How To Keep A Girl For Ten Years: Don’t Suck When She’s Sick
I am not what anyone would ever refer to as the “traditional” or “religious” type BUT in traditional marriage vows, there’s some decent verbiage not just for married couples (as so many of us cannot legally, THANKS LAWZ) but for any couple attempting to make their relationship work in the long term. During this especially precarious flu season, one rings particularly true about being there for her “in sickness and in health.” I was fortunate to have a lavishly nurturing mother, ripped from the pages of a Normal Rockwell painting, who coddled me well through my late teens and into adulthood. I never suffered any fools nor weathered a scratchy throat without her hastening about the house for cough drops and Earl Grey.
Via wunderground.com
Perhaps my views on the value of nurturing one another in sickness are slightly skewed for this reason. I can’t imagine going it alone nor do I think you should have to if you have a handy dandy lady-friend nearby to do your NyQuil bidding and pet your dewy head with her cool, celestial hands.
Via playingwiththeuniverse.ning.com
When Natalie and I first met, as coddled as we both were by our mothers — neither of us were natural caregivers. One of us would fall ill and the other would sneer around the apartment day-dreaming about all the thrilling misadventures we could be having with a more robust counterpart.
Of course the other wouldn’t forget this betrayal and offer up the same heaping teaspoon of gravel when the situation reversed and the cycle of abuse continued. Since both of us valued being cared for when we were sick, resentment swelled that we didn’t even fully understand the origin of. It also made us question what the other would do if one of us got really, seriously sick. We would get into fights about small, meaningless issues when all we really wanted to say was; “why don’t you take care of me?” When Natalie didn’t take care of me, it felt like she just didn’t care about me.
Via popkitten.com
Obviously, this wasn’t the case because I did the same thing to her and I cared for her very deeply. We couldn’t be each other’s Florence Nightingale, that was clear, it wasn’t how we were wired and we were both too stubborn to admit it’s what we needed.
Via bruxelles-campetre.be
Finally, we came to blows over something very inconsequential and admitted to each other that we both felt forsaken by the other when we got sick and that felt pretty miserable, it made the already unpleasant situation of sickness feel even worse. We both could completely relate to the sentiment and promised that even though it wasn’t in our nature to do so, we would make more of an effort to give more of a shit when the other was sick.
Via likeable.com
But how do you give a shit when you don’t? Let’s face it, nursing someone isn’t everyone’s favorite recreational past time, some are naturals at it but a lot of us just aren’t. You feel like a martyr for a second and that’s pretty righteous but eventually you just get bored and want to poke her with a stick. Don’t get me wrong, I love Natalie with all of my grinchy selfish heart and if she became seriously ill, I would put my world on hold without delay but remaining nurturing and positive while she undulates in torment for what seems like an exorbitant amount of time for a common cold isn’t without effort. Here are some easy things you can do when she falls ill to remain a virtuous beacon of comfort, even if you do about half of these things you should be golden and on your way to durable forever relations:
1. Make Her An Awesome Bed On The Couch!
Natalie is a professional couch bed maker and nothing makes me feel more loved and safe. You simply patch together all of your granny throws and blankets (NOT YOUR BED SHEETS, this defeats the purpose of the couch bed) kind of like Charlie’s car-bed from All Dogs Go To Heaven. The key is to tuck a base blanket into the couch that won’t slip out despite her clammy late night tossing and turning. What’s also important is to take a couple pillows from the bed (but that’s all you take from the bed, remember it’s a couch bed, don’t ruin it) for maximum comfort. Some may prefer the comfort of their beds during sickness, but this is a nice alternative for those that need a change of scenery through an extended illness.
2. Make a trip to the store for Ginger Ale, NyQuil, chicken/veggie soup or whatever other random craving she’s having.
It’s important not to judge her on this mission.
3. Touch Her
If you’re feeling extra loving, a massage is just the ticket to making your loved one feel like you are truly there for her because you want to be. You may not have the energy for the massage after catering to her every whim all day and I know she looks really unsavory covered in snot and tissue fibers, but she needs your ass right now so don’t be stingy. A Brigham Young Study actually showed that human touch lowers blood pressure and stress hormones, so get to touching, it’s SCIENCE.
Via animalscuddling.tumblr.com
I love and hate myself a little for this.
