(This post is being republished. It was written before “the break up”, but I still mean every word)
I think about all the men I’ve had in my life, not that I’ve got Madonna’s Sealy-Posturepedic track record by any means (my bedpost has far less notches….and teeth marks) but I’ve had other relationships and the very best thing I can say about them is that they are over.
But that ‘s not the case with us.
What we have is alive and enduring and sustained in part, by the fact that I love you and apparently, you love you too.
A lot.
Even so, you are an enlightening presence in my life. That is undeniable and I’m learning a great deal from you about who I am. What concerns me though, is my current emergence. You might not like the woman who’s bounding forth from this tightly wound cocoon which at one time, encapsulated me and so much lingering self-doubt. Then again, I might now be exactly who and what you want me to be. What you’ve always wanted. But I feel it’s within my right to express that I’m a bit worried about this. You see, I just hope this renewed appreciation doesn’t come too late.
In the meantime, as we endeavor to keep our relationship within the bounds of propriety, I have decided to change my tack. I’ve been the one who’s fueled the emotional fire between us, but as per your request and that which stems from my boredom with feeling rather alone in the face of our being together, I’m quashing that one-sided behavior like Judge Lance Ito and suppressed evidence in the Simpson trial.
I will do this by committing ONLY to what I can and that includes trying to tolerate some of the insane things you say and do and posses corporally and let me tell ya something, Joy Pecs…I’m trying DAMN hard.
These things are listed as follows:
1. You call the grocery store “the market”. ,Cute for a while. Now? Not so much. You also verb it out. You go “marketing”. For some reason, hearing this is like fingernails on a chalk board. I know of NO other human, much less a man who says this. So I gotta ask–when you buy meat, do you go “butchering”? Is it also bakerying in your world? Dry cleanering?
2. When we’re together and classical music is on the stereo, you play the “air cello”.
3. You pronounce my name wrong. It is Laurie. The prefix is pronounced as one would say “law”. I’m not “Lorry”–that’s what the Brits call a truck. I know you could make a joke here, but I would think it wise if you refrained. Because I could make a joke, too…this one would be a witty analogy about this one man’s inability to “park” a certain “compact lorry” in a certain well constructed “garage”.
4. Your toenails. Sweetie, they’re talons. And that thing you call your big toe? It’s so odd looking, misshapen and discolored. For the first three months we were together, I thought that orange-ish growth was a misplaced Cheeto with a foot fetish.
You always slather it with anti-fungal creme. All things considered, I would think that you’d accomplish more by using French Onion dip.
5. You prefer my Midol over aspirin. I know they both contain the same ingredients and are essentially one in the same, but it’s….it’s…it’s Midol!!
6. You drive with both feet. One is poised above the brake pedal while the other steps on the gas and vice-versa. This metatarsaled ambidexterity is just so damn freaky!! It looks weird and I know you continue to do this because you know it makes me nuts and you enjoy that. So, by all means, continue AND WHATEVER YOU DO, don’t stop there. PLEASE learn to change radio stations with your knee. God only knows what you could do with the cruise control!!!!!
7. Lastly and perhaps the most serious of this compendium, you don’t always fight fair and if that’s not bad enough, you know which buttons of mine to push and you push them intentionally. Why do you do that? You’re like this manic woman in that regard.
On second thought, keep taking the damn Midol!!
.
Must close now, but I’ll leave with you with this, my darling: make no mistake–I love you, but right now, I don’t like you. What’s happening between us now isn’t fair. I’ve accommodated you; I’ve tweaked what I can and yes, I’ve made the effort.
I’ve done my part.
Now, the ball is in your court. Seriously–change your ways. “We” need you to do this because if you don’t–and this is indeed a threat–I won’t need need to use my phone’s caller ID to know it’s you ringing me.
I’ll simply recognize the precursory smell of gin and regret.
,
Tootles!!!!
……….
