Try to have fun no matter what you do.
-Prince, Nothing Compares 2 U
One of the biggest changes in her over the years is that her world became very black and white. It mostly came from having children, she supposed, and all of the boundary setting and rule teaching you do when you bring them up. A toddler isn’t capable of discerning gray area; you simply teach them that yes, they are allowed to do this or no, they are not allowed to do that.
It’s not how she used to be.
She didn’t used to have sharp edges or defined corners or a whole lot of rules. Even in high school, she was one of those people whose friends came from all of the different cliques; spending time with geeks and cheerleaders, burnouts and holy rollers, she wasn’t obsessed with her looks or her image or what other kids thought about her. She didn’t have a strong desire to attach to any particular boy or activity or way of thinking. There were boys and there was typical teenage drama, but she just never got bogged down in it. She just happened to be good at most things she was interested in, and she was interested in a lot of things. And she kind of breezed along.
As she got older and moved on, that breeziness was increasingly interpreted by others as inexperience and immaturity. She began to be challenged or sometimes coerced into defining opinions and forming alliances. She began to learn something about the messiness of life, and she began to define a personal set of rules to live by, something to help tidy that mess. And as she continued to grow older, and her environments and experiences evolved, those rules became clearer, more rigid, more difficult to challenge. They became the way she made sense of her life. The way she kept things neat and in order. Rules took the fear out of marriage and career and parenthood. Spontaneity became scary. Rules never surprised her. They were constant. She could count on them.
S: I guess I have a question, if I might.
It's something that I've been wondering about for
a while.
P: Ask.
S: Well, we're both married, parents, committed.
P: Ask.
S: Well, we're both married, parents, committed.
Why are your boundaries so different than mine?
There hasn't been one time that you've said what
we do when we, um, talk, might be wrong. It's
always me. Why is that?
P: I don't think it's wrong
P: I don't think it's wrong
Cheating ish but not wrong for me
S: But why? Why is cheating-ish okay? Is it
S: But why? Why is cheating-ish okay? Is it
something you have established with your wife?
Is it okay with her?
P: No
P: No
It isn’t
But it's ok with me
And I don't feel bad because it's my sexuality
Mine I own it
S: You share it.
P: Yes on my terms
S: What about her terms?
S: You share it.
P: Yes on my terms
S: What about her terms?
Why are hers less important?
P: Not mine to dictate
S: Not the point.
P: Not mine to dictate
S: Not the point.
Don't you care about hers, too?
Or only insofar as they don't conflict with yours?
I don't understand why there seems to be no
conscience.
I just keep waiting to hear that you have one.
P: Lol I do
Occasionally a person in her life would challenge her rules. Occasionally somebody she loved or liked or spent time with would mess up her tidy and ordered existence by making a choice that she couldn’t justify in her own personal code of ethics. And even though it was their behavior and their choice and their consequence, somehow she felt she had to act. Say something. Make a choice.
P: You seemed judgmental
S: I didn't like your answers
P: Yes so I noticed
And often that choice was her rule instead of her person.
S: You're mad at me?
P: Not mad
S: ?
P: Just ran into one of your rules
S: Oh. Was that a zinger? Was it supposed to sting?
P: No
P: Lol I do
Occasionally a person in her life would challenge her rules. Occasionally somebody she loved or liked or spent time with would mess up her tidy and ordered existence by making a choice that she couldn’t justify in her own personal code of ethics. And even though it was their behavior and their choice and their consequence, somehow she felt she had to act. Say something. Make a choice.
P: You seemed judgmental
S: I didn't like your answers
P: Yes so I noticed
And often that choice was her rule instead of her person.
S: You're mad at me?
P: Not mad
S: ?
P: Just ran into one of your rules
S: Oh. Was that a zinger? Was it supposed to sting?
