i want your everything as long as it's free
by Stace on March 29th, 2010
filed under let me entertain you, pretty things
i want your drama, the touch of your hand… i want your love… love, love, love, i want your love… – Lady Gaga, “Bad Romance”
Does anyone else think Lady Gaga had watched one too many episodes of cheesy teen “dramas” a la One Tree Hill before writing this song? This is my favorite of all her songs, but I always have this thought when it’s on. If no one else gets it, I’m content with this just being my own little joke with myself.
The reason I criticize shows like One Tree Hill (which I’ve seen one time too many thanks to a few girlfriends and my mom) is because of the way they depict “romance.” If that’s what they think love is like, frankly, I’ll pass. It’s utter rubbish. It’s fighting, contrived breakups, manipulation, and over-the-top, sickly sweet declarations of love that are almost always profusely peppered with one’s full name. That tactic, specifically, grosses me out. Does anyone in the “real world” actually do this? (Please, God, tell me the answer is no!)
I’m horrified to discover it’s not just crap like OTH that does this. This morning, while lounging around, enjoying the last sleeping-in morning of my dwindling spring break, I had Sex and the City on my TV (no surprise – it’s one of my faves). Much to my horror, I stopped in mid-type when I heard Trey say “Charlotte York MacDougal…” to which she, of course, cooed “yes, Trey MacDougal” in response. Can you hear me gagging?! Say it ain’t so!! Not on my beloved SATC! Then again, I guess the point might simply be that Trey and Charlotte’s relationship was cheesy and unrealistic, and perhaps the writers subtly use this ridiculous kind of dialogue to punctuate this idea? Maybe they were intentionally inducing an “ick” moment as a kind of foreshadow to the lack of actual substance the relationship would turn out to have? That it was all fluff and pretty words, and not much else? I hope so, anyway.
If anyone reading this finds this kind of over-the-top, ooey gooey romantic stuff attractive, you gotta tell me. I’m dying to find the perspective, because it must exist. (Otherwise it wouldn’t be able to continually resurface, even in jest.) I am certain there must be women somewhere who sigh every time they see a scene like this on a TV show (it doesn’t happen in our actual lives, does it? I pray not), but…I just don’t know any of them.
I just noticed that this post feels a lot like the sentiment I feel about Valentine’s day. See, I don’t have anything against this so-called “holiday” in particular. I don’t have anything against romance. It’s contrived “romance” I take issue with. As far as I’m concerned, romance by definition requires effort: thought and/or work of some kind. You have to actually take the time to get to know (at least a little personal something about) the person you’re trying to impress, and insincere one-size-fits-all crap like candy, teddy bears, and (dare I say it) long-stemmed red roses are just…predictable. Next!
My best friend once said that she’d be happy if a guy would pick her a handful of weeds over a pre-packaged bouquet. That was years ago, and I’ve never forgotten it. I couldn’t have said it better myself. The point is, I don’t think there’s much romance in any “romantic” store-bought item. These silly scenes that irked me up into a blogging lather are the television equivalent of prefabricated cheese. That said, as I was alluding to, there must be some women out there, somewhere, (maybe men too?) who enjoy this kind of thing. (Else, how could they continually make their way onto the air?) If this is true, I guess it’s romantic to make such big silly statements…since I already proclaim that in order to properly romance someone we have to know a little about what s/he likes. In that case…by all means. Just, if you don’t mind, make sure I’m out of earshot. There’s a chance I might retch if I ever hear this live and in person.
The last thing I’m gonna say about the subject (hopefully forever, as I’m starting to feel I need to leave the poor horse alone – it’s dead or dying) is this: I can only speak for me. But any time anyone uses my entire name (including middle name, since my “maiden” name is the only one I have, at least for the foreseeable future), I don’t swoon. I just think I’m in trouble…
i want your love and all your lover’s revenge, you and me could write a bad romance…
when your day is night alone
by Stace on February 21st, 2010
filed under pretty things
if you’re on your own in this life, the days and nights are long… when you think you’ve had too much of this life to hang on… – REM, “Everybody Hurts”
I ran into Doc’s (soon-to-be) ex-wife today. I guess it was bound to happen, sooner or later. It’s a small town. Turns out, my new next-door-neighbor is her current dogsitter. Who knew? Anyway, I’ve been trying to call her. If I explained my reasons why, you’d get lost in the details. Suffice it to say that I’m trying to stay as “neutral” as possible in this conversation, but there’s a chance she might have something that doesn’t belong to her that was always supposed to be mine someday. So, I’ve tried calling her twice. It rings about 8 times and then doesn’t go to voice mail. I get some message saying something about “the subscriber you’re trying to reach is not available.” I guess I thought maybe she blocked my number.
