making. I love our car because it adds to the narrative of us. It means new adventures and memories that we'll make together, singing to the Beatles and Maroon 5 and James Taylor the whole way. The keyless entry ain't so bad either.
Growing up with a mother who avoided the most necessary of tasks in order to function in her anxiety-filled state of being, I have overcompensated to a fault. I'm the person who is likely to put that beloved t-shirt you haven't donned since last September in the discard pile and get it to the Goodwill before you can spot in missing in your bottom drawer. The second something pops up that causes me an ounce of anxiety, I am on a mission to resolve it as quickly as possible, even if it means a trip to the dentist or the gynecologist or, worst of all, the DMV.
At the same time, I am an incredibly cautious when it comes to financial decisions that have long-term implications. Truth be told, I haven't been in that situation much in my adult life. I've had to sign leases for pricey apartments in Connecticut and DC, but that's about the extent of it. Thanks to the generosity of my aforementioned anxious mother, I've been driving the same clunker since college, which suits me just fine. It takes a lot of energy to enter a car dealership, don't you think?
What's funny is that we weren't even replacing my car. We were out to trader in MT's functioning, yet rapidly deteriorating Saturn Vue. Let me tell you, finding a part for a car from a manufacturer that no longer exists is about as easy as scouring Ebay for a pair of gently used silver size 10 Jimmy Choo pumps. Sure, they might be out there, but how much of your time and energy do you want to spend on your search?
While the Vue was running just fine, minus a few brake pad replacements here and there, it had some cosmetic things that were starting to become problematic. For instance, the passenger side door developed a leak between the window and the door, so that after a hard rainstorm, which is basically a daily afternoon occurrence in the summer, when MT made his first hard left turn, I'd end up with a bunch of stinky brown rain water dumped in my lap. So, we'd still get where we were going, but not in the most pleasant way imaginable.
Ultimately my desire to remain dry on the way to a restaurant on date night overrode my desire to put off a huge financial decision and we ended up at the dealership looking at a slightly used SUV that had features that pretty much made us start salivating, although we tried not to let on to the salesman that we were desperate. When he'd leave us alone for a minute to check on numbers, we'd squeal, "The Bluetooth is AWESOME! We can listen to Pandora while we drive. Omg, Santigold station!" "Don't you love the wooden finish on the inner console? It looks so classy! And there are FOUR cup holders in the front. We can have two drinks each!"
Of course, by the time you actually purchase the car and fill out the dozens of required forms, it's nearly impossible to even remember what the car you've bought even looks like. There were moments of serious impatience, mostly due to my not having eaten anything since breakfast other than the complimentary popcorn the dealership had for its customers. "I didn't even know we were buying a car today," I snapped at one point. Somehow we managed to push through the five hour purchase process and made our way home in our new ride, playing with all of the buttons and calling everyone we could via Bluetooth (obviously).
But, it did something deeper than I was expecting. Trading in theVue for a car that we both have equal ownership of was yet another step towards solidifying our new life together as a married couple, putting behind the cars and memories and decisions of the past and looking toward our future of road trips and kids in car seats and joint decision-making. I love our car because it adds to the narrative of us. It means new adventures and memories that we'll make together, singing to the Beatles and Maroon 5 and James Taylor the whole way. The keyless entry ain't so bad either.
Late Night Laughs
Instead of our usual Kindle reading at bedtime, MT and I were snuggling up to each other, exhausted from our respective days. Tired from the worries of the world and annoyances at work, it felt so calm and peaceful to be still and quiet in our togetherness.
After a few minutes, MT said sweetly, "My favorite part of the day is coming home to you."
I don't know why, but I responded, "My favorite is lunch."
We then proceeded to giggle uncontrollably for the next ten minutes. It was a laugh that we both needed--a reminder that there is joy and goodness during the darkest of times.
It's great to be married to your buddy who likes to laugh as much as you do.
After a few minutes, MT said sweetly, "My favorite part of the day is coming home to you."
I don't know why, but I responded, "My favorite is lunch."
We then proceeded to giggle uncontrollably for the next ten minutes. It was a laugh that we both needed--a reminder that there is joy and goodness during the darkest of times.
It's great to be married to your buddy who likes to laugh as much as you do.
A True Partner
(Some of you have asked to see my wedding dress. I'd love to share it, but I'm keeping it a secret from Carolina Man! Feel free to email me at thenonstudent@gmail.com if you want a picture.)
In the past, the term "partner" was one I used only because I hated referring to a significant other as "boyfriend." Saying "partner" sounded less sophomoric, more serious and committed. And sometimes it kind of confused people who were used to hearing the word only to describe gay and lesbian couples. I sort of liked that. It felt like I was being ultra-politically correct by using it.
But in reality, I had no freaking idea what I was talking about. I threw around the term "partner" mostly because I wanted to be treated like an adult and I liked the way it sounded, not because it was a true reflection of that relationship.
Partnership is teamwork. It's unity and commonality. It is a locked-arm-in-arm way of moving forward into the unknown of the future. And it's also wrapped up in the mundane tasks of daily life, like unloading the dishwasher even if it isn't your turn. Or picking up the dog's poop again. It's learning to love someone's family as your own.
Carolina Man is my partner in the truest sense of the word. Yesterday after my mom left to go visit my uncle, he held me as I cried, feeling overwhelmed not only by her departure, but by how my life has changed over the past year. Change for the good is still change, and it can sting in the most unexpected ways. As difficult as it is to feel those things, I know I can do so safely in his arms. No matter how I'm feeling, or what triggered my emotions, he is reassuring and affirming. Those moments are what deepen and solidify the trust we are continually building.
The best compliments Carolina Man and I have received as a couple are the ones that reflect our striving to act as a team in all that we do, whether that's in how we have conversations with each other or how we train our dog Lucy. My mom said the other day that she knew we would be great parents because we will raise our children with intentionality. I believe she is absolutely right about that.
Carolina Man and I still have so much to learn about each other. But with each hurdle we encounter, we do so with honesty, respect, and love for one another.
In the past, the term "partner" was one I used only because I hated referring to a significant other as "boyfriend." Saying "partner" sounded less sophomoric, more serious and committed. And sometimes it kind of confused people who were used to hearing the word only to describe gay and lesbian couples. I sort of liked that. It felt like I was being ultra-politically correct by using it.
But in reality, I had no freaking idea what I was talking about. I threw around the term "partner" mostly because I wanted to be treated like an adult and I liked the way it sounded, not because it was a true reflection of that relationship.
Partnership is teamwork. It's unity and commonality. It is a locked-arm-in-arm way of moving forward into the unknown of the future. And it's also wrapped up in the mundane tasks of daily life, like unloading the dishwasher even if it isn't your turn. Or picking up the dog's poop again. It's learning to love someone's family as your own.
