My friend texted me a photo of these cute dragon/dinosaur taco stands she saw on Amazon, and…
Last week I went on vacation and stayed with a friend and her husband for part of the trip. My friend came down with a cold while I was there, and her lovely, amazing husband went out and brought her an assortment of cold meds, and when he realized he forgot something, went BACK out to get that as well.
So obviously now *I* have a cold, and I’m lookin’ around and it’s just me and Jesus in the house, and oddly, Jesus is shit at errands, so if I want drugs, I have to pull my 90-lb. skull off this pillow and go get them myself.
I see now that this is basically the ONLY reason to be in a relationship. A nice man is going to bring me wonton soup, but I don’t think he’s legally permitted to bring me Sudafed.
Right, then. So as soon as I get back from CVS, I’m gonna answer ALL the OkCupid messages, and hell, maybe sign up for Match, too.
“So, how did you two meet?”
“Well, it all began that day I needed a pharmacy minion…”
This was Facebook’s suggested post for me today, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m-a go find me a window to jump out of. Not because I’m dying alone, I’m fine with that, but because this bullshit exists.
I had FaceTime therapy this morning because technology is wonderful, but now I have to, like…think about things? Like, what I…want from my life? Specifically re: relationships.
Um, isn’t that what I pay YOU for? You have a degree in Life. I have a degree in radio journalism. You tell me what to do, I announce it in the fancy news voice that belies my shitty Philly accent.
Get on that jawn, yo. I’ll be over here eating Brownie Brittle for breakfast. Report back.
Today I had therapy, and we ended up with an exciting basis for NEXT week’s session, where we’re going to dive deeper into how 40+ years of coddling and condescension from everyone in my family could perhaps make me constantly doubt my capabilities as an adult, and affect my self-worth in all areas of life.
Awesome. Great. I’m SO glad I did this. 🙄
(I am, but…Christ. Originally I just went to therapy for some Breakup Krazy Glue, but ended up shattered six ways to Sunday. At least when my therapist starts writing groundbreaking articles about family insanity, maybe I’ll get royalties.)
(By the way, I am STILL very much on Team “Whatever Your Family Did, You’re an Adult, Handle Your Shit.*” But it turns out I just need some strategies to make that work as more than just bluster.)
(*Unless your family was LEGIT awful and not just underminey, in which case, obviously, you have the right.)
(Part of my damage is minimizing my damage because so many people have much worse damage.)
Part of why I’m OK being single (for the most part*), and part of why I’m in therapy, is the relationships I see in my family. I realize I can only go by what I see, but what I see is people who would rather be kind of…dulled and resentful in a relationship than be alone. Especially my mother and sister, I really don’t hear them LIKING their spouses. I’m often their sounding board for all their relationship “squabbles” that to me sound like much larger issues, and that was BEFORE I started therapy.
(* Not even gonna front — I’d really enjoy some sex, and I have a big, heavy mirror I can’t lift, so I could use some assistance there. But otherwise, I’m aight.)
Anyway. All this to say that I’m grateful for the men I know, and for the relationships I’ve had. Because I’ve never dated anyone shitty for more than a couple months, and I was quickly able to see, “Oh, you’re shitty. We’re done here.” I’ve never had to prattle on for an hour straight about all the things my boyfriend doesn’t do to my liking, or found myself unable to address issues WITH a boyfriend and have him at least try to understand. And I think that’s partly because I KNOW there ARE decent dudes out there. I’ve dated them, I’ve worked with them, my friends have married them. And I’m (mostly*) fine being alone until one arrives in my life.
It’s been kind of a shit year for men, and rightly so, but hey, here’s to the good ones, eh?🍸
I’ve been meaning to get into the Big Family Dynamics discussion with my therapist, but we keep getting sidetracked by current issues. Today I mentioned that to her and said, “But somehow I think tonight’s hour-long discussion of my insecurities and relationship issues probably gave you some useful information about my family history.”
And her response was, “Oh, yeah. Any time we talk about your relationships, we’re talkin’ about your dad.”
Apparently it takes me 5 years and 3 apartments to finally ovary up and get rid of my Ex Box.
I’d gotten rid of other things incrementally, but this was the greeting cards, and I am a sucker for a greeting card.
I’m still crying, but it’s done.
I am woman. Roar, etc.
*sniff* Shut up.