P: No
You seem angry
S: So do you
P: No not angry
S: what then
P: Better informed
S: So do you
P: No not angry
S: what then
P: Better informed
Than before
Looking back on those instances she knows now that while she may have been acting judgmental, she was really jealous. Jealous of anybody with the guts to step outside of the rules and do something just because it felt good. Jealous of anybody with the courage to admit they needed something that they weren’t getting, finding that thing, and taking it, right or wrong or good or bad. She was jealous.
She kept telling herself that by remaining rigid and focused on doing what was ‘right’ she might be unfulfilled right this second, but it would pay off later. Someday. Somewhere there was a reward for living in an ordered, correct way.
P: Feel like you have chastised me
Looking back on those instances she knows now that while she may have been acting judgmental, she was really jealous. Jealous of anybody with the guts to step outside of the rules and do something just because it felt good. Jealous of anybody with the courage to admit they needed something that they weren’t getting, finding that thing, and taking it, right or wrong or good or bad. She was jealous.
She kept telling herself that by remaining rigid and focused on doing what was ‘right’ she might be unfulfilled right this second, but it would pay off later. Someday. Somewhere there was a reward for living in an ordered, correct way.
P: Feel like you have chastised me
Let me know that you think I'm wrong
I feel exposed and vulnerable
S: Hey, that's my line.
P: Lol
S: Hey, that's my line.
P: Lol
Yeah sok. I get it. And I'm glad you were honest
with me
Not mad or anything
S: I'm sorry you feel chastised.
P: Not a problem
S: I'm sorry you feel chastised.
P: Not a problem
But it feels funny now that it seems that you are
looking down your nose at me
Then her ordered, correct life bottomed out. And she realized all of those times she clung to her rules instead of her people left her with fewer people to cling to when her ordered and correct life went to shit.
That is what she was doing when she met P; taking a leave from her ordered and correct life. Questioning her belief system and analyzing her rules. Being honest about her shortcomings, of which she had many. Finally taking the time to acknowledge problems in her marriage, jealousy in her heart, and the hard feelings and insecurities that she had been ignoring as she navigated through the challenges of their years together.
Mostly she had been dealing with these things on her own. But once she connected with him, without even knowing it, he became her partner. Her backup. Her sounding board. And occasionally the person she pounded with questions because she thought he had something she wanted; the ability to seek out what he needed, even if that thing wasn’t what was popular or accepted or correct.
And when he’d say something she didn’t understand, she’d first react by lashing out. Judging. But already he was carving out his place in her brain. His words would stay with her all night, somersaulting through her rigid thoughts until she finally relented, allowing her long-forgotten flexibility a chance to come back.
S: I'm sorry.
Then her ordered, correct life bottomed out. And she realized all of those times she clung to her rules instead of her people left her with fewer people to cling to when her ordered and correct life went to shit.
That is what she was doing when she met P; taking a leave from her ordered and correct life. Questioning her belief system and analyzing her rules. Being honest about her shortcomings, of which she had many. Finally taking the time to acknowledge problems in her marriage, jealousy in her heart, and the hard feelings and insecurities that she had been ignoring as she navigated through the challenges of their years together.
Mostly she had been dealing with these things on her own. But once she connected with him, without even knowing it, he became her partner. Her backup. Her sounding board. And occasionally the person she pounded with questions because she thought he had something she wanted; the ability to seek out what he needed, even if that thing wasn’t what was popular or accepted or correct.
And when he’d say something she didn’t understand, she’d first react by lashing out. Judging. But already he was carving out his place in her brain. His words would stay with her all night, somersaulting through her rigid thoughts until she finally relented, allowing her long-forgotten flexibility a chance to come back.
S: I'm sorry.
I started asking the questions about boundaries
because you just seem so okay about it all, and
I'm always feeling like I'm doing something
wrong.
I'm not judging you. I am trying to understand
you
I feel like you're my friend. And it’s silly and
weird and all cyber-virtual-fantasy-something or
other.
But I really like knowing you're out there rooting
for me. And I'm out here rooting for you
But there's something about the way you
communicate about sex that I just don't get. And
sometimes it makes me uncomfortable, other
times it makes me feel like I should challenge
you on it.
