I’ve said before that if I could go back and do it all over again, I wouldn’t marry you. I know that must sound terrible, but I was too young. I didn’t know anything; nothing of the person I would turn into as I grew up. I assumed that had I waited, had we met each other now instead of when I was all of eighteen, we’d have realized our differences and we wouldn’t have gotten so serious about each other.
But, surprise surprise, I seem to be falling in love with you all over again. I hate my cell phone, yet I keep it close just in case you call. And when you do? I drop everything. I hate last-minute plans, yet when you asked me to the Angels game just twenty-five minutes before you picked me up, I did a happy dance all the way to the quickest shower of my life.
Then, last week, when I unexpectedly found myself in Utah for a night, my sister asked me the eight million dollar question. “How are things going with Jon?” I hear this question a lot and I’ve gotten pretty good at coming up with very interesting and eloquent responses, such as:
Or sometimes I just say “um,” scrunch up my face like I’m constipated, and shrug my shoulders. To people who have asked me more than once, I say (in my best six-year-old whiny voice), “Please! Stop asking! I don’t knoooow-uhh!”
If we had only recently met and started dating, I’d tell people that, oh my God, I’ve met the love of my life! But, been there and done that. We’re married, remember? And we have been for almost seven years. So, I find the fact that we’re “dating” a wee bit pathetic.
It’s all well and good to take things slow, enjoy this “new” relationship between us and just “see how things go,” but the fact is… I AM NOT OKAY WITH THIS. Period. End of story. And, as lame as it might sound, I have to be true to myself. I have to do what makes me happy, what makes me comfortable. And dating my husband isn’t it.
We have no plans, no goals. It’s making me crazy! We don’t talk about our issues or try to resolve them which means that if we ever actually make an adult decision to, I don’t know, work things out, we will eventually run into the same effing problems. The very same ones that we’ve been dealing with since THE DAWN OF TIME.
For a minute I thought that maybe our dating was the way to a new, healthier, more successful relationship. We’ve been spending a lot of time together, having fun. Sometimes it feels just like it used to when our relationship was at its best. When we were at the bar watching the All Star Game, before I went and offended David Price, you were touching me just like you used to. It wasn’t sexual, just affectionate. You were touching my hair, rubbing my back… and for reasons as simple as you wanted to and could.
Now I worry that in between our dates you’re busy building a new life of your own, one I’m not sure how I’d fit into. Right now, you spend your weekend mornings taking long, intense bike rides. Not at all like the kind of bike rides I’d be interested in. (You know, the ones that conclude at Starbucks before leisurely riding home and taking a nap.)
I’d rather spend any Saturday or Sunday I’m lucky enough to get off in bed, sleeping in, waking up to bad television shows and eventually falling asleep again with the cats curled against me.
I understand that we are two very different people. You’re social and outgoing. I hate everyone. You love sports and I wouldn’t know the difference between football and hockey if it weren’t for you. You’re spontaneous; I need two weeks notice or else I’m a mass of trembling nerves and pouting lips. You want kids, like, yesterday and I can’t help but think what’s the rush?
So, here’s my eight million dollar question for you. Are you willing to compromise? Are you willing to spend a Saturday here and there lazing about in bed till noon just to make me happy? Or have you finally reached a point where you’re only concerned with your own happiness? Because, sometimes, I really do fear that’s the case, that you have lost all interest in spending any energy on others. Like me.
It’s time for us to have this conversation, to finally make some decisions. Like adults. I will forever hold myself in limbo until we do. But, for the life of me, I can’t figure out how to say “we need to talk” because one, I hate those words with a passion rivaling that of chocolate and two, I don’t want to be Debbie Downer. I want to have fun. I want things between us to be good. I don’t want to fight or argue or cry or, worse, realize that this relationship really isn’t going to work.
And, the longer this goes on, this uncertain and unpredictable relationship, the more afraid I am that that really is the case. And, if it is, I need to get away from you once and for all and start dealing with it like, you guessed it, an adult.
And maybe then the dreams will finally stop. Yes, I still dream of you. Most recently we won twenty million in the lottery. It was the first dream that didn’t involve you texting, e-mailing, or stopping by to throw yourself on my mercy. Now, if only my dreams would start coming true. (Or start revolving around Edward.) (Sorry.)