4. Check In At Least Three Times A Day
Make sure that you are actually asking her how she is feeling, if nothing else. Not acknowledging that she is sick or not feeling well will make her hate you secretly if not overtly. I know that there is no way that you would intentionally do this, right? You are probably caught up with some task at school or work but it’s important to let her know you’re thinking of her, even if you aren’t.
5. Stay Home With Her
This may not always be realistic, a lot of you have jobs or class that you can barely miss when YOU get sick but if you can swing it this is an extra special gesture.
6. Binge Her Favorite Show With Her
This pairs well with “staying home with her,” there’s nothing like robo-tripping to an all day 30 Rock marathon to bring you closer together.
7. Take Her To The Doctor
There is nothing lousier when you are sick than driving yourself to the doctor. I recently fell ill to The Flu and Natalie had to peel me off the couch and drag me to the doctor between convulsions, if she hadn’t I probably would have suffered immensely and eventually died in a pool of my own tears and vomit. At the end of the day, you might be saving a life.
Via americanbar.org
8. Cook
Cooking for someone else can be an incredibly loving gesture and even more so when that person is literally unable to cook for themselves. She may not eat what you cook and that might hurt your feelings a little, but remember she is sick and you are nursing her back to health like a baby bird or maybe you’re a terrible cook. I don’t really know, I don’t know you but it’s important that you tried.
9. Fetch Things For Her: tissue, ice water, heating pad, etc.
Pro tip – if you see her starting to get up, ask if you can grab something for her.
Do not sit idly while your sick girl hobbles into the kitchen to blot what’s left of her raw bleeding nose into generic paper towels. That is so sad!
10. If you can muster it, interjections like “aww” or phrases like “poor thang” go a long way.
This may be really difficult for some of you stone colders and if you cannot do it, I get it, you have to maintain that exterior at all costs even if that cost is your girlfriend’s sense of well being. But there is nothing like a saccharine acknowledgment from your loved one that she feels your pain that makes everything seem a little less unbearable. That’s what this is really all about.
Via wikipedia.org
DISCLAIMER:
This is not meant to disparage or make light of any persons or couples dealing with serious or life-threatening illnesses together, my heart goes out to you. This is mainly for you fools with head colds and stomach bugs.
What makes a relationship last? I’ve been with my GFF (girlfriend forever), Natalie, for 10 years as of April 24th 2014, and we are often asked how we got here. In How to Keep a Girl for 10 Years, I will attempt to breakdown the ideological construct of my healthy relationship with the hope that through my experiences, you can build your bridge with fewer casualties!
How To Keep A Girl For Ten Years: To Shack Up or Not To Shack Up?
Thinking about committed long-term relationships prior to being in one tends to dredge up the sort of irrational fear that eclipses even the most pedigreed problem solvers.
I heard Da Vinci was totally weirded out by it.
Entering into the world of monogamy and dare I say, cohabitation is a terrifying new frontier and it’s arguably much safer to stay put in the safe confines of twin beds and roomies. That way you can remain a shiftless Lothario forever, eating Ramen noodles straight no chaser and falling asleep with your jeans on. Staying single forever means never having to say you’re sorry but it also means picking up countless cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon from the living room and an occasional to semi-frequent loneliness that stings like stubbing your toe on frost-bite.
What’s so great about shacking up though?
Well class-holes, we have a lot of complicated chemicals moving us around the earth like Bernie Lomax, I imagine them to smell like a perm and look like the Starbucks lady procreated with Mombi. Basically, you have very little control over your impulses and trying to contain them only makes them stronger.
We are all here (well, most of us) to leave our insides apprehensively on someone’s doorstep to either step on or invite in for soup.
Natalie and I have managed to successfully co-exist for almost ten years and though it hasn’t always been easy, it feels so relatively effortless that I wonder if we have a special talent for relationships like those six year old prodigies who can work a piano like Liberace without even trying. We broke just about every single rule: moved in together very soon, got each other’s name tattooed early on in several, highly visible spots and we didn’t really think about it or talk about it, we just did it. Unfortunately, we are in the .001% of folks for whom this ends well, and have probably used up one of the few Get Out of Jail Free cards in existence for these sorts of things, so do as I say not as I do.