I guess because I'd want somebody chatting with
my husband all sexy like to remind him he has a
me.
P: So it would seem. And I am your friend
S: Have we kissed and made up?
P: Yes
S: Good. Because my fantasy P finds it
P: So it would seem. And I am your friend
S: Have we kissed and made up?
P: Yes
S: Good. Because my fantasy P finds it
impossible to stay angry with me.
With P, she tried choosing her person over her rule, and while it was a much scarier choice, he had a way of making her feel safe. He took away a lot of her loneliness. And she learned it didn’t make her feel guilty to allow somebody to help her figure out what it was she was missing.
TO: Pavlov
With P, she tried choosing her person over her rule, and while it was a much scarier choice, he had a way of making her feel safe. He took away a lot of her loneliness. And she learned it didn’t make her feel guilty to allow somebody to help her figure out what it was she was missing.
TO: Pavlov
FROM: Sudan
I look for pieces of me in your posts; I wait to see if you'll leave me a comment. I hang on every one. Because I don't get you in person. I don't get to know what you sound like or smell like. I don't get to reach out and touch your arm when you say something that makes me laugh. I don't get to bat my eyes at you over a martini glass. I don't get to agonize over what to wear before I meet you somewhere for dinner.
I get your words.
And I cannot explain how I can feel so connected to some random man I've been chatting with for a few days, but I do.
She found it difficult not to compare him to her husband.
She and her husband had a lot about them that was in opposition. He lets life just happen, unfolding before him like a path he is supposed to follow. She prefers to plan, to choose her route, and impact her outcome. He accepts things, where she analyzes them to death. He can walk away from conflict, where she needs to stand up and sometimes fight and always try to resolve. He decided one time that he was going to love her. She decided every day that she was going to love him. She recommits every single day.
Those differences were so attractive to her eleven years ago.
Eleven years ago she craved uncomplicated. She wanted a man who could be taken at face value. She didn’t want to have to dig around and extract who he was, then find out later that she had uncovered a monster. She just wanted to find a man who was nice. Honest. Kind. Simple.
And when she found just that, she planned to keep him. Amidst warnings from friends who thought they’d never last, who thought she’d be bored, who figured he was just her rebound, she agreed to marry him. And she was happy. It was easy to be happy with somebody like him; somebody who was constant and stable and free of baggage and skeletons and darkness. They laughed hard and fucked a lot and enjoyed just being together.
And for a long time she felt really content.
TO: Sudan
I get your words.
And I cannot explain how I can feel so connected to some random man I've been chatting with for a few days, but I do.
She found it difficult not to compare him to her husband.
She and her husband had a lot about them that was in opposition. He lets life just happen, unfolding before him like a path he is supposed to follow. She prefers to plan, to choose her route, and impact her outcome. He accepts things, where she analyzes them to death. He can walk away from conflict, where she needs to stand up and sometimes fight and always try to resolve. He decided one time that he was going to love her. She decided every day that she was going to love him. She recommits every single day.
Those differences were so attractive to her eleven years ago.
Eleven years ago she craved uncomplicated. She wanted a man who could be taken at face value. She didn’t want to have to dig around and extract who he was, then find out later that she had uncovered a monster. She just wanted to find a man who was nice. Honest. Kind. Simple.
And when she found just that, she planned to keep him. Amidst warnings from friends who thought they’d never last, who thought she’d be bored, who figured he was just her rebound, she agreed to marry him. And she was happy. It was easy to be happy with somebody like him; somebody who was constant and stable and free of baggage and skeletons and darkness. They laughed hard and fucked a lot and enjoyed just being together.
And for a long time she felt really content.
TO: Sudan
FROM: Pavlov
I'm not sure how random it is. I think we seek out things we want. I think when we sense similar needs in others we draw close. I am drawn to you. I can't get you out of my head. You invade.