That’s exactly what I asked her today. She said no, of course not. She’s having a problem with her phone. It doesn’t go to voice mail, and she can’t figure out how to fix it. (By the way, don’t forget, Doc isn’t the only one who’s been a near-parental figure in my life for more than 2 decades. Though I clearly and understandably am 100% on his side/in his corner, I still have a relationship with this woman, too – like it or not.) Anyway, when I tried to ask her reasonably if she might have accidentally taken something she shouldn’t have, she flipped quickly to defensive and hurt. It put me on the defensive, as though I was out of line in some kind of accusation that, frankly, I just wasn’t making. She started to cry and said all kinds of bizarre things about how Doc wasn’t telling anyone the truth, and I just wanted to go to her and huge her. I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “are you okay?” to which she answered (obviously), “no.”
She seems to think we “all” demonize her as monster. It isn’t true. She’s been pretty reprehensible as of late in my mind, I’ll admit, but it doesn’t suddenly make me devoid of all positive feelings I ever had for her. I guess I can even go a step further and admit I do kind of wish it did – it’d make things like this a whole hell of a lot easier. The fact of the matter is, she tugged at my heart strings today. It unnerved me completely. She was a freaking mess, but not in the “I-just-left-my-husband-this-is-a-tough-time-for-me” way… in a way that just felt all wrong. She looks awful, like she hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in months, and I asked her to talk to Doc (they need to still work some things out, even if they’re not gonna work things out). She said, “I already tried that.” When I asked her, “when?!” she only would say “for the last 20 years!” which is a bloody cop-out. I meant now, like a grown-up, about the end. There’s not much reasoning with her.
I just wish it hadn’t rattled me as much as it did. I guess I wish I could pretend I have no emotional attachment to her whatsoever. This whole thing would be easier on me if that were true, and save one other moment at Christmas, I’ve mostly been able to go along as though that were, in fact, the case. But dammit, I guess I’m more human than that. I do care about her, and it killed me to see what she’s going through. She needs some help, and I’m actually pretty worried about her. (Also today, of interest, she called Doc’s sister in SoCal and literally had her convinced that she should get on a plane as Doc might be suicidal – it just flat out isn’t true. It couldn’t be further from the truth.) I guess she emailed him about a week ago. He says it was about a page-long email that was all one sentence – no punctation at all. The whole thing freaked him out, and he’s back to losing sleep. This, of course, has me worried about him, in turn, and the whole thing’s a mess again. Just when I think he’s made such great strides, it rears it’s head in the ugliest way imaginable. Ugh.
I have a midterm and a paper due this week. Instead of studying, I couldn’t concentrate. I had dinner with my dad instead. He asked me what I was in the mood for and all I could tell him was, “a big ol’ drink.” He brought me fantastic Italian takeout and a yummy glass of red. Now my day is over… Thank God for small things.
well, everybody hurts sometimes… everybody cries… and everybody hurts sometimes…
and you gave me nothin' in return…
by Stace on February 1st, 2010
filed under pretty things
it was plain to see that a small town boy like me just wasn’t your cup of tea, i was wishful thinkin’… i gave you my heart, and i tried to make you happy… and you gave me nothin’ in return… you know it ain’t so hard to say, ‘would you please just go away?’ – “Sail On,” The Commodores
Sundays are one of my days off. I had planned to spend today getting stuff done around the house (laundry, cleaning, yoga/pilates, homework) and then pop some corn and bust out the bubbles for the Grammys. But that’s not exactly what I ended up doing with my evening. Yes, I got my place in order, and before sitting down to read, I was halfway through said yoga/pilates when my phone rang – Doc. Duty calls.