I did a lot of worrying before I met Natalie; I had a lot of uncomfortable, unanswered questions about dating and eventually living with someone I loved. It sounded like the scariest thing ever; being the most uncensored version of myself around someone who I wanted to put my most edited, photo-shopped and filtered face on for.
Would it be weird to go to bed fully clothed and in make-up? Probably. Will my jaw develop super-human strength able to bite through titanium from a steady rotation of Tic Tacs and Trident chewing 24 hours a day?
I worried how I would go to the bathroom and maintain my flawless Gynoid facade? What if we only have one bathroom and I have to go and I don’t mean pee. She will forever associate me with the smell of human waste, she will look at me and only see the shadow of defecation frolicking about our apartment with reckless abandon. I seriously worried a lot about this and figured I would probably have an impacted bowel shortly after moving in with Natalie. Turned out, Natalie had irritable bowel syndrome (sorry Natalie)! We were able to talk freely and candidly about our urges with a Fight Club-esque set of conditions that neither of us wanted to be the couple that hung around each other during this inevitable function of being. It was a private moment for us, meant to be done alone with plenty of time to run the bathroom fan and forever ruin whatever cologne we wanted to spray all over before re-entrance.
The reality is that these sorts of things barely matter. What matters before you move in together is that you’re ready because if you aren’t, you may not experience the symbiotic bliss that Natalie and I do, then maybe you will get an impacted bowel because you don’t feel close enough to talk about uncomfortable shit (literally).
I don’t know, I mean THIS guy.
BUT, how do you know you’re ready?
If you cannot retrieve her iTunes password via security question, don’t move in together. I can’t tell you how to live your lives or if you’re completely ready just because you can hack her iTunes, but I bet this eliminates a good many considering the big move. That’s right, you should know the city she was born in or her first pet’s name with no exceptions!
No exceptions!
Now, don’t go packing up your Doc Martens and food processors just because you pass this single lesbian litmus. Think of it as the first qualifier of many. Now you’re ready to move on to earn the Pendants of Life in The Temple Games Round — Legends of the Hidden Temple, anyone?
In The Temple Games Round (technically it goes, The Moat then Steps of Knowledge then The Temple Games Round, but let’s just shut up about it already) — you want to make sure you are not ensnared in the persuasive clutches of honeymoon bliss. The time period for this varies from couple to couple, but generally speaking if you think your partner can do no wrong, you are living in a world of fantasy and denial that does not compliment the cold, harsh reality you are about to face. She is not the perfect flower you think she is, unless that flower awakens with the breath of a hungry feral cat and nags you about dusting the blinds.
The final round is The Temple Run! Have you spent an extended amount of time with this person? Take a long vacation together, have barrels of sleepover parties complete with many talks about your expectations, board games and what each of you absolutely cannot compromise on. How does she feel about the length of time a dirty dish can exist in limbo between sink and dishwasher? How do you feel? Be totally honest because not being honest will only result in failure or dissatisfaction down the line. Climb down off that Veranda, Romeo, we know your bounty is as boundless as the sea and everything but remember — wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.
Above all, don’t let her or anyone else make the decision for you. If you have to be talked into it by her, her friends, a songbird, Morris Buttermaker or whomever then you need to trust your instincts and hold those horses.
It’s so majestic though.
Move in because you have both deliberated seriously and decided like grown adults.
(via warrenphotographic.co.uk)
GROWN ADULTS!
There we go.
Contribute to the conversation, what do you think the most important aspects are to consider before shacking up?
What makes a relationship last? I’ve been with my GFF (girlfriend forever), Natalie, for 10 years as of April 24th 2014, and we are often asked how we got here. In How to Keep a Girl for 10 Years, I will attempt to breakdown the ideological construct of my healthy relationship with the hope that through my experiences, you can build your bridge with fewer casualties!
How To Keep A Girl For 10 Years: She’s So High Above Me
I was inspired to write this article by a Formspring Friday post on Autostraddle, coincidentally almost exactly one year ago. This question was submitted from an Autostraddle reader:
I have a friend and she is like a 10 and I’m more of a 7, but I really like her but I understand that I don’t have a chance currently. Should I get to know her or agonize over becoming what she might want?