As far as me pushing you I think you need that too. An excuse to go farther than you want to take total responsibility for. That's why I am no longer pushing. You will ask for more soon enough.
And feel special because this isn't something I make a habit of despite what you might think. I want to know all your secrets. All your desires and even stupid stuff like what side of the bed you sleep on or the color of your toothbrush or if you have one of those fuzzy toilet seat covers or if you just go bareback.
I also like knowing that you think of me when you touch yourself. And wonder how long it will take to see me in your minds eye whenever he's inside of you.
Good morning by the way...
His simplicity made her feel safe. They weren’t in competition with each other. He was just proud to have her on his arm, and she was pretty thrilled to be there. He was always where he said he’d be. He always called when he said he’d call. He was always willing to try whatever restaurant she suggested. Always willing to wear whatever clothing she chose. The sex was very polite and loving. They rarely argued. It was just easy to be around each other. It was important to both of them to keep the other happy.
P: Tell me how I'm in your head
S: If I tell you how you're in my head, you have
As far as me pushing you I think you need that too. An excuse to go farther than you want to take total responsibility for. That's why I am no longer pushing. You will ask for more soon enough.
And feel special because this isn't something I make a habit of despite what you might think. I want to know all your secrets. All your desires and even stupid stuff like what side of the bed you sleep on or the color of your toothbrush or if you have one of those fuzzy toilet seat covers or if you just go bareback.
I also like knowing that you think of me when you touch yourself. And wonder how long it will take to see me in your minds eye whenever he's inside of you.
Good morning by the way...
His simplicity made her feel safe. They weren’t in competition with each other. He was just proud to have her on his arm, and she was pretty thrilled to be there. He was always where he said he’d be. He always called when he said he’d call. He was always willing to try whatever restaurant she suggested. Always willing to wear whatever clothing she chose. The sex was very polite and loving. They rarely argued. It was just easy to be around each other. It was important to both of them to keep the other happy.
P: Tell me how I'm in your head
S: If I tell you how you're in my head, you have
to promise to take a moment before
you tell me I'm off my rocker.
P: Ok
P: Ok
Pinkie swear
S: Alright. So, I do think about you. Because I am
S: Alright. So, I do think about you. Because I am
really attracted to who you are in my
head - I think I've said this - I get to relive all the
fun parts of meeting someone I’m
attracted to. The getting to know you, the talky
talky that we chicks just love. You're
interested in things that are old news to my
husband. And you make me feel very sexy.
In a new way, not in the way that is predictable
when you've been with someone a long
long time.
So,
I make jokes about your other girlies because
if there were some,
I'd be jealous.
There was no jealousy between them. Even early on, when they were still living in different cities and in totally different worlds – him in the frat house, still being a student, and her in her own place, wearing a suit to work every day – there was no reason for distrust. The weekends she went to visit him were fun because she could relax from the pressures of her job and just be free for a couple of days, and the weekends he came to visit her were fun because she had a date to bring to dinner parties or events and she could enjoy learning how to sleep next to somebody without feeling suffocated.
She never had a reason to be concerned that he wasn’t exactly who he seemed to be, and he never had a reason to be concerned that she was anything but crazy about him. And despite their differences, their connection evolved into a bond, and their bond evolved into an engagement. Much to the surprise of the friends surrounding them.
S: Should we have a "safe word"? In case one of us
There was no jealousy between them. Even early on, when they were still living in different cities and in totally different worlds – him in the frat house, still being a student, and her in her own place, wearing a suit to work every day – there was no reason for distrust. The weekends she went to visit him were fun because she could relax from the pressures of her job and just be free for a couple of days, and the weekends he came to visit her were fun because she had a date to bring to dinner parties or events and she could enjoy learning how to sleep next to somebody without feeling suffocated.
She never had a reason to be concerned that he wasn’t exactly who he seemed to be, and he never had a reason to be concerned that she was anything but crazy about him. And despite their differences, their connection evolved into a bond, and their bond evolved into an engagement. Much to the surprise of the friends surrounding them.