The minute I picked up the phone, I knew it was bad. Usually we make plans to have dinner or watch a game together, or both. It’s been nearly two months since his wife emailed him asking for a divorce. Let me say that again, since last time I got all this off my chest I wasn’t so clear: she emailed him that she wanted a divorce. Seriously, who does that? Especially after two and a half decades?! Wow. But since then, every single time I think, well, that’s the lowest she could possibly go, she proves me wrong. The woman is utterly despicable. I try so hard to stay positive, but when thinking about her, the only positive is that she’s gone.
And gone she is. Doc finally filed papers because he was tired of hanging in the balance. She wanted to file for legal separation and stay on his medical insurance. She also wanted to keep the house, even though she was the one who was asking for a divorce and wanted to “move on with her life,” whatever that might mean. Because Doc is a professional with a career to keep in mind, he was worried what would happen if he left the filing to her. Basically, he didn’t trust her not to bad-mouth him, and if he chose to be the one to file, she could boo-hoo to her friends, but not on a public document. So, “irreconcilable differences” it is. Problem (somewhat) solved.
Also, her grown children have been living with them off and on for some time. She has a married son in his late 20s who, along with wife and baby, spend a night or two a week at Doc’s house. She has another son in his mid-30s who’s been living with them, too, since he and his wife split a year ago. Recently, someone told Doc they’d all be out by February 1st. Tonight, when he called, he said he came home to an empty house. I wish he hadn’t meant it quite so literally. When I got there, there was a note saying (among other things), that California is a “50/50 state” and she had taken pictures, and she was “taking the high road,” and would appreciate it if he’d do the same. (I think if she’s on any high road, she missed the exit she needed – Crazy Street. Or else maybe she’s been smoking with her boys? I don’t know, but I don’t get how she thinks she’s taking the high road. I honestly think that she only knows it to be something the people on TV say.)
When he called me and said he’d come home to “no furniture,” I admit I thought he was exaggerating. And then I walked in the door. Other than her ridiculous note and a ton of trash, there wasn’t much left. A random loveseat and matching couch, one (of a set of two) chair, and a few end tables and lamps. Everything in his bedroom was still where he’d left it, but probably only because they’ve been living in separate bedrooms – hers is empty. The place is a mess. I just can’t believe how quickly this all came down. It’s horrifying, and I hate to see a man so dear to me go through this. I don’t think I have ever seen him cry before tonight, and a girl should never have to hold a father figure while he weeps. I’m happy to be able to be here for him, but I hope I never see this woman again in my life. I just can’t believe what she is capable of.
There are bright sides, of course. Doc and I both think that she’s off somewhere having a glass and a giggle at sticking it to him, but… she said it herself: California’s a 50/50 state. You took all the furniture. He’s going to have to replace it, and now he can buy anything he fancies. But when it comes time for the judge to formally divide their assets, does she not realize she’s going to owe him for half of all that stuff she took? It’s fine that she just decided what’s hers was hers, but it’s not coming for free. Also, now Doc can have the house scrubbed top to bottom and not worry anymore about anyone trashing it. He can have a house he’s really proud of, and increase its value. We both think she thinks the judge will give her the house in the settlement and she can move her children back in. This might be true, but she’s going to have to come up with his half of what it’s worth…and she doesn’t have it (on the other hand, he could buy her out if it came to that).
Who knows what’ll happen. I hope they find a way to end this as swiftly as possible, so he can just move on with his life. Every day he’s away from her promises to be a good one, and he knows it. Problem is, he’s been in this relationship all these years thinking they were pretty happy. He beats himself up for being sad that he’s lost her. I understand that, but it’s natural he would feel that way. Thankfully, the way she’s treated him in all of this has made it increasingly easy for him to allow himself the temporary anger to deal with the hurt. When I left him this evening, he was already (albeit briefly, I’m sure) in a state of excitement about the possibilities to come in his life.