While trying to become something you’re not for someone else is generally a bad idea and utilizing “number ratings” should be reserved primarily for large guys in medium shirts — I totally got it and sympathized with her. On some level, we have all felt unworthy of something or someone. Starting from the moment we step foot into any social structure or begin consuming Western media, we connect what or who we are able to achieve to how good we look.
via nylonmag.com
I was a cute kindergartner, from early on I discovered the leverage that granted me; I cut a hole in my classmate’s sweatshirt for jollies and got away with it with barely a slap on the wrist. I spit on whatever unfortunate soul happened to sit in front of me on the bus. I launched a good one onto some twins for having the audacity to wear matching sapphire hair-bows — with a thoughtlessly crafted apology letter to the bus-driver, my sins were promptly forgiven. I sold strawberry baby aspirin to my classmates and I’m pretty sure the teacher knew and didn’t seem to mind. I have a vague memory of actually selling my teacher the baby aspirin, which doesn’t make much sense. Surely she could buy it herself at the store without risking her career and self respect. Maybe she thought I was kidding around, humored me and upon discovering how gravely serious I actually was, she was struck speechless, in awe of my brazen ambition.
My looks degraded as I grew into my pre-teen form; other kids experienced growth spurts that I did not and the sun’s rays did not grace me with the golden hue it did my mostly Italian American peers, more of a tone closer to Pink Lady Apple. This appropriately complimented my ballooning figure that I nurtured through a steady diet of pasta and bagels. It was easy for teachers to discipline me in the same way that it’s easier to step on a bug than it is a puppy. I gradually transformed into an insecure, apologetic wallflower — I knew that life was harder now and maybe I deserved it through all of my sinister advantages as a kindergartner. I found that my underwhelming aesthetic diminished my talent and intelligence, I found teachers applauding more attractive students for less than what I was producing. Like the dexterous cuttlefish struggling for survival, I adapted.
As a teenager I tried to become what I thought everyone wanted for my own mental and scholastic survival; I was active in soccer & lacrosse, I mimicked whatever clothing the most popular girls wore, I barely ate and I desperately frequented tanning beds transitioning from Pink Lady Apple to Valencia Orange. I hadn’t actually come out of my cocoon, I was a caterpillar in butterfly’s clothing but believing I was ugly and believing I was disguising my ugliness were just two different forms of the same evil.
After graduating from the traumatic torture porn that was high school, college became a new landscape full of opportunity to be someone I never was before — myself. Well, if myself was my best Jane Fonda’s 1970s Cleveland mugshot impression. The important thing was, every physical decision I made whether it was inspired or not was because I wanted to not because I felt that I had to. I wasn’t attractive because I was trying to be, I was attractive because I finally believed that I was.
When I met Natalie, it was hard to ward off all of the feelings the Autostraddle reader above mentioned. I had just recently sloughed off years of conditioning to feel self confident. I was initially attracted to her physically, I knew she was beautiful and for some reason that called my own beauty into question. Maybe technically she was prettier, referencing the rigid number scale I was surely a couple notches below her — this suspicion was validated through the admiring looks that constantly glossed over my head to her tall, thin stature. We could both be wearing identical sequin turbans and 9 times out of 10 her turban would be revered as the next must-have fall fashion accessory, mine an afterthought if it were even noticed at all. Natalie was always uncomfortably aware of this — “oh no, look at her turban, it’s much better” she’d say, knowing they were the same, protecting my heart like a mother octopus.
Fact: a mother octopus will ingest her own arms for sustenance while protecting her eggs, often dying after birth as a result.
While I want to tell the reader that looks don’t matter, and ultimately they don’t, I know society tells a different story that feels very real and can make you feel like your potential cannot extend past the length of your legs. Natalie and I were attracted to each other physically, but no matter how attractive we were or weren’t physically, so many other things mattered so much more, we had a connection that surpassed her perfect nose or my great ass. A relationship thrives on brains and heart, not T&A.
If you’re feeling like she’s got a fire so hot that you cannot touch her, some words of advice:
1. If she won’t be with you because you’re not as physically attractive, why do you want to be with her?
This is sort of a “which came first” argument, but someone who cannot get past the fact that her hair parts a little more effortlessly to the side than yours is stuck in the phase I went through in high-school. If for some reason, you negotiate her highness to stay with you, she will bring nothing but pain, misery and boredom into your life. It doesn’t matter that her eyes pierce through your heart because she dots her I’s with hearts and that’s far worse.