S: Should we have a "safe word"? In case one of us
Thinks it’s going too far?
P: Lol
P: Lol
Ok
S: ok
S: ok
kumkwat. our safe word. kumquat.
P: Ok
There were times when she was feared he was falling in love with her under false pretenses. Because she was pretending. Pretending to be somebody else. Pretending to be someone who was confident and calm and strong, not this twist of anxiety and doubt. She was allowing him to think that her demons were under control, locked away for good, only to be discussed in the past tense like an old boyfriend or a childhood pet. In fact, she’s not even sure he would have called them demons at all. She’s not sure he ever gave her secrets that much thought.
Then there were times when she’d sit up in bed alone at night and allow herself to feel the chill under her skin, the butterflies in her stomach, the tightening in her chest just under her heart. Because no matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise, it was there, as much a part of her as the color of her hair or her birth mark or the way she always stood with her legs crossed and her arms all wrapped around herself. Her whole life, in quiet moments of silence, she could feel the anxiety twisting around inside. It’s a family trait; her dad has it, her grandma, her aunt. Her son. While sometimes it can be crippling, other times she felt almost proud to own it, because it makes her resemble the people she’s related to. It’s where she came from.
S: Are you beginning to wish you had a more calm
P: Ok
There were times when she was feared he was falling in love with her under false pretenses. Because she was pretending. Pretending to be somebody else. Pretending to be someone who was confident and calm and strong, not this twist of anxiety and doubt. She was allowing him to think that her demons were under control, locked away for good, only to be discussed in the past tense like an old boyfriend or a childhood pet. In fact, she’s not even sure he would have called them demons at all. She’s not sure he ever gave her secrets that much thought.
Then there were times when she’d sit up in bed alone at night and allow herself to feel the chill under her skin, the butterflies in her stomach, the tightening in her chest just under her heart. Because no matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise, it was there, as much a part of her as the color of her hair or her birth mark or the way she always stood with her legs crossed and her arms all wrapped around herself. Her whole life, in quiet moments of silence, she could feel the anxiety twisting around inside. It’s a family trait; her dad has it, her grandma, her aunt. Her son. While sometimes it can be crippling, other times she felt almost proud to own it, because it makes her resemble the people she’s related to. It’s where she came from.
S: Are you beginning to wish you had a more calm
internet fantasy girl?
P: I want you
P: I want you
All your warts and hangups I can match with my
own
Stop apologizing and
Let me be with you
His reliability and predictability made her begin to think she might be able to trust him. With her. Letting him know just how trapped she could be in her own head, by her own thoughts, by the anxiety that lived in her chest all the time. So every now and then she’d give him a little test. Show him a few pages of a story she wrote, suggest some obscure topic of conversation, or even offer to answer one question, any question, whatever it was that he wanted to know about her. With complete honesty.
He struggled to pass her tests, not because he was a bad guy, but simply because it was hard for him to come up with any meaningful answer or feedback or input; he just wasn’t all that curious about her. What he saw on the surface was enough. It was all he needed to know in order to love her, and to dig any deeper just wasn’t his nature. He’d try to do it because he knew she wanted him to, but it was difficult for him to come up with a question. When he would make an attempt it generally left them both feeling a little weird and unsatisfied. He just wanted simplicity. That’s all he needed in order to feel loved. Simplicity.
P: It's real
His reliability and predictability made her begin to think she might be able to trust him. With her. Letting him know just how trapped she could be in her own head, by her own thoughts, by the anxiety that lived in her chest all the time. So every now and then she’d give him a little test. Show him a few pages of a story she wrote, suggest some obscure topic of conversation, or even offer to answer one question, any question, whatever it was that he wanted to know about her. With complete honesty.