Carolina Man is my partner in the truest sense of the word. Yesterday after my mom left to go visit my uncle, he held me as I cried, feeling overwhelmed not only by her departure, but by how my life has changed over the past year. Change for the good is still change, and it can sting in the most unexpected ways. As difficult as it is to feel those things, I know I can do so safely in his arms. No matter how I'm feeling, or what triggered my emotions, he is reassuring and affirming. Those moments are what deepen and solidify the trust we are continually building.
The best compliments Carolina Man and I have received as a couple are the ones that reflect our striving to act as a team in all that we do, whether that's in how we have conversations with each other or how we train our dog Lucy. My mom said the other day that she knew we would be great parents because we will raise our children with intentionality. I believe she is absolutely right about that.
Carolina Man and I still have so much to learn about each other. But with each hurdle we encounter, we do so with honesty, respect, and love for one another.
The Good (and Hard) Life
“Life is good. Life is hard. These two truths are unrelated.” Stacy Morrison
I’m not sure why I decided to pick up Stacy Morrison’s Falling Apart in One Piece, a memoir about going through a divorce. For someone like me who is trying to piece a broken relationship back together, it certainly wasn’t inspiring to read about the pain and heartache of dissolving a marriage. I struggled to get through it at times, her tales of disaster upon disaster (some divorce-related, others just plain old life-related) which at times sounded a bit on the melodramatic side, even for someone going through hell.
I waded through nearly 200 pages of sadness and misery until her words began to click. I saw much of myself in Morrison as a young woman—focused on pushing, pushing, pushing to a place that she imagined would be safe, secure, and stable. Only after they divorced did she realize she’d left her partner behind.
When SCL and I first started dating and I realized where the relationship was heading, I remember telling my mom how hard I planned to work to make our relationship last. It was like I was armed and ready for the first conflict to arise, so I could tackle it, identify our issues, work through them, and continue forward. I wanted to anticipate every single problem that we would face and be ready to work through it. I was going to make it work no matter what, damnit! I wasn’t going to be one of the statistics about children from divorced parents. I saw my relationship with SCL as something to be conquered rather than cherished.
And what that meant was that in preparing to combat the future problems and issues, I lost sight of the daily joys, the small pleasures, the being together on the couch, the real stuff that made our relationship what it was. I quickly became so engrossed with creating a long-lasting relationship that I forgot to nurture the relationship I had at the time: a young, exciting, vulnerable, unpredictable love.
What I couldn’t prepare for was rupture. In my mind I was already at the altar, making a commitment to SCL, that it hadn’t occurred to me that I had charged ahead of him, leaving him behind. I didn’t realize that he’d wanted to slow down (in part because he had not told me) when all I wanted to do was accelerate to a place where I thought I’d feel safe: a ring on my finger, a public commitment made, and a life bonded together by marriage. I wanted SCL to grow up—to catch up. Then, I thought, I would be content with where we were and could really start living as partners, as a family. Then his parents would accept our relationship as something real. Then I could really love him the way that I want—freely, generously, and without fear.
In the months since SCL broke up and made up, I have found myself in a constant state of anxiety and fear about our coming back together. Am I just setting myself up for more heartache? Have we learned anything in such a short period of time that would really help in beginning again? I fear SCL’s lack of commitment and what that might mean for the future. I tell myself, “If this isn’t forever, then it isn’t worth it.” My love for him has become tainted by fear, which is a hard place for love to reside. Some of the time my love feels more like desperation, like I’m just clinging to what one day I might lose again—ring or no ring.
There is no way to know if these decisions I am making now—to stay with SCL, to be patient with the process, even to live a few blocks away from him—are ¬wise or foolish. But I know they are heartfelt and risky and out of the love, care, and hope I have for him and for our relationship. I want to love without fear of the unknown. I want to give myself to SCL in spite of him having hurt me and how difficult this time has been. I cannot control him, his actions, or his feelings. I cannot dictate how the next month or year or decade will go. But I can be true to myself in how I love and live throughout this good, yet hard time of uncertainty and discovery.
I’m not sure why I decided to pick up Stacy Morrison’s Falling Apart in One Piece, a memoir about going through a divorce. For someone like me who is trying to piece a broken relationship back together, it certainly wasn’t inspiring to read about the pain and heartache of dissolving a marriage. I struggled to get through it at times, her tales of disaster upon disaster (some divorce-related, others just plain old life-related) which at times sounded a bit on the melodramatic side, even for someone going through hell.
I waded through nearly 200 pages of sadness and misery until her words began to click. I saw much of myself in Morrison as a young woman—focused on pushing, pushing, pushing to a place that she imagined would be safe, secure, and stable. Only after they divorced did she realize she’d left her partner behind.
When SCL and I first started dating and I realized where the relationship was heading, I remember telling my mom how hard I planned to work to make our relationship last. It was like I was armed and ready for the first conflict to arise, so I could tackle it, identify our issues, work through them, and continue forward. I wanted to anticipate every single problem that we would face and be ready to work through it. I was going to make it work no matter what, damnit! I wasn’t going to be one of the statistics about children from divorced parents. I saw my relationship with SCL as something to be conquered rather than cherished.
And what that meant was that in preparing to combat the future problems and issues, I lost sight of the daily joys, the small pleasures, the being together on the couch, the real stuff that made our relationship what it was. I quickly became so engrossed with creating a long-lasting relationship that I forgot to nurture the relationship I had at the time: a young, exciting, vulnerable, unpredictable love.
What I couldn’t prepare for was rupture. In my mind I was already at the altar, making a commitment to SCL, that it hadn’t occurred to me that I had charged ahead of him, leaving him behind. I didn’t realize that he’d wanted to slow down (in part because he had not told me) when all I wanted to do was accelerate to a place where I thought I’d feel safe: a ring on my finger, a public commitment made, and a life bonded together by marriage. I wanted SCL to grow up—to catch up. Then, I thought, I would be content with where we were and could really start living as partners, as a family. Then his parents would accept our relationship as something real. Then I could really love him the way that I want—freely, generously, and without fear.
In the months since SCL broke up and made up, I have found myself in a constant state of anxiety and fear about our coming back together. Am I just setting myself up for more heartache? Have we learned anything in such a short period of time that would really help in beginning again? I fear SCL’s lack of commitment and what that might mean for the future. I tell myself, “If this isn’t forever, then it isn’t worth it.” My love for him has become tainted by fear, which is a hard place for love to reside. Some of the time my love feels more like desperation, like I’m just clinging to what one day I might lose again—ring or no ring.