2. Maybe she thinks YOU’RE the ten and she’s the seven.
Tell me about it, stud.
3. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.
You can’t go out to bars without flocks of men and women alike clamoring over her like the heart of the mother loving ocean. Don’t shrink into a quivering polyp. Put your arm around that lady with pride and ogle her with the best of them, honk her boob if you must — people will respect your confidence and back off in most instances. I call this the peacock tactic: stand tall, show that fancy tail of yours and its luminescent bouquet of charisma.
4. You are correct in thinking if she isn’t attracted to you, it won’t work out BUT…
There’s a lot of different evidence regarding what attracts whom and why; some studies show that neotenuous features (small nose, large eyes and full lips) attract people in certain populations, but it’s difficult to develop a lot of concrete evidence as to why. I suspect there is much more to it than the symmetry of your face or the subjective preferences of one person to the next. The truth is, she may not be attracted to you and that is beyond your control. I’ll say it one more time — that is beyond your control. Marilyn Monroe said “I think sexuality is only attractive when it’s natural and spontaneous” which couldn’t be more true. I guarantee that the thin veneer will fade with time if you try to change yourself to suit someone’s pallet. Be your authentic self, do what is healthy for your body and above all try to spend an equal or greater amount of time expanding your mind as you do expanding your collection of eyeliner pencils and Crest Whitening Strips.
5. “Enough of this Oprah Soul Sunday “love thyself” bullshit, can you actually give me some real advice on snagging and keeping that hottie I so desire?”
Okay, phantom Autostraddle heckler! If she has a smorgasbord of admirers, it’s going to take a little bit of work to stand out in the crowd. It’s sort of like applying for a job at Google: a lot of people want a job at Google and that’s why you have to make a collage of line dancing water moccasins in neon tube socks on your cover letter to stand out.
5a. Let her know you dig her but don’t be cliche about it. “Hey, I like your hair” or “you’re so hawt” are not effective forms of flattery. They hear that kind of thing regularly and will toss you into the NO pile with haste. Invite her to go to the Carnivore Preservation Trust or The Lemur Center — assure her that you will cloak her with your favorite cardigan should one of the ocelots attempt to mark her. Maybe throw something in there about marking her later, actually don’t say that.
5b. Don’t come on too strong. Confidence is key, dumping a hot steamy mass of relentless praise on her right off the bat can backfire and make you seem desperate. It’s a turn off to feel worshiped by someone who barely knows you. A turn off at best and a restraining order at worst.
5c. Check your breath, check your smell, wash your hair. I’m serious, lick your hand and smell it, minty fresh or hot mess?
5d. Take a hint. Have you coolly and confidentially let her know how you feel in the most uniquely outstanding and honest way you can possibly muster? Does she keep putting you off or dodging your madcap adventure invites? It seems like she’s just not that into you. Luckily, she’s humane enough to not string you along until she finally confesses it over a basket of barely-touched bread sticks at Olive Garden after three months of pity dating you. Stop e-mailing her, stop texting her, stop inviting her to do things that you know she will politely come up with a creative reason to dodge. You keep doing you (merch for sale here) and eventually you will find that special someone who makes you feel just the right amount of unworthy.
Feature Image via lemoderntrinket.blogspot.com
How To Keep A Girl For 10 Years: My Top Five Most Ridiculous Arguments And You
Have you ever fought about something so unequivocally ridiculous that you just got lost in it? Suddenly, you’re throwing your belongings into trash bags and discussing who is going to get the Keurig and you only suggested it was her turn to clean the chili pot. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter how immaterial patient zero is, the epidemic devastates the same.
I am going to add eight hours and $120 in hotel fees back into your bank account right now with one easy piece of advice — count to ten. I know this may be the first time you’ve heard this since your life coach (aka Mom) suggested it as a kid but hear me out. It wasn’t until adulthood that I truly understood what this meant, I simply saw it as some sort of confusing proverb for hippies — it never made sense for me to contain my anger. My anger was the trademark of my identity. It wasn’t until I recognized the nuances between important and unimportant anger that I was effective in controlling it.