The Grammys await me via my DVR. If there’s anything worth writing about, it’ll come tomorrow…obviously, some things are just more important.
time after time i tried to hold on to what we got, but now you’re goin’… and i don’t mind about the things you’re gonna say, lord… i know it’s a shame, but i’m givin’ you back your name… guess i’ll be on my way… i won’t be back to say…
don't forget and don't be late…
by Stace on January 29th, 2010
filed under pretty things
don’t forget our monday date… that you promised me last tuesday… – Louis Armstrong, “My Monday Date”
It should surprise no one that yet another blog post is devoted to the works of Greg Behrendt. See, it all started with that “he’s just not that into you” episode of Sex and the City. As I think everyone knows, that episode begat the book which begat the movie. I hadn’t gotten around to reading the book, so I decided to buy it as an audiobook and listen to it on my commute to & from school last year. I didn’t know at the time that it was GB narrating his own book. I didn’t realize it until later, but the fact that it was actually Greg reading the material and not some random actor has a lot to do with the way I responded to the material. I say this because Greg’s got his own brand of tough love that I completely relate to – he doesn’t pull any punches, but it comes from a place of compassion, from wanting the best for others. (If you know me, this might start to sound a little familiar.) I have heard of people thinking Greg’s “he’s just not that into you” philosophy is a little harsh, but being able to listen to Greg’s tone of voice made it clear that he wasn’t speaking from a place of being a blunt prick. He genuinely doesn’t want to see people “wasting the pretty,” as he calls it. He wants people to be happy with people that actually give a shit about them. I love it. It simplifies. It’s liberating. I was grateful. And I was hooked.
Since then, I’ve had the chance to see him live a few times & chat with him a little. I now own both of his DVDs and all of his books – which leads me to the topic at hand. I just finished It’s Just a Date, which was co-written with Amiira, GB’s wife. The premise is pretty simple: relationships not working? Do it right – do it old school. They argue (again, if you know me, this is gonna sound eerily familiar) that the reason people are unhappy/settle/break up is because we rush into something without really getting to know a person beforehand. The concept of “dating” today means something entirely different than it did 50 (or even 20) years ago.
According to Greg & Amiira, this is because we’ve confused everything by casual sex and “hanging out.” They make it pretty clear that they’re all about sex, but that they believe things should happen in a natural order, a specific progression, if you’re seriously looking for someone with whom you might consider spending any real length of time (the rest of your life or otherwise). So what does dating really mean? Truth be told, this book reads like The Rules for the 21st century! (I mean that as a compliment.)
The first half of the book basically breaks down what isn’t working in our current “system” of ideals. Why “hanging out” is ambiguous, why it’s okay to be up front and specific that you’re the kind of girl that goes on dates but doesn’t just hang out. The idea of this section of the book is to just get you to admit that what you’ve been doing has gotten you nowhere, and maybe open you up to their idea. And honestly, it makes a lot of sense. (But then again…I usually buy what Greg’s selling.)
The second half gets even more interesting…it’s something of a step-by-step process of what dates should look like, from how to attract them, how to behave on them, how to get a second, what not to do on the first date (for example: they do want you to kiss on a first date; they don’t recommend sex until you’re both ready), etc, etc. I just stopped myself from typing the words “it’s really all common sense, but…” – see, unfortunately, common sense has stopped being so common. I hate to say that, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Still, what Greg and Amiira are proposing makes sense. In fact, she uses their own relationship as an example: “So we dated, the old-fashioned way. He called ahead, asked me out, plans were made, and we went on dates. We also dated other people while dating each other. There was no hopping in the sack, no racing to lock it down, no panic about what the other was thinking, feeling, doing. Then one day he said something mind-blowing, ‘I’m not going to date other people. I only want to go out with you but I don’t expect you to do the same until you’re ready to.’ What?! Who the hell is this guy who is going to stop dating other people but not demand I do the same? So we continued dating and soon after I came to the same conclusion that he had… I didn’t want to date other people. So there we were as boyfriend and girlfriend because we both truly wanted to be that and had figured it out at our own pace. Revolutionary! Then shortly thereafter he says those three magic words followed by the even more magical words that I had never heard before, ‘I Love You. But you don’t have to say it back. You don’t have to be at the same place emotionally that I am but I know that I love you and I wanted you to know it.’ Holy crap!! Are you kidding me? Where did this alien creature come from that is so comfortable with his own feelings that he can allow me to have my own feelings?” Okay, I can’t quote the entire book. You get the idea.
It does feel simultaneously archaic and yet, as Amiira said, revolutionary. Okay, it’s not like any of this is all that new to me…I had basically come to this decision on my own, but it’s nice to read an entire book cheering me on. And, well, it worked for them. They’ve been happily married for 13 years, and I don’t know much about Amiira except that she’s held GB’s attention, and well…he’s downright fantastic. (Why else would I refer to the guy as my guru?)