There is no way to know if these decisions I am making now—to stay with SCL, to be patient with the process, even to live a few blocks away from him—are ¬wise or foolish. But I know they are heartfelt and risky and out of the love, care, and hope I have for him and for our relationship. I want to love without fear of the unknown. I want to give myself to SCL in spite of him having hurt me and how difficult this time has been. I cannot control him, his actions, or his feelings. I cannot dictate how the next month or year or decade will go. But I can be true to myself in how I love and live throughout this good, yet hard time of uncertainty and discovery.
In an Ideal World...
SCL would be:
- Five years older, done with school, and more grown up
- More excited and less anxious about making a commitment to me
- More appreciative of how much I love him and how dedicated I am to being a good partner
I would be:
- Less fixated on my relationship issues
- More secure in myself
- Value my needs as much as I do his
Our relationship would be:
- More defined
- Stable
- Mutually affirming
- Satisfying for both of us
A woman can dream, right?
Think Again Thursday: On Compromise
Writing from the lovely Acela train up to attend my beautiful friend L's wedding this weekend. Very exciting!
I want to spend some time deconstructing and unpacking the whole "don't compromise" bit of advice that I'm sure we've all given, received, doubted, absorbed, or rejected at some point in our lives. During my short relationship "pause" with SCL, I heard this from many well-intentioned friends and loved ones. Of course at that point I was bemoaning how the relationship hadn't been what I wanted (my, how easy it is to say that in the midst of a break-up!), so naturally the response I got was, "He wasn't right for you, and don't compromise what you want in a relationship."
Now, to a certain degree, I do support not compromising on certain things:
I want to spend some time deconstructing and unpacking the whole "don't compromise" bit of advice that I'm sure we've all given, received, doubted, absorbed, or rejected at some point in our lives. During my short relationship "pause" with SCL, I heard this from many well-intentioned friends and loved ones. Of course at that point I was bemoaning how the relationship hadn't been what I wanted (my, how easy it is to say that in the midst of a break-up!), so naturally the response I got was, "He wasn't right for you, and don't compromise what you want in a relationship."
Now, to a certain degree, I do support not compromising on certain things:
- Key core values (for me that would include feminism, gender equality, and progressive causes)
- Major life goals (getting/not getting married, having/not having children)
- Safety (Obvious, but worth stating)
Essentially, I support not compromising on what makes you a complete whole human being. The problem is that I think our expectations about what it requires for us to achieve satisfaction and a sense of wholeness are seriously skewed and more akin to Disney films than something we can actually reasonably expect to achieve.
I am the biggest culprit of this. I don't even pretend not to envy my many friends who are in relationships that are on a sure path to marriage. I have wanted this for over a year with SCL. The desire to marry is a core value for me. What is not essential about that is the exact time, place, and details about how that will occur. But over time I had convinced myself that I needed SCL to commit by this time and in this way with this kind of ring. I had talked to myself so much about that I was convinced that it was true.
How do I know this isn't true? Because SCL and I together despite a short break-up, not getting engaged, and moving out of our apartment. Granted it hasn't been long since all of this stuff happened, but the fact that we somehow find a way to move through all that crap is an indication to me that we've still got something worth fighting for. And our interactions are more healthy than they ever were when we were talking about rings. He is honest with me about what he wants; I do the same; and we are talking about how to get to a new place where we are both satisfied.
We can choose not to compromise--to toss aside the relationship that doesn't match up with what we want, when we want it. I could do that with SCL. I've thought about it. I think to myself, "Oh, I just want to find someone older and ready to get married." Maybe that would work out, at least for the time being. But who's to say that this other partner and I would continue to be on the same page for the next five years or ten years or however long? And why in the hell would I turn my back on the person I've loved for two years, who is trying really hard to be the partner I need?
When we were dealing with the whole couch situation, I was PISSED at SCL. BIG TIME. In a matter of about 15 seconds, I had worked myself up into a fury directed at him. If he hadn't broken up with me, if he hadn't insisted on moving out of our apartment, I would never be living in this new place that was too fucking small for my couch. Therefore, it was SCL's fault that the couch didn't fit, and I wanted to give him hell about it. He finally yelled at me, "Sometimes things don't work out the way we want them to!" Not his fault. Not my fault. Just, c'est la vie. Damn it. It's so much better being able to target my anger at another person.
I don't want to view my relationship with SCL--the person most precious to me--through a lens of consumerism. I don't want to wake up one day "unsatisfied," assume that this feeling is an indication that something is wrong with the relationship itself (rather than recognizing life's ebb and flow of happiness), convince myself I'm compromising, and walk away from it. I don't want to blame any lacking I feel on my relationship when there simply are times when I will not have what I want, when I want it.
So, I am compromising. On certain things. Not things that I absolutely need right this second. And I am learning to be alright with being in that place.
Shutting the Door
SCL and I had an exhausting weekend of doing the dreaded move-out cleaning of the apartment, as well as selling our beloved couch. It was an emotionally draining, not to mention physically exhausting, weekend. The whole process of packing up and saying good-bye to the place seemed to take forever. SCL moved out at the beginning of June. Then I had another month before moving myself and then a week after that before we said our final good-byes.
I know it sounds kind of silly to be saying good-bye to a sterile apartment in a generic high rise building, but it was our first home together. I can only hope it won't be our last. And after this weekend, I have more reason to believe that we will build a home together again.
I've talked a lot about my impatience with SCL to say something definitive about our relationship. I've waited what has felt like an eternity for some kind of indication--either way, I just wanted to know. I was getting fed up with his wavering, his non-committal "I don't know"s. But I resisted my urge to blow up and demand answers. I reminded myself that this was a time of transition, that nothing major ought to be decided in the middle of this upheaval. As Elizabeth Gilbert talks about in Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage
, there are times when we must say to one another, be careful. We need to be very careful about what we say during times of confusion, exhaustion, and distress.
Of course I rarely actually practice this. Last week when the fucking couch wouldn't fit up the goddamn stairs, I cried out, "Now you're going to get what you want--the money for the couch!" Not my most mature moment. But I do try. When I think about it.
Anyway, this is all to say I have done my damndest to keep my mouth shut and let SCL be in his process. And as we packed up the apartment, cleaned every little crevice of the bathroom tile and the kitchen floor, his emotion poured out. We wept together over what we were losing--of what we were both incredibly sad to be letting go of. That was the moment when I least expected a word of comfort, but instead that was what I got.
"This won't be the last time we share a home together." Guess who said this? Not me--SCL. He went on to tell me how these past few months have been incredibly important for him, for gaining perspective on our relationship and readjusting his expectations about what a relationship should be--from a fantasy to the reality that relationships have good times and bad, that we feel good and bad at times, and that all of this is normal and not an indication that there is anything wrong with the relationship itself. "I can picture a life with you," he said.