He struggled to pass her tests, not because he was a bad guy, but simply because it was hard for him to come up with any meaningful answer or feedback or input; he just wasn’t all that curious about her. What he saw on the surface was enough. It was all he needed to know in order to love her, and to dig any deeper just wasn’t his nature. He’d try to do it because he knew she wanted him to, but it was difficult for him to come up with a question. When he would make an attempt it generally left them both feeling a little weird and unsatisfied. He just wanted simplicity. That’s all he needed in order to feel loved. Simplicity.
P: It's real
It's a connection
You feel it
I feel it
Don't hide
It's ok
Let's just stay honest and open
S: It's not real. My husband is real. He's the
S: It's not real. My husband is real. He's the
one that knew I had a crazy morning, so he set
the coffee pot last night. He doesn't drink coffee.
He did it for me. That is real.
This is something else.
This is a game.
Because if it isn't, then it's wrong. No matter what
it feels like.
Instead of being hurt, she decided it was actually a good thing. It was how ‘normal’ people behaved. He didn’t need to know all of her secrets to know he loved her and would stand by her and take care of her forever. He didn’t need to know all of her preferences in order to make her happy, because even if he didn’t get all of the specifics exactly right, the fact that he made an effort at all showed his devotion.
And that’s when it began to happen that they started disappearing. Her preferences. Not all at once - she didn’t just wake up one morning and decide that she no longer had a favorite flower or color or wine. But it happened in bits and pieces. Like always letting him choose what to pick up at the party store when they planned to have cocktails, because he didn’t like whiskey like she did, but she could tolerate the rum that he preferred to drink. And she loved him, so it didn’t matter that he always brought home his favorite, and never hers.
And when they’d make love they’d do it his way, when he initiated it, all within his boundaries and comfort zones. He was always gentle and reassuring, and she’d let him think she had an orgasm every time. Because she wanted him to feel loved.
S: Did she ever want to meet you?
P: Yes
Instead of being hurt, she decided it was actually a good thing. It was how ‘normal’ people behaved. He didn’t need to know all of her secrets to know he loved her and would stand by her and take care of her forever. He didn’t need to know all of her preferences in order to make her happy, because even if he didn’t get all of the specifics exactly right, the fact that he made an effort at all showed his devotion.
And that’s when it began to happen that they started disappearing. Her preferences. Not all at once - she didn’t just wake up one morning and decide that she no longer had a favorite flower or color or wine. But it happened in bits and pieces. Like always letting him choose what to pick up at the party store when they planned to have cocktails, because he didn’t like whiskey like she did, but she could tolerate the rum that he preferred to drink. And she loved him, so it didn’t matter that he always brought home his favorite, and never hers.
And when they’d make love they’d do it his way, when he initiated it, all within his boundaries and comfort zones. He was always gentle and reassuring, and she’d let him think she had an orgasm every time. Because she wanted him to feel loved.
S: Did she ever want to meet you?
P: Yes
I declined
S: Because that's a boundary or because of another
S: Because that's a boundary or because of another
reason?
P: My boundary
P: My boundary
One of them
S: Okay. We found one.
S: Okay. We found one.
What's another one?
P: I will not love you
S: Have you ever pushed that boundary?
P: Never
P: I will not love you
S: Have you ever pushed that boundary?
P: Never
But I fear it with you. Seems like we are new
frnds with old history
S: You're saying that because you think it's what I
S: You're saying that because you think it's what I
want to hear.
Because you're good at this.
P: Rude
S: No. I didn't mean it like that.
P: Rude
S: No. I didn't mean it like that.
I meant that you always say things to put me at
ease.
And it doesn't make me uneasy to have you say
you'll never love me. This is our circumstance.
P: Agreed
And in those moments when her anxiety would overwhelm her, he was there to hold her hand or stroke her hair or call her parents or do whatever he needed to do until it passed. Or during those times when her doubts would make everything dark, and she’d struggle to even lift her head off of the pillow, he’d be there running a bath and telling her everything would be okay. And when he’d run to the store to get a bottle of wine, he’d also bring home flowers, because he wanted so badly for her to feel better. He wanted her to be better. He wanted her fixed. Back to normal.