I don’t have anything else to say except to encourage anyone else that might be ready for a change in the way s/he is dating. Give the book a shot or at least give the concept some thought. I for one kind of love the idea of making it clear what is and what isn’t a date. It eliminates all the guesswork. (And if you’ll forgive me for saying this…hooray for boundaries, too!) I’m all about getting to know lots of people as people, potential friends, whatever else they may become, and letting it grow organically. And yes, the idea of going on a real “old-fashioned” date even seems a little scary. Nervous butterflies scary. So? Is that such a bad thing? I think we’re fooling ourselves…I think that that stuff is half the fun, and we’re missing it. And you know what? They’re right. If it doesn’t go so well, or if (god forbid) you don’t hear back from the person you went out with or get asked for another date, what next? Go on another one. And another one. And another one! After all… “it’s just a f****ing date!!!”
i’m gonna shine my shoes, steam my tie… step right, baby, cause you’re straight in my eyes…
maybe he's no romeo…
by Stace on January 6th, 2010
filed under pretty things
let’s hear it for the boy! let’s hear give the boy a hand! let’s hear it for my baby…you know, you gotta understand… -Denise Williams, “Let’s Hear it for the Boy”
Why do we love this song? Is it because it always reminds us of the fabulously tacky 80s? Or is it Footloose itself? (Kevin Bacon, Sarah Jessica…) By the way, these questions aren’t rhetorical tonight – I’m actually asking! The reason I wonder is because I’ve always loved the song, and I’ve never given it much thought before. But lately, I swear to God, I’ve been hearing it in my head when a dear, beloved girlfriend starts talking about the ups and downs of her relationship with her boyfriend and…well, I don’t quite get why she stays with him! (In case you’re wondering, I’m not yet talking about any one specific girlfriend…I’ve had this experience with a few.)
I think it’s safe to say nearly all girls know that, while we treasure our girlfriends and girl talk, there’s a reason many women don’t tell their friends everything that happens between them and the man they’re currently seeing. What is the reason, you ask? It’s simple: if they bitch to the girls about something he did or said that hurt their feelings or pissed them off, their friends will always rally around them. It’s their job. Problem is, we often manage (one way or another) to smooth it over with the guy, and then it happens: your girlfriends aren’t quite as willing to forgive him for how he’s treated you as you’ve been. Is this because your friends want to hold grudges? Or maybe because they’re not blinded by the emotional rush that is love – that the extra degree of separation they have from your guy is what allows them to be all the more wary? It makes sense. How many times have we been in relationships where our girlfriends are there for us in the midst of some heinous (and silly) relational catastrophe, and then we “work it out” and forget all about whatever it was, and from then on, your friends never really get over it? Is it because our friends don’t want us to be happy? It can’t be. Is it because they’re jealous? That’s not likely, either.
When this happens, we have two choices: we can keep these things from our friends, or we can accept that telling them everything may taint the way they feel about our guys. Tough choice. Hint: pick option number one!! (Okay, you can keep little stupid fights from your friends. They don’t need to know that you guys bicker over whether to watch The Hangover or Ghosts of Girlfriends Past. I get that.) But if you’re not sure you should tell your friends about a fight because you’re worried how they’ll view your guy, pay attention. Your psyche is telling you something. This is an internal red flag. This is your way of shielding your guy (and yourself) from a friend’s criticism about him, and while that’s understandable, you need to be careful. We women usually value the opinions of others. In the case of my girlfriends, I want to hear it all. No matter how much it makes me squirm, I want to know what they think. Believe me, I’ve had those moments, too, where I’ve wanted to not tell a certain friend something that happened between me and a guy because I already know what she’s going to say. Wait a minute: see that? That’s my point. Don’t stop telling your girlfriends about important obstacles with your boyfriend just to avoid having to hear aloud what you’re already worrying about on your own.