He can picture a life with me. I cannot even tell you how important it was for him to say this and for me to hear it at that moment. All along I've been thinking that this moving apart was a moving away from a future together--that we were moving backward. I'd been deathly afraid of the day when we finally left our place together because it meant that we had failed, that we were broken and never were going to put ourselves back together.
But I realized in that moment that it didn't have to be that way. SCL told me in no uncertain terms that he viewed this time of living apart as a step forward to making a commitment to each other (my non-scary way of saying "getting married"). He told me that he hadn't been ready to do that a year ago, but he didn't know that until we were in the middle of it. "Next time, "he said, "I want to be ready to do this right."
I brought up my concerns about waiting until he was done with school. Another four years just seemed like too long. He told me that while he's still in coursework, it will be a tough time for him. But once his comprehensive exams are done (probably in another year and a half) he will be in a much better place academically and will have freedom that he doesn't right now. I could tell that he had obviously thought about this extensively. See, even though he wasn't saying much the last few months, he was thinking about us.
As we did our final walk-through--and remembered the bottle of ketchup in the fridge that we'd forgotten--we held each other and shed a few tears. But we walked out together, hand-in-hand. We went back to his new place. He played the piano; I sang. We ate Ben & Jerry's out of the carton and cuddled on the couch.
And I realized, we may have shut the door on our old place, but not on our life together.
I know it sounds kind of silly to be saying good-bye to a sterile apartment in a generic high rise building, but it was our first home together. I can only hope it won't be our last. And after this weekend, I have more reason to believe that we will build a home together again.
I've talked a lot about my impatience with SCL to say something definitive about our relationship. I've waited what has felt like an eternity for some kind of indication--either way, I just wanted to know. I was getting fed up with his wavering, his non-committal "I don't know"s. But I resisted my urge to blow up and demand answers. I reminded myself that this was a time of transition, that nothing major ought to be decided in the middle of this upheaval. As Elizabeth Gilbert talks about in Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage
, there are times when we must say to one another, be careful. We need to be very careful about what we say during times of confusion, exhaustion, and distress.Of course I rarely actually practice this. Last week when the fucking couch wouldn't fit up the goddamn stairs, I cried out, "Now you're going to get what you want--the money for the couch!" Not my most mature moment. But I do try. When I think about it.
Anyway, this is all to say I have done my damndest to keep my mouth shut and let SCL be in his process. And as we packed up the apartment, cleaned every little crevice of the bathroom tile and the kitchen floor, his emotion poured out. We wept together over what we were losing--of what we were both incredibly sad to be letting go of. That was the moment when I least expected a word of comfort, but instead that was what I got.
"This won't be the last time we share a home together." Guess who said this? Not me--SCL. He went on to tell me how these past few months have been incredibly important for him, for gaining perspective on our relationship and readjusting his expectations about what a relationship should be--from a fantasy to the reality that relationships have good times and bad, that we feel good and bad at times, and that all of this is normal and not an indication that there is anything wrong with the relationship itself. "I can picture a life with you," he said.
He can picture a life with me. I cannot even tell you how important it was for him to say this and for me to hear it at that moment. All along I've been thinking that this moving apart was a moving away from a future together--that we were moving backward. I'd been deathly afraid of the day when we finally left our place together because it meant that we had failed, that we were broken and never were going to put ourselves back together.
But I realized in that moment that it didn't have to be that way. SCL told me in no uncertain terms that he viewed this time of living apart as a step forward to making a commitment to each other (my non-scary way of saying "getting married"). He told me that he hadn't been ready to do that a year ago, but he didn't know that until we were in the middle of it. "Next time, "he said, "I want to be ready to do this right."
I brought up my concerns about waiting until he was done with school. Another four years just seemed like too long. He told me that while he's still in coursework, it will be a tough time for him. But once his comprehensive exams are done (probably in another year and a half) he will be in a much better place academically and will have freedom that he doesn't right now. I could tell that he had obviously thought about this extensively. See, even though he wasn't saying much the last few months, he was thinking about us.
As we did our final walk-through--and remembered the bottle of ketchup in the fridge that we'd forgotten--we held each other and shed a few tears. But we walked out together, hand-in-hand. We went back to his new place. He played the piano; I sang. We ate Ben & Jerry's out of the carton and cuddled on the couch.
And I realized, we may have shut the door on our old place, but not on our life together.
Extrovert, Meet Introvert
I had not one but two birthday celebrations this past week. I know that sounds excessive, but the second was a joint bash with my best friend from college. He'd hired a cover band to play at one of his favorite bars, and since his birthday is the day after mine, he invited me to come and bring my friends. So I doubled up the evite guest list and came ready to party.
Remember the needy girl I described who is lacking in the social skills area? Before our party was to begin, I get a call from her. Not only is she already at the party venue, but she has come straight from the airport and has her large suitcase in tow. At a bar. On a Friday night. Meanwhile I'm in the middle of having dinner with my friend. Ay yay yay. Anyway, it all ended up being fine but not exactly the fun beginning to the evening I was looking for.
Once I had a few drinks (mostly purchased by my awesome friends!) and the band started playing, I was getting into the party spirit and dancing like a crazy person. SCL, on the other hand, was not. This is not surprising. SCL is an uber introvert and prefers playing trivia in a small group than standing in the middle of a crowded bar. I can't really blame him--in fact, if it hadn't been my birthday, I probably would've felt similarly. My birthday buddy's group of friends is a bit on the douchey side, and for the first part of the night they dominated the crowd.
At around midnight, SCL said he wanted to go home. A few months ago this would've bothered me a lot. I used to think we needed to come and go together to things like this, and I may have thought, "Ok, then I'll go home, too." But this was my party, and a lot of my friends were still there. I didn't want to go home! SCL said he'd wait up for me, so I kissed him good-bye and went on dancing without him.
When I got home, he was, in true SCL form, watching Star Trek. Classic. We both sat down with a hunk of that delicious chocolate birthday cake and stayed up into the wee hours of the morning. I'm seeing that I don't need SCL by my side all the time to have fun. In fact, there are times when it's more fun to be by myself. And I'm also learning that just because SCL doesn't dance like a crazy person, that doesn't mean he wasn't having a good time. So, he and I are different. A lot different. But at the end of the night, he's the one I want to have cake with.
Remember the needy girl I described who is lacking in the social skills area? Before our party was to begin, I get a call from her. Not only is she already at the party venue, but she has come straight from the airport and has her large suitcase in tow. At a bar. On a Friday night. Meanwhile I'm in the middle of having dinner with my friend. Ay yay yay. Anyway, it all ended up being fine but not exactly the fun beginning to the evening I was looking for.
