I remember clearly the last time I was on an amusement park ride. It was not a pleasant experience. It was one of those rides that throws you through the air and swings you side to side roughly, abruptly changing directions so suddenly and with such force that you wonder if your internal organs have departed your body. Then you immediately wonder how can the mechanics of this ride sustain such momentum and force. When will that one bolt work it’s way loose. When will my chair…or my daughter’s chair in front of me…be the one to go flying wildly into the air as if forcefully flung from the contraption. I remember gritting my teeth, dreading every moment, wondering when the ride would end. My daughter on the other hand reveled in the moment.
It was the last amusement park ride I ever rode.
I learned something about myself that day. I learned, I don’t really like amusement park rides. Not even the tame ones. Too much of my psyche is preoccupied with enduring the experience. There’s no enjoyment. Even more of my energy is consumed with fretting about that one in one hundred billionth chance that something will go desperately wrong.
Then, of course, there is the time and expense. At many amusement parks, you pay a premium for a two minute ride. And…you stand in line for a very long time for that short ride. Even at a small county fair, you can expect to pay way too much for way too little in terms of entertainment time. And then what? When it’s all over, you are broke and miserable, with nothing but a bad memory to show for it. At least, that’s my experience.
No matter how many rides I go on or how many different venues I experience it’s always the same.
It’s interesting how similar my experiences with marriage are to amusement park rides.
About two years ago, I published a post on this blog about meeting this great guy. I published a post or two a bit later about marrying that guy and leaving my life as I had known it to live with him overseas. He worked overseas as a contractor and the plan was that I would move with him and live with him where he worked. It was a wonderful fairy tale story except that it was real and it was happening to me. I was going to be able to fulfill a lifelong dream of living abroad, being able to write and not have to deal with the stresses of my career. I was marrying a man I loved and who loved me. It was going to be great.
Except…it wasn’t great. Read the rest of this entry
Why haven’t I stopped in, stayed a while, and rambled on here since last July?!!!
It isn’t because I don’t like it here. I love this place.
It isn’t because I’ve been sleeping the whole night through. I haven’t.
It isn’t because I have nothing to write about. Oh, that is most certainly not the case.
The truth is this: I’ve been so stinking busy with real life, that I haven’t had a moment to render my version of this crazy life into written prose…until now.
Let’s get caught up, shall we?
In my last post, which was just over a year ago, I wrote about three men that I was, well, for lack of a better term, talking to. It was a bit more than discussion for each of these, but a LOT less than actual dating. I don’t know exactly where that put these interactions…and I no longer care. In that post, I mentioned Man #1, Man #2, and Man #3. I know, it sounds a lot like Let’s Make A Deal. What’s behind door number 1? Yeah, whatever.
As if dating were that easy. Read the rest of this entry
Have you ever had that conversation in a relationship where it dawns on you that you shouldn’t be having this conversation? It suddenly breaks into your awareness that the fact that this particular conversation is occurring is the huge red flag signaling that something is way not right?
Guys are pretty easy to figure out, if women would only shut up and listen. When we do they not only say what they think, they do it. Or, as in my situation, they don’t do anything relationally significant except clutter the landscape.
The other day, the guy I’m living with, said…regarding us and marriage, “I’m just hesitant…”. Of course he then lists reasons why he is hesitant to move our relationship forward. To me, the reasons are irrelevant. He told me all I need to know. He is hesitant. Okay. That’s fine.
But it isn’t fine.
We’ve been together well over a year. He’s had time to see things as they really are. He’s living with me. But he’s hesitant.
Tonight I told him, he’s taking up space in my life. I told him he needs to move out. I told him that if he’s hesitant then he has no business living in my house, eating my food, taking advantage of me and cluttering the landscape. He needs to get out and quit taking up space in my life.
I just really do not have time for this and I hate clutter. That, unfortunately, is what he has become.