As I’ve already said, I’m not saying we have to tell each other everything. We don’t. If that’s your thing, cool. I’m definitely more of the kind of person who tells my friends everything than one who holds back, and I believe I do it for my own good. But my point is just that we talk to each other in sort of an amateur psychoanalytic way, at least in my circle: the hope is that your friend will stay as objective as she can, and point out something to you that you hadn’t noticed (or at least said aloud) and help you solve the problem. Maybe the problem she’ll help you solve is the relationship you’re in. Girlfriends (well, make that any friends, and therapists, too) don’t exist to solve your problems for you – but good ones can help you see what isn’t working and figure out how to fix it. (And, girlfriends don’t usually charge us, and our shrinks usually frown on going for drinks!)
So, back to this song…looking up the lyrics, I find it pretty disturbing: Let’s Hear it for the Boy. What does he have going for him that makes her want to cheer? “He loves me, loves me, loves me, I know that he loves me anyway…” If this is, in fact, true, then I’m with her: let’s hear it for him! I just can’t help but notice that it seems like there isn’t much going for him, and yet she insists, “you know, you gotta understand.” It won’t be the first time my cynical world view has spoiled something otherwise sweet, simple, and romantic: I just view her as a woman in a relationship with an unromantic man who doesn’t talk (meaning she has to do all the work in trying to maintain communication and even conversation), doesn’t dress well, doesn’t have any money (I’m not advocating being a gold digger…I just don’t want to be the one to foot the bill every time), can’t sing, can’t bowl…okay, you get the idea. She does have fun with him, and I have to try not to read too much into it…but why, exactly, am I expected to cheer for this slouch? I don’t get it. Perhaps she should have confided in me more.
Less than two months ago, I blogged about the relationship issues of my friend Delores and her boyfriend Brian. Since then, I’ve told her I think she’s got something of an addiction to him. I understand why she loves him – he is amazing. He’s the kind of person you have to meet to appreciate. He’s a very special, very rare, very lovely soul…and he’s got a crippling depression. Delores wants more than anything for him to find a way out of the black hole that is his life when it takes hold. Problem is, he doesn’t really have the skills necessary to do this on his own. Her catch-34 is this: should she “help” him, thus allowing him to lean on her and not develop these skills? Or should she give him a dose of tough love, show him the door, and tell him he can come back any time if he manages to get some help and take control of his life? I trust my friend. I love her dearly. I support any decision she makes, even if I wouldn’t make it in my own life and not-so-secretly hope she will choose differently. This is a delicate situation. I have a relationship with Brian. Don’t forget, I once loved his twin brother, Brad. Somewhere shortly after their breakup, I decided I had to tell her that she was acting like a woman with an addiction. To my surprise, she agreed. But she keeps saying she can choose to be with him and be happy, or to leave him and be miserable, and that’s an easy choice. Except for the moments when she’s with him and miserable, which aren’t as infrequent as we both wish they were. It’s tough for her, and I know she missed him. They started hanging out here and there, and of course with increasing frequency, and then her dog died. The next thing I knew, she’d fallen back into a relationship of some kind. The fact of the matter is, Delores is a beautiful, smart, empathetic, amazing woman, and she’s going to do whatever the hell she wants. I think that’s as it should be. I just really hope that what she wants is to put herself first for a change. Granted, she and Brian are no longer involved in a cohabitational relationship. Her children have been told he’s across the country, and while it’s tough on all of them, it’s for the best that he not be in their daily lives until this is “figured out.” Furthermore, he admitted to having depression, which is a first. He also asked for help getting a doctor’s appointment so he could get medication. This makes me want to “give the boy a hand,” believe me. But there it is: I’m wary as hell of the whole thing. (And to be perfectly honest, I can’t decide if that makes me feel like a good friend who’s protective or an asshole who doesn’t trust her grown friends to make the right decisions for themselves.)
Tonight I met Emma for dinner, drinks & dessert. (She’s decided she’s indulged much too much lately and is starting a cleanse tomorrow, so it was a no-holds-barred dinner affair…the best kind! Dinner at Pizza Azzurro and fantastic apple empanadas for dessert at Zuzu….mmmm!) She and her “non,” Josh, have had it rocky lately. And they shouldn’t be, according to me. Yes, relationships are messy, and difficult. That’s life. But, this is such a new relationship, they aren’t even really calling it a relationship yet. They’ve technically been acquaintances since high school, and then Josh relocated halfway across the country for work. Ideally, he’ll be back as soon as he can and they can start this relationship they’ve been trying to build. This idea didn’t make me nervous until recently. My concern is how easy it is to project your perfect (and not entirely real) self to someone else when you have the benefit of long distance. Yes, they talk a lot on the phone, trying to make it as real as possible. But I’ve had the unfortunate experience more than once of witnessing Josh picking stupid fights. The first time she reported a fight to me, she told me she was concerned about what I’d think of him. Fair enough, we were still establishing the depth of our own friendship at the time (this was at least six months ago).