Once I had a few drinks (mostly purchased by my awesome friends!) and the band started playing, I was getting into the party spirit and dancing like a crazy person. SCL, on the other hand, was not. This is not surprising. SCL is an uber introvert and prefers playing trivia in a small group than standing in the middle of a crowded bar. I can't really blame him--in fact, if it hadn't been my birthday, I probably would've felt similarly. My birthday buddy's group of friends is a bit on the douchey side, and for the first part of the night they dominated the crowd.
At around midnight, SCL said he wanted to go home. A few months ago this would've bothered me a lot. I used to think we needed to come and go together to things like this, and I may have thought, "Ok, then I'll go home, too." But this was my party, and a lot of my friends were still there. I didn't want to go home! SCL said he'd wait up for me, so I kissed him good-bye and went on dancing without him.
When I got home, he was, in true SCL form, watching Star Trek. Classic. We both sat down with a hunk of that delicious chocolate birthday cake and stayed up into the wee hours of the morning. I'm seeing that I don't need SCL by my side all the time to have fun. In fact, there are times when it's more fun to be by myself. And I'm also learning that just because SCL doesn't dance like a crazy person, that doesn't mean he wasn't having a good time. So, he and I are different. A lot different. But at the end of the night, he's the one I want to have cake with.
Get Me Out of This Chocolate Cake Coma
Instead of getting me a gift for my birthday, SCL made me homemade chocolate cake from scratch with three scrumptious layers of nearly flourless dark chocolate cake with chocolate buttercream frosting. The thing has more than a pound of dark chocolate and I don't even want to know how much butter.
I have a confession: my relationship is making me fatter. Normally I hate talking about weight because I think we all obsess about it too much, but I can't overlook this sudden change in my own body. When SCL and I were broken up, I dropped about five pounds, probably because I was feeling down. But normally I'm an emotional eater, which leads me to think a break-up would actually cause me to eat more. When I decided to hop on a scale a few days ago, I was shocked to see I'd gained almost all of my break-up weight loss.
Some of this, I think, was due to that week on the road. But I can't overlook that SCL and I don't have good eating habits together. We eat a lot of homemade pizza, and we both have an affinity for chocolate. I think we do better apart, but together we're a diet disaster. Maybe it'll be better when we've totally separated our groceries. But we're such bad influences on each other when we eat a meal together.
Did you pack on the pounds when you started dating your significant other? Has anyone managed to get them off? And how do you change your habits together? I need some advice.
I have a confession: my relationship is making me fatter. Normally I hate talking about weight because I think we all obsess about it too much, but I can't overlook this sudden change in my own body. When SCL and I were broken up, I dropped about five pounds, probably because I was feeling down. But normally I'm an emotional eater, which leads me to think a break-up would actually cause me to eat more. When I decided to hop on a scale a few days ago, I was shocked to see I'd gained almost all of my break-up weight loss.
Some of this, I think, was due to that week on the road. But I can't overlook that SCL and I don't have good eating habits together. We eat a lot of homemade pizza, and we both have an affinity for chocolate. I think we do better apart, but together we're a diet disaster. Maybe it'll be better when we've totally separated our groceries. But we're such bad influences on each other when we eat a meal together.
Did you pack on the pounds when you started dating your significant other? Has anyone managed to get them off? And how do you change your habits together? I need some advice.
Feeling Blah about the "I Don't Know"
When SCL and I were broken up, I had so much emotion that writing a blog post took little if any effort at all. It was easy to think about what to say that morning and the next morning and the next morning. And when we first began working things out, I felt the same. But now that things aren't as intense, I'm not sure how I feel in general, much less how I feel about blogging.
Reader Katie left me a comment yesterday that's something to think about. A lot to think about. The truth is I'm not feeling satisfied with my interactions with SCL. We have a good time, we enjoy one another's company, but it's difficult to accept that as enough when we've come from a place of deep intimacy and connection in the past. I know it hasn't been that long (less than two months) since SCL came back and said he wanted to try to work things out. And it's only been two weeks since he moved into his new place. But how long is too long? I feel like I'm trying to meet him where he needs me to, but what about me?
I do want clarity. I do want to know where this is heading. I am not satisfied with simply hanging out and being "whatever" together. I told him some version of this yesterday, and he responded that he's adjusting to not living together and figuring out what that means. This is fair, I guess, but it won't be an adequate response forever.
The part that's difficult is believing deep down that he's the person I'm going to be with (so it's ok to wait for him) and not getting what I want in the present. I seem to be putting a lot of hope and expectation on the future for when he comes around. I don't know if I'm hopeful or just outright delusional.
Reader Katie left me a comment yesterday that's something to think about. A lot to think about. The truth is I'm not feeling satisfied with my interactions with SCL. We have a good time, we enjoy one another's company, but it's difficult to accept that as enough when we've come from a place of deep intimacy and connection in the past. I know it hasn't been that long (less than two months) since SCL came back and said he wanted to try to work things out. And it's only been two weeks since he moved into his new place. But how long is too long? I feel like I'm trying to meet him where he needs me to, but what about me?
I do want clarity. I do want to know where this is heading. I am not satisfied with simply hanging out and being "whatever" together. I told him some version of this yesterday, and he responded that he's adjusting to not living together and figuring out what that means. This is fair, I guess, but it won't be an adequate response forever.
The part that's difficult is believing deep down that he's the person I'm going to be with (so it's ok to wait for him) and not getting what I want in the present. I seem to be putting a lot of hope and expectation on the future for when he comes around. I don't know if I'm hopeful or just outright delusional.
Tension-->Collaboration: Week Five of Therapy
I came into therapy this week feeling a bit more punchy than usual. Now that I'm not in the doom and gloom of the break-up, or in the teary/WTF-is-going-on? stage, my needs are changing. I didn't really know what I wanted to talk about, but we started out discussing the book I've been reading, The Good Marriage. (Really I recommend this to everyone in a serious relationship or who wants to be in one someday.)
In the book, Judith Wallerstein examines the stories of 50 couples in which both partners say they are happy in the relationship. She outlines four types of marriages--romantic, rescue, companionate, and traditional--as well as the necessary tasks that couples undertake over the course of their relationship. She asked if there was one that stuck out to me.
We began discussing one of the early tasks, separating from the family of origin. I explained how in my case I was fortunate to have a mom well-versed in parenting adult children as I'm the youngest of three. She's supportive but not invasive. SCL on the other hand is...well, not as fortunate. His mom means well, but she still thinks she knows best. And of course, no one is good enough for her baby boy. Barf. Needless to say, I haven't had a fair shot. That isn't to say that I've been blameless in the situation, and I fully intend on making amends with his mother as soon as I have the opportunity. But C also reminded me that I can't expect anything from her in return. She may accept my words, she may not, and ultimately I decided I needed to do this for the sake of our relationship. If she continues to be a bother, SCL will need to step in.