(via easyart.com)
The healing properties and wisdom of silence are possibly the most under-celebrated forms of relationship counseling I know of. Edgar Allen Poe noted that a true genius prefers silence over “saying something that is not everything that should be said.” Rumi celebrated the eloquence of silence, “stop weaving and see how the pattern improves.” Silence gets confused too often with lack of communication, but silence is articulate, the perfect rebuttal — we fail to communicate when we stop listening to each other and just because we’re talking doesn’t mean we’re communicating. The next time she says or does something that makes you feel inflated with anger, consider the insignificance of helium — the second most abundant and lightest element in the known universe. Count to ten, count to twenty, count until you forget what you were angry about in the first place.
Throughout the years, my girlfriend and I have mastered the ancient art of “when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em” popularized by Kenny Rogers, though it took many years of bickering over truly absurd and frivolous matters to get here. Below are the top five most idiotic topics in the history of Natalie and Robyn fights. Next time you’re ready to throw in the towel over some spilled milk, toss that somabitch over the puddle instead because there is a fruitful and rewarding relationship waiting for you at the end of your dumb fight about nothing.
I have titled each fight after the final episodes of the whitest show on television, Friends. Good riddance pointless fights and good riddance Friends! Also, know that all of these arguments will be depicted in a way that is incredibly biased in my favor.
…. Are you kidding? We don’t even wear the color black.
1. The One About Bath Mats
In the bathroom there are several mats; one in front of the sink, one in front of the toilet AND one that sits in front of the shower, at least there should be. Natalie, since I have known her, has used a small towel in lieu of a mat that sits on the edge of the tub and needs to be removed for every shower use so it doesn’t get soaked, which is a huge inconvenience. For a very long time, in silent protest, I refused to remove the towel during my showers. You know the moment when your mom finally discovers the vase or dish or whatever shit she loved that you broke and stuffed in the trash? That is how I felt every evening when Natalie would emerge from the bathroom with the inundated towel in hand, discovering that again I had neglected to remove the “bath mat” during my shower. “Oops” I shrugged, “I just keep forgetting,” I could feel her patience waning. I continued playing dumb until the eventual eruption; “are you doing this on purpose!?” I conceded that this was not second nature to me, why couldn’t we just get a permanent mat like normal people? Eventually I gave in because resistance was futile. Now every time I take a shower, I ceremoniously lay down the bath towel to allow for its metamorphosis into the bath mat. I still hop over it on to the mat in front of the sink after my shower, just out of principal — a small victory for the integrity of the bath mat.
2. The One About Baby Gas Masks
Natalie is a casual hoarder. In my years with her, I have successfully found places for antique baby gas masks, chucky dolls, various medieval medical wares, twenty California Raisins, poison, ceramic Chinese Crested statues, three typewriters, a Zeiss microscope, old pencil sharpeners AND MORE to ad nauseum. The problem is, we have sacrificed precious square footage in favor of better amenities and location, which complicates her need to prepare for a mid century nuclear holocaust.
Recently, she learned the art of “extreme couponing” which has created an area of chaos behind the living room sectional; we have ten boxes of Kix, fifteen containers of Purex and enough Pop Secret to open a small movie theater and that is just the tip of the iceberg. I wouldn’t call our apartment cluttered. I have managed (miraculously) to find a space for most things — occasionally that space is the trash or Goodwill — but it is a constant balancing act and we have come to blows many times over it. Over time we’ve compromised, she buys less from the flea market and I complain less about her selections with the mutual understanding that when I cry uncle, it is time to donate or trash. “My family is visiting for the holidays” I would say cautiously, “we need to do something with all those Hillary Clinton shirts you had printed when you went through that phase,” I find that addressing one issue at a time compartmentalizes things for her. “Then we can begin doing something with all those febreze car vent clips.”
3. The One About The Car
I had never owned a new car, so when I earned enough money to purchase my 2007 (in 2007) Black Limited Edition Jetta, I was elated. I felt like Hollywood royalty. Natalie, at the time, drove a white Mitsubishi Montero Sport — a respectable and meticulously maintained sport utility vehicle, but a couple years older than the Jetta. I could tell my new car smell was puncturing every inch of her willpower, still I hoped she would let me have this moment. When Natalie pulled into the driveway in her new black sedan with beige leather interior, just like my Jetta — I was furious. When I realized it was a BMW I wanted to roundhouse kick her into the next millennium.