And in those times when they would disagree or argue, he could do it without yelling or throwing things or hurting her. He never threatened to leave. He never tried to embarrass or humiliate her. He was kind, even in anger, and it all just seemed so healthy. Normal.
That’s what she wanted to be for him. Normal. Worthy of his kindness and affection and focus. She wanted them to work.
P: Tell me
S: What?
P: What you want
S: Exclusivity. No other pretend internet girlfriends
P: Agreed
And in those moments when her anxiety would overwhelm her, he was there to hold her hand or stroke her hair or call her parents or do whatever he needed to do until it passed. Or during those times when her doubts would make everything dark, and she’d struggle to even lift her head off of the pillow, he’d be there running a bath and telling her everything would be okay. And when he’d run to the store to get a bottle of wine, he’d also bring home flowers, because he wanted so badly for her to feel better. He wanted her to be better. He wanted her fixed. Back to normal.
And in those times when they would disagree or argue, he could do it without yelling or throwing things or hurting her. He never threatened to leave. He never tried to embarrass or humiliate her. He was kind, even in anger, and it all just seemed so healthy. Normal.
That’s what she wanted to be for him. Normal. Worthy of his kindness and affection and focus. She wanted them to work.
P: Tell me
S: What?
P: What you want
S: Exclusivity. No other pretend internet girlfriends
while you're with me
I'm old fashioned that way. One
rendezvous at a time. What do you think?
P: I think you are old fashioned. And one at a time
P: I think you are old fashioned. And one at a time
seems like a good idea.
So S, do you take me
P
To be your one and only fakity
Fuckchatting pretend
Beau?
S: I do.
S: I do.
And do you P, take me
to be your one and only
rule mongering, nervous, old fashioned pretend
internet girl?
P: You bet your sweet ass I do
And as they went from engaged to married, it really felt like it was working. Being in love with a completely trustworthy, solid man who wanted a traditional, simple life. She was happy. She chose to be happy. It didn’t matter that she was flawed and complex and far from perfect on the inside, because with him, what was on the surface was enough. The laughter and smiling and the look of it all. It was enough for him. She was enough.
S: Thank you.
P: For?
S: All of it. The funny and the sweet and the pushy
P: You bet your sweet ass I do
And as they went from engaged to married, it really felt like it was working. Being in love with a completely trustworthy, solid man who wanted a traditional, simple life. She was happy. She chose to be happy. It didn’t matter that she was flawed and complex and far from perfect on the inside, because with him, what was on the surface was enough. The laughter and smiling and the look of it all. It was enough for him. She was enough.
S: Thank you.
P: For?
S: All of it. The funny and the sweet and the pushy
and the sexy. You make me feel pretty
great.
P: You are pretty great
P: You are pretty great
And I'm happy we are getting closer
S: Me too.
While she thought she was choosing their happiness, she was slowly realizing that really she was choosing his happiness. She wanted to be a good wife, to make their home the place he wanted to return to every night, her dinners to be his favorite thing to eat, to blow his mind in bed, and for his kids to adore him. Focusing on his feelings, his needs before her own, was what she once thought to be the secret of a happy marriage. But as she disappeared, as she watched different parts of her fade and wear away, she began to suspect that what she had really discovered was the secret to a typical marriage. Ordinary. One that will reach that point where somebody, someday will wonder whatever brought those two people together in the first place.
S: Me too.
While she thought she was choosing their happiness, she was slowly realizing that really she was choosing his happiness. She wanted to be a good wife, to make their home the place he wanted to return to every night, her dinners to be his favorite thing to eat, to blow his mind in bed, and for his kids to adore him. Focusing on his feelings, his needs before her own, was what she once thought to be the secret of a happy marriage. But as she disappeared, as she watched different parts of her fade and wear away, she began to suspect that what she had really discovered was the secret to a typical marriage. Ordinary. One that will reach that point where somebody, someday will wonder whatever brought those two people together in the first place.