This conversation flowed into an airing of quasi-grievances such as having to adjust once again to a life tied to a poor grad student for the next 4 or more years. I was really looking forward to not having to deal with all of that, and here I am again, dealing with it. SCL wants a different apartment with more space, but because he doesn't make much money and I'm not willing to suck it up and pay a lot more out of pocket, that limits where we can live. I'm worried that we'll have to more too far out and getting into DC will be a pain. There's a lot of anxiety in knowing we'll have to compromise on this, and I must be careful not to neglect the things that I need, rather than being silent and playing the martyr later.
The same kind of issue came up as I discussed the importance of marriage and even though it is still quite early in our getting back together, I would like to discuss a timeline for making a formal commitment to each other to solidify the one we are already making by ourselves. This is important to both of us, and well, I'd like to have an idea of when it might happen. I talked about how he had hated the idea of a diamond ring, but admitted last week that was more about finding an excuse not to get engaged than it was about the damn diamond ring.
I realized (well, C helped me realized) that I was approaching these conversations in an adversarial way. I had my wants, he had his wants, there was clashing and arguing. She said, "Try to think about how you'd discuss this with a best friend. Think in terms of collaboration rather than about opposing sides because this is about what's best for your relationship, not either of you individually." Brilliant. And here I was thinking I had this communication thing down. I've got a lot to learn. It honestly had never occurred to me to approach these issues in this way, but it makes complete sense. We both care deeply about these issues, and in a loving relationship, we should honestly care about what the other person wants, thinks, and feels.
I'm going to reflect more on this and try to apply some of this in our conversations this week. Not only will it relieve some of the inevitable tension that occurs when there's disagreement, but it will also help us discern what is actually best for both of us.
What are your best negotiation strategies?
Our Baby
No, I'm not pregnant. We're not getting a dog either. I'm talking about our new relationship that is now just about a week old.
I've been thinking a lot about what C said in my last session about creating a space in which there are only the two of us. I spent a lot of time this weekend reading The Good Marriage and thinking about how a relationship needs to be nurtured and protected. It's a seriously brutal world out there for people just trying to make it as a couple. With all of the distorted images of what love is, it's challenging to unearth the truth about it and continually resist those ingrained cultural pressures to have a relationship look a certain way.
SCL hasn't told anyone about our getting back together. In the past I think this would have annoyed the hell out of me, but he said, "I want to wait until we've been back together for a little while. I don't want to feel like I have to defend our relationship to anyone." SCL is generally a more private person, so I think it's easier for him to keep things to himself. I've begun telling a few of my friends just because I need to process it, but likewise I'm quite cautious about whom I tell. I'm also not willing to be in a position in which I feel I have to defend my decision to give him a second chance.
Right now we both need to nurture and protect this baby of ours, this new infant relationship. We need to give it lots of care, reassure it, calm it when anxiety runs high.
When I got back from the airport, I was completely frazzled, not just from the exhaustion of traveling, but also from a turbulent flight in which I was seated next to a frightened passenger whom I reassured and then a very delayed, very crowded Metro ride back. I was feeling irritable and cranky until I walked in the door and there were beautiful flowers waiting there for me.
Sweet reassurance.
Stuck in a Feeling
And I can't get out of it. Just yet anyway.
After nearly two weeks of not seeing each other, SCL stayed at our apartment on Thursday. He came home much earlier than I was expecting (around 5:30), and it caught me off guard. I'd made plans for later that evening and had anticipated being gone when he got there.
It was the most awkward moment we've shared since the break-up. I didn't want to talk to him. I was still feeling really furious about everything, and wanted him to know that I wasn't interested in continuing to be the understanding, compassionate dumpee I'd been in weeks past.
Eventually, I came out of my room to talk with him, see how he'd been, catch up. It was pretty surface level stuff for the most part, but then I started to tell him how angry I was about how he was disrupting my life and couldn't even give me a reason why. He said he was sorry. He looked absolutely miserable, almost in physical pain as I told him how I'd been hurting. Even though I'm pissed that he broke up with me, I do know that he hates how he has caused me such pain.
I'm still confused about how, if at all, he can be part of my life. Certainly it's easier when I don't see him for long stretches of time. And when we are together, my feelings about things shift. I still haven't gotten an answer from him about why he broke up with me, and part of me thinks that's for one of a few reasons:
- He doesn't know, in which case why would he break-up with me if he didn't know why.
- It's too bad for him to tell me.
- There really was no substantive reason.
He told me that he's trying to change, but he's not sure he can. I told him, "Of course you can. You know you want to change; that's a huge step. And then you just do it everyday." Not rocket science. The fact that he recognizes that he needs to change gave me a dangerous, intoxicating little spark of hope that I hadn't felt in a while. If he sees his mistakes and he wants to change and he's really trying to change, maybe he can and maybe then he'll want to try again.
Sigh. I'm stuck in this false sense of hope, and I feel I can't get out of it.
I don't get it. Why is it easier for him to affirm me, to tell me how special I am, to tell me what a wonderful person I am now that he's not in a relationship with me? Was the relationship a barrier to him actually seeing me as I am? Or is that he now realizes that he should have been expressing it all along and finally he's committed to actually communicating both the positive and the negative?
I sense his regret, and it saddens me. Why does he think he has to work on this apart from me? Just because he has issues doesn't mean he can't work through them with me. I don't understand his need to separate himself when I'm perfectly willing to walk beside him through the process. Why would anyone throw that kind of commitment away?
I feel stuck. I want to get out, but I don't know how.
Musings on Midterm Season
I've noticed that SCL and I have much different conversations when we have a meal out of the apartment. It's not so much the difference in food--or the fact that we don't have to prepare it ourselves--but rather the atmosphere. I wouldn't say that they're better or worse, but they're different. We discuss different things--"date" things, I guess.
Yesterday I desperately wanted to get out of the apartment, so we went out to lunch, planning to work after we finished eating. SCL has an important stats exam this Wednesday, and I seem to be getting farther and farther behind in my own work. Before our food got there, he began talking about this test and how he's worried he won't do well. I can understand this to an extent--don't we all get nervous when we have a test coming up?--but SCL getting nervous over a math test? He's off the charts when it comes to his brains and capacity to do well academically. It's hard for me not to just to brush these comments off, so I have to be diligent in understanding what's causing him the worry.
What I'm learning is that being a PhD student is scary as hell. There's a lot on the line--time, money, investment of one's self, delaying one's career 5 or so years. And there's no guarantee that a job will be waiting for you at the end of it. Of course, this leaves me wondering why anyone in his/her right mind would do one, but we're past that point. This is what SCL wants to do, what he knows is the best career move right now, and he's got a long road ahead.