It wasn’t that it was the same color scheme or that it instantly deemed my car the Rhoda to her Mary, and it wasn’t even that she bought it so soon after I bought mine — it was all of those things combined. I packed all of my belongings and booked a room at the nearest Amerisuites hotel. I even purchased a one way plane ticket back to New York, ironically planning to leave my brand new Jetta abandoned in the moderately priced hotel chain’s parking lot. However, Natalie tracked me to the nearest Amerisuites like a regular forest carnivore before I could leave. I remember the look on her face when I opened the door, her eyes tearing and red with worry — she was sorry, whether or not she should have been is and was irrelevant. She never looked so defeated and small as she did in that moment, hunched over and scared she fell into my arms sobbing and I knew that I was a fool for caring about anything other than keeping her in my life forever.
4. The One About Natalie’s Continued Fixation With Miley Cyrus Despite Anything She Says Or Does
Please help.
5. The One About The Joker Kitchen
When Natalie and I moved into our first home together, we were excited to express our individuality through various wall paints. We spent hours picking out the brightest and most unusual paint colors we could at Home Depot and exhausted ourselves applying layer after layer of key lime green to our living room walls. After the ill conceived pairing of chili pepper red and babouche yellow in the bathroom, I welcomed the absence of color in the kitchen — our last neutral wall. Of course I didn’t vocalize this, I figured it was implied with every craving for McDonald’s french fries we had to endure while showering. Imagine my surprise when I returned home after a day’s work to see our kitchen transformed into the Joker’s villainous lair. Menacing deep purples and light greens maniacally surrounded me and suddenly I couldn’t imagine baking a pie in this kitchen that wasn’t stuffed with cyanide. I knew Natalie worked tirelessly all day to surprise me and I wasn’t sure I could mask my disappointment, admittedly I don’t believe that I tried. “You never said that you didn’t want to paint the kitchen” Natalie was frustrated by my lack of enthusiasm. It’s not that I didn’t want to paint the kitchen, it’s that I didn’t want to paint the kitchen with the trademark colors of a murderous psychopath.
We sat in silence the entire night except for Natalie’s occasional offer to “allow” me to repaint the entire kitchen — “you can repaint it if you don’t like it, but it’s going to be really tough to go over that dark purple.” If only I had a flower I could spray at her filled with corrosive acid, I plotted silently — I felt the slow transformation beginning. Ultimately I concluded that there had to be a compromise, there was no distress signal I could cast into the night sky to resolve the situation, it was on me to accept this kitchen as my own. The next day I assured Natalie that the colors would grow on me and that I appreciated the gesture. I feigned delight affixing myself with a disingenuous and severe grin that rivaled The Joker himself.
Share your most absurd entanglements and their level of destruction in your relationships so that we all may feel a little less alone!
How to Keep a Girl for 10 Years: 5 Steps To A Better Y’all!
What makes a relationship last? I’ve been with my GFF (girlfriend forever), Natalie, for 10 years as of April 24th 2014, and we are often asked how we got here. I guess there is just something mysterious and possibly more treacherous about a long-term queer relationship. I am not sure what the mechanics are but I liken it to 19th century bridge building; a painstakingly rewarding process of learning the landscapes, suspending cables with caution and care to align just right in the middle and not collapse under the weight of the world. In this column I will attempt to breakdown the ideological construct of my healthy relationship with the hope that through my experiences that you can build your bridge with less casualties.
According to a 2011 study by The Williams Institute at UCLA School of Law, 3.5% of the US adult population identify as gay, bisexual or lesbian; 1.1% of women identify as lesbian and 2.2% as bisexual. If Jerry Seinfeld is accurate, and of course he is, 95% of that percentage is UNDATEABLE — that’s slim pickins. While one school of thought might say this would ENCOURAGE fidelity, most of us know quite the opposite is true. For every one of you, there are twenty other rad chicks sewing locks of your hair into voodoo dolls and writing haiku on their typewriters for your girlfriend RIGHT NOW thinking she’s the one. When there is less of anything, “the one” may actually come along as infrequently as one time.
Think about it, I haven’t.