Since then, I’d like to say it hasn’t happened again. But not only is that not true, that first issue feels like the tip of the iceberg in comparison. Josh, on more than one occasion, has been mean, controlling, and both verbally and emotionally abusive. What concerns me most is the way Emma always comes to me, hurt and understandably upset, and then a few days later, not only has it all blown over and is all fine, fine, fine, but more often than not she’s decided to take the blame! Wait, what? For Josh being a dick to you? I don’t understand. In his defense, I gotta hand it to him…when he was trying to discover what could be done to get back in her good graces, she told him in no uncertain terms: “get here. I need to see you. I need to be with you.” He did – he bought a plane ticket and came out over the holidays to be with her. Kudos. Except that, the stress of a long-distance non-relationship should be pretty much alleviated by time spent together. Right? At least while you’re together! Especially because, “non” or otherwise, this is a new-ish thing!! They should be all over each other, lovey-dovey nauseating happiness. And the thing is, Emma is.
While he was in town, Emma, Delores, and I had dinner. Josh, dying to meet us, joined us for dessert. Delores loved him, but I’m not gonna lie – that’s to be expected. She wants to love everyone. She’s not as…discerning as I am. (You can use discriminating if you want…I’m just protective because yes, they’re grown women and the choices they make are their own. I just want the best for them.) What did I think of him? I really, really, really liked him. But I wasn’t convinced. I’m not one to someone once, like him, and decide he’s amazing. I have more history to back up the “I’m not so sure” in my head, so I’m still not so sure. I really want to be. I want to like him as much as Delores did, or even adore him half as much as Emma does. Emma, like Delores, is one of the most amazing women I know. She deserves to be as happy as I’ve seen her be in his presence, even if I only witnessed it for one night. She calls him “honey” and “baby,” she kisses him if she gets up to go to the ladies’ room, she tells him she loves him if he goes to speak to the bartender. Later that night, though, he picked a dumb fight and invaded her space in a scary way (I’m not talking assault, and I’m not going into details). This is the pattern – everything is amazing, then everything is shot to hell, and then who knows? And somewhere in the who knows, the possibility of amazing is too irresistible, and the “non” is back on. Now, I have to remember that sometimes it’s okay to keep your mouth shut. She is a smart woman. She’s also in love, and we have to admit that that can cloud our judgment. She knows I’m trying not to be judgmental, that it’s not so much that I dislike Josh as it is that I love her. I want nothing more in the world than for Josh to be the man Emma hopes he really is, the man she needs. I hope he can do that. And I have to trust that if he doesn’t, Emma’s not gonna continue to put up with being mistreated for very long.
Relationships are complicated. I haven’t been in one in a long time, so I have to admit here that maybe it’s easy for me to “throw stones.” Maybe it’s easy to judge, because it’s been some time since I’ve experienced the give and take. But you know what? I’ve had relationships where I’ve wanted to not listen to what my concerned girlfriends were saying to me. Two of them, specifically, come to mind: one was incredibly emotionally and verbally abusive. Unbelievably, he preyed on me at the most insecure point in my life. I never thought I’d be the girl who made excuses for abuse. He never hit me, but he hurt me plenty in other ways, and broke me down something awful. (Mercifully, I managed to pull myself out of it before too long.) The other slept with at least six other women while I was with him. If you, like my friends and I, enjoy sharing the best bits of your lives with each other, perhaps we should all take heed: if your friends aren’t really willing to “give the boy a hand” for what seems to them as no apparent reason, hear them out. And likewise, if your friend is excited about someone you’re not so sure about, listen, be cautious, have the grace to keep your mouth shut when you can. The only thing that can make these delicate situations worse is straining these valuable relationships. As they say, men come and go, but your girlfriends are forever.
my baby, he don’t talk sweet, he ain’t got much to say…but he loves me, loves me, loves me…I know that he loves me anyway…