He started explaining the process to me more. Next spring he'll take his first comp exam, the smaller of the two (I'm guessing on less information than the other). If/when he passes, he'll move on to the larger exam in the fall of that year. At the same time he'll be expected to be working on a prospectus, a relatively short (50-60 pages) write up of his research plan. If all goes according to plan, he'll defend this in the spring of 2012. Once he does this, he'll move into research and writing with a goal of finishing sometime in 2014 or 2015. There are many hoops to jump throw between now and then.
It's also scary as hell to be partnered with someone going through this process because all of his fears, his anxieties, his worries, his doubts--they're mine too. This timeline is all theoretical. What about the things in our life that we're putting off now like marriage and a family. When will they fit into the picture? Neither of us has the answers, and there's no sign that it's going to get any less murky anytime soon. He has to take the program one class, one requirement, one step at a time.
At the end of this, I think I'm going to insist on my own diploma, too.
Four Weddings and an Ordination
I've declared 2010 the Year of Weddings. I went through another of these right when I graduated from college (crazy kids who got married right after schoo!), and looks like year will be even crazier. SCL and I have been invited to four so far this year, two of which are less than a week apart and two time zones away from each other. And one of our friends is not only getting married, but also ordained as a minister! Needless to say, we've got quite a bit of travel planned for this summer and fall. Here's our current timeline:
End of March: Ordination in Philadelphia, PA
Mid-July: Wedding in New Haven, CT
Beginning of August: Wedding in Savannah, GA
Mid-August: Wedding in Denver, CO
Mid-October: Wedding in Philadelphia, PA
We are so excited for our friends and plan to attend all of these events, which is going to mean some serious extra costs, especially when we'll have to fly to Savannah and Denver. And, I've already stated that I hate the drive to CT up I-95 and would prefer not to drive, even though it would be cheaper.
Given the extra costs, we're trying to plan ahead so as not to be caught off-guard when these dates start approaching.
- Since we've been so on target with budgeting, we actually have a little excess, which we've now put into a joint savings account. It's a great start!
- As I wrote yesterday, I'm going to put a few hundred dollars into this savings account each month. It's nice to be able to do that!
- We're thinking of creative ways to get there. For example, we're considering taking the Bolt Bus to New York and then taking the local train to New Haven rather than taking Amtrak. Not quite as convenient but better than driving ourselves and much cheaper.
- Staying with friends. Let me say I am for the most part beyond sleeping on people's couches. Sorry, at some point I became a grown up, and I want to be well-rested for my friends' special days! But we also have friends with guest rooms, and I'm going to contact them early about having us stay. Hotels can be nice, but they're expensive. And besides that, it's more fun to stay with friends!
- Staying fewer nights. A lot of these places are not too hard to get to and from, and even if it makes it an early morning or a late night, we might think about staying just one night if possible. I like sleeping in my own bed anyway.
I'm hoping that we might be able to make one of these trips more like a vacation (one of our goals as a couple is to take a trip together every year.) Maybe we'll splurge on a nicer place in one of the cities. But for the most part, this'll be an experiment in balancing frugal but relatively comfortable traveling.
Partners, but not (financial) equals?
My income has changed immensely at three distinct points in the past two years, and it's required a lot of adjusting on my part. The first one was expected: I was done with my schooling and had begun a fellowship with a decent salary. All of a sudden I had money in the bank...and then loans to pay off. I did the hard work of building up an emergency fund and paying off as much of my debt as I could each month. And I still had plenty of wiggle room to treat myself with the occasional new pair (or two) of shoes from DSW.
Just when I'd gotten accustomed to my financial situation, my fellowship was ending and I was back on the job hunt, this time in DC. What everyone warned me about was true: expect higher living expenses and a much lower salary. That was exactly what I got. When I finally got a job offer, I was thrilled until they offered me $10K less than what I was currently making. I did my best to negotiate, hoping they'd meet me at least halfway but they didn't. I got a measly $3K more than they'd originally offered me, and panic set in.
How was I going to live this way? I had debts to pay off and a relatively expensive share of rent to pay each month. I felt grateful to have SCL as a partner because he's careful with money. Living on a student stipend, he wasn't going to have much wiggle room either, and together we came up with a reasonable budget for shared expenses that has worked fantastically for the most part. Given my lower salary and my mandatory debt payments, we were (sadly, to me) making fairly close to the same amount each month.
As you all know, that job didn't last long for a number of reasons--including the low salary, as well as just generally disliking my position. When I was interviewing for this current position, I knew what the salary would be--a little under $20K more than I made at my first job in DC. Another huge financial shift.
I think we all can agree that making more money is really nice and helpful, but for me it was also a little daunting. What do I do with this extra money? And I began to think about how SCL and I were splitting things equally. Is that "right" or fair? Should I be paying more now that I'm making more? Would SCL be comfortable with that?
This is still something we're working through, and it'll continue to be an issue while he's in school and I'm (presumably...hopefully!) making more than he is. I waver between wanting to be really generous and knowing that this job is only for a year and wanting to invest this extra money wisely.
Here's one way I hope to be a bit more generous. SCL and I have been invited to at least three weddings in 2010, two of which aren't that close and one that'll require us flying there. Knowing that he doesn't have a lot of extra cash, I'm going to start putting away a little extra each month into a travel fund, so that when it comes time for us to make arrangements, we'll have that to offset the extra costs of attending these weddings.
How do you handle financial inequality?
An Unexpected Dinner Guest
Last night I was supposed to meet a friend visiting from Boston and another DC friend after dinner. But at about 6:00 I get a call from Boston friend that she's been in the city all day, is tired, and would really like to meet up earlier. Without missing a beat I invited her to come over to our apartment for dinner. "We're making pizza! We have wine!" Great. She was on her way.
As soon as we hung up, I though, oh crap. What if SCL doesn't really want my random friend coming over right now? He had been spending most of the day trying to update my laptop's operating system. When I told him about my conversation, we debated over what to do food-wise. We'd only been planning to make dinner for ourselves, so we'd only defrosted enough dough and cheese for one pizza. Should we make two? Make a salad? We decided on a second crust, which SCL promptly defrosted and starting rolling out.
"What kind of pizza do you want to make?" he asked. "We can make pepperoni, sausage, barbecue chicken, pesto chicken..." I figured I'd better call Boston friend to ask what she'd prefer. I felt so awesome, having all of these delicious options for her. And then she says: "I can't have pizza. I'm gluten-free."