What defense do you have against this endless cavalcade of grand romantic gestures, you ask? In my first installment of How To Keep A Girl For Ten Years, I explore the notion of solidarity through individualism, selflessness and creativity. Below are five things I’ve done in my relationship to ensure a reliable bedrock no amount of unwelcome haiku or Thai soap carvings could shatter.
1. Do Not Merge Your Closets
A go-to for slushy straight girls attempting to identify with lesbian relationships is, “hey, at least your wardrobe doubles, hehehe.” As if it were some sort of consolation prize for all the vagina I’m going to have to endure. Natalie and I never merged our closets (though we do borrow on rare occasions) and we have always had the mutual understanding that personal style correlates to our sense of individuality. Do you really want to be the Jennifer Jason Leigh to her Bridget Fonda? This is a gradual descent into losing your identities and becoming creepy carbon copies of each other. Avoid.
Via oldies.com and horrorpedia.com
2. Say The Nice Things You’re Thinking
Natalie is the Camille Doncieux to my Monet (if my accomplishments extended past acquiring a taste for sashimi, that is) — she is exceedingly charming and attributively blessed, she encounters the kind of casual fanfare I can only daydream about with every floral denim print I employ. This initially attracted me, then intimidated me, followed by a sense of grief, insecurity and hopelessness — what can I tell her that she hasn’t already heard? Come to find out, when I don’t tell her the positive things I am thinking about her, she naturally assumes I am not thinking them at all. I don’t know what I was afraid of, maybe there is a sense of vulnerability in offering someone a compliment, or an implied submissiveness in the gesture. However, we are no longer deprived of flattery; there is not an inch of her person, intellect or accomplishments I don’t applaud with the vigor and vim of a caffeinated mascot. And she roots for me, too — she’s got the Robyn commemorative pen, the laser etched money clip, the tote, the scarf, the jersey, the decoder ring and the sapphire earrings. Jill Scott said it best — “You can never be too stingy with compliments.” What are you waiting for?
3. Say Goodbye To Exes As Friends (Also, Friends Who Are In Love With You)
A controversial subject, as I know many folks who champion their friendship with the ex as though it were a cherished miracle in the canonization of their relationship sainthood. However, I guarantee their very presence in your life is like a gelatinous toxin congesting the very heart of your relationship with every slurred sentence your ex finishes for you at parties. I included “friends who are in love with you (FILWY)” here as well, possibly even more carcinogenic than the ex. FILWY regenerate like flatworms with every kerfuffle between you and your girl — renewed by the potential demise of your union. That’s some bad ju-ju and who has the time for the sort of ceremonial drumming it’s going to take to clear that mess? I know it isn’t easy to let go of them, they adore you and that’s nurturing your giant ego but it’s time to set them free.
This means YOU, Julia.
Via silvereagleexperiment.blogspot.com
4. Don’t Stop Creating
Contrary to what you may have heard, being happily in love shouldn’t stifle creativity. A recent study by Jens Förster, Kai Epstude, and Amina Özelsel at The University of Amsterdam found that being in love alters our pattern of thought, triggering what is referred to as “global processing.” Global processing encourages big picture, “long term” thinking and inhibits logical thinking (local processing, short term) — like, maybe I should dramatically lay in the middle of the road over a small fight. A global thinker may see an odd piece of glass and consider writing a song about it, a local thinker would just avoid stepping on it. People don’t lose their creativity in a happy relationship, they just gain someone to do more fun mindless crap with; Twilight Zone marathons, giant mazes, cooking, carnivals, Disney World, mini golf, Mario Kart, shots of tequila — this stuff is easy and the best in pairs, it’s refined sugar and we overdose on it. Designate one day a week to be creative together or apart and don’t bare down on your happiness like a crutch destroying the very soil that nourished the person she fell in love with in the first place!
5. Shut Up
“To keep your marriage brimming, With love in the loving cup, Whenever you’re wrong, admit it; Whenever you’re right, shut up.”
-Ogden Nash
I know you’re dying to calmly inquire if she’s trying to make as much noise as possible when putting the dishes away but let it go.
Special Note: This is the experience of just two people in a great big world and doesn’t necessarily reflect what will work for you and yours. Add to the discussion — if you are in a long term healthy relationship, what has worked for you?
feature image via vintage lesbians