CRAP. Not only have I invited someone to dinner at the last second, but now I have to tell SCL that she's gluten free and we really didn't need that second crust defrosted or rolled out. "Can you re-frost a crust?" I asked. "We'll find out," he said, rolling his eyes a little. He wanted to know if her being gluten-free was health-related or a lifestyle choice. If the latter, he said he would tolerate but not approve--to which I responded "Would anyone really give up bread if they didn't have to?"
Now we're scrambling to find something for Boston gluten-free friend to eat. Oh yeah, we bought this huge pack of crackers from Costco, which happen to be gluten-free (and therefore pretty disgusting...and we now have a lot of them!) We had veggies, hummus, and other non-wheaty things. It was going to be alright after all.
Friend arrives. She eats the veggies, hummus, and crackers. We have wine. We catch up. SCL quietly and graciously does the host thing. I am very grateful.
Having a partner who doesn't get mad when plans change at the last second, who doesn't get too irritated when those new plans change again, and who steps us as host for a dinner he didn't plan to serve--he's pretty much the best. Ever.
As soon as we hung up, I though, oh crap. What if SCL doesn't really want my random friend coming over right now? He had been spending most of the day trying to update my laptop's operating system. When I told him about my conversation, we debated over what to do food-wise. We'd only been planning to make dinner for ourselves, so we'd only defrosted enough dough and cheese for one pizza. Should we make two? Make a salad? We decided on a second crust, which SCL promptly defrosted and starting rolling out.
"What kind of pizza do you want to make?" he asked. "We can make pepperoni, sausage, barbecue chicken, pesto chicken..." I figured I'd better call Boston friend to ask what she'd prefer. I felt so awesome, having all of these delicious options for her. And then she says: "I can't have pizza. I'm gluten-free."
CRAP. Not only have I invited someone to dinner at the last second, but now I have to tell SCL that she's gluten free and we really didn't need that second crust defrosted or rolled out. "Can you re-frost a crust?" I asked. "We'll find out," he said, rolling his eyes a little. He wanted to know if her being gluten-free was health-related or a lifestyle choice. If the latter, he said he would tolerate but not approve--to which I responded "Would anyone really give up bread if they didn't have to?"
Now we're scrambling to find something for Boston gluten-free friend to eat. Oh yeah, we bought this huge pack of crackers from Costco, which happen to be gluten-free (and therefore pretty disgusting...and we now have a lot of them!) We had veggies, hummus, and other non-wheaty things. It was going to be alright after all.
Friend arrives. She eats the veggies, hummus, and crackers. We have wine. We catch up. SCL quietly and graciously does the host thing. I am very grateful.
Having a partner who doesn't get mad when plans change at the last second, who doesn't get too irritated when those new plans change again, and who steps us as host for a dinner he didn't plan to serve--he's pretty much the best. Ever.
Valentine's Day Recap
As a general rule, SCL and I dislike romantic cliches, especially when it comes to Valentine's Day. No roses or sappy cards in our house. I like to think that we're a bit more creative in that department, so here's a recap of what our day looked like.SCL was out of town for a conference the three days before V-Day, so I took the time to really clean our apart
ment from top to bottom. Then I braved the great outdoors to get some place mats, napkins, and a few other things to spruce up our apartment. Since moving in last July, we really haven't spent any money to make it feel homey, and I thought since we were making a delicious dinner for Valentine's Day, it would be a nice touch to add some love to our old, rickety, hand-me-down table.Gift wise, we kept it non-traditional and went for things for the both of us rather than specific gifts for one another. SCL bought us tickets to see Chelsea Handler in March. This is my favorite kind of gift--time together doing something fun, something we wouldn't do as a regular date. And I bought us some kitchen things we didn't have, including (my favorite) a salad spinner! We love cooking, and having a few more of the right tools will hopefully make it even more enjoyable.
And dinner! This is something to write home about. We--really SCL--made the most delicious dinner of all time. We decided to make steak, which we made last year, but this time we took it to a new level of awesome. We got up early and hit up Costco for filet mignon (only $9.99 a pound there!) The price made it worth standing in line for about 30 minutes to check out. I don't know what it is about this Costco, but whenever we go, it's a total nightmare.
SCL prepared the steak with garlic butter, wrapped it in bacon, and served it with caramelized onions. We made more onions on the side, a simple salad, and fresh bread with more garlic butter. And, our favorite wine from Trader Joe's. Turned on the cheesy "Love Songs" channel on the TV and had a romantic, delicious dinner.
I'm a big proponent of spending Valentine's Day at home. Restaurants are nice, but they're crowded, expensive, and (hello!) cliche on V-Day. For a lot less cash, we made a delicious dinner together and got to enjoy it in our sweatpants, in our cozy apartment. We splurged on a food we normally don't buy, but we only spent $20! (We got four steaks and had them again yesterday.)What do you think? Do you like going out for Valentine's Day? Or do you prefer dinner at home?
Finals Time
Finishing up his first semester as a PhD student, SCL is swamped with papers, papers, and more papers. Who knew that someone could give you a final that lasts THREE DAYS LONG? Doesn't that seem like cruel and unusual punishment? Good news is that he's got two finals under his belt and is working on part 2 of his 3-essay exam for his final course. Come Saturday, he'll be free!
Honestly, I can't say that this season of finals has been any different than the ones SCL had last year when he was finishing up his masters. At least from my side of things, that is. He's not someone who gets super-duper stressed out over work. He's pretty disciplined, scheduled, and just knocks out the work.
A few things that we've encountered that I'd like to reflect on...
- Housework. Sometimes I'm a baby about this. I forget that there are times when SCL really picks up the slack for me. I usually forget this when I'm picking up the slack for him. I just got to get over this--and remember that at least in this case, I was doing heavy duty cleaning for a party that I was throwing. Get over yourself, G-S GF!
- Sleeping. I've been going to bed alone at night while SCL stays up to do work. This has interrupted our sleeping pattern a bit, so I'm looking forward to the nights when we go to bed at the same time. SCL, however, has perfected the art of getting into the room and into bed without making a single solitary sound and rarely wakes me. I, on the other hand, have perfected the art of laying in the exact middle of the bed, preventing my bed buddy from getting his equal share of pillow, covers, and mattress.
- Conversation. "What'd you do today?" "Studied/worked on exams/read boring books." Not much else going on for SCL these days. Of course, that leaves more room to talk about my new job (!!!)
- Dinner. It's been Trader Joe's city for us. We've also been going out more than usual, but now that I'll be working from home (!!!) I'll have a lot more time to do domestic things in the new year.
All in all, it's been a fairly painless exam time for me. I can't speak for SCL, but he seems to be on top of things and doing a great job. I'm glad this isn't how it is all the time, but I also feel better knowing this isn't going to be as horrible as I predicted.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)