Hello, readers! I'm making another announcement about upcoming changes here.
As you may have noticed in some of my recent posts, money is on my mind. More and more, i am coming to hate my job; this past week was supremely shitty, and i'm starting to look elsewhere for employment.
In the meantime, i am not too proud to take money where i can find it. Therefore, i have just applied for an AdSense account. It will take 48 hours for the application to process, so it will be Sunday evening before you see any changes.
I know how much ads suck, and i will work hard to keep them from becoming intrusive or distracting. And if i find that they are just too overwhelming or inappropriate, or if they're not making as much money as i'd like, i will discontinue the service.
Please let me know if you are at all bothered by the change, or if there are specific ads you'd rather not see. I want to work with my readers to make sure we all have a great experience here.
Thanks and have a great weekend :)
Showing posts with label settle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label settle. Show all posts
Friday, June 29, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
Ghosts of Boyfriends Past: Casey
I don't like thinking too much about "Casey", but it's good to get it out.
In my sophomore year of college, i was recovering from my first love. I was finally starting to move on, when along came Casey. He was a senior, and had spent the last semester studying at Oxford.
Initially, he was interested in my friend Emily, but after she rejected him he took an interest in me. I had always had a thing for him, despite my gut feeling that he was an asshole. Our relationship progressed slowly; it was April, and he was graduating in May. Plus there was the awkwardness of Emily to deal with. We were all three uncomfortable with the situation, and each of us was jealous of the others for one reason or another. It was messy.
In late April/early May, Casey and i were making out almost every day, though the words "relationship" and "boyfriend/girlfriend" had yet to be spoken, except in jest. He told me that he loved me, and that he wanted to marry me and raise children with me and settle down with me, but he would not call me his girlfriend. I was hopelessly besotted and was certain that everything would work out in time.
After graduation, his plan was to have his parents pay his rent and other expenses while he figured out what he wanted to do with his life. Shockingly, they objected to this plan, and brought him back with them to Texas. I was devastated by the separation, but he assured me that all would be well.
And for a time, it was. We talked constantly on Facebook, AIM, and text. I downloaded Skype and bought a webcam; he promised that he'd get around to it. We talked about his dreams, goals, desires, trying to figure out his calling in life. But as the summer went on, things got more and more strained. I was living on campus and had no friends nearby. He was living at home and likewise alone. We were both slipping into a depression, but while i clung to him as my source of light and comfort, he pushed me away. He wanted to wallow in his misery.
Toward the end of July, he was in a wedding in Massachusetts. He came up for a long weekend, and he got a hotel room. For the first time in my life, i shared a bed with a lover. Yet despite our closeness, we still lacked intimacy. There was a wall between us, and i didn't know how to get rid of it. Things came to a head on his last night. We had had a fight, and i was crying silently in the corner of the bed. I would have left, but it was dark and well after midnight and nearly a mile to walk back to campus. He noticed my trembling, and suddenly his arms were around me and he was whispering in my ear. He apologized for his distance and coldness, and begged my forgiveness. He promised that things would get better soon, that he would snap out of it and figure out his life, that he would move back to New England and we would be together.
That was the night that i almost had sex.
I was nineteen, naked, and saying yes, but Casey couldn't follow through. I later concluded (perhaps falsely; i'm not sure) that it was because he loved me. He told me that night that he knew i wanted to wait, that he didn't want to ruin my future, that he didn't want to ruin our future. So he abstained, and we slept together in only the most literal sense.
Over the next few weeks, our communication grew steadily more sporadic. From August to February, he did not speak to me at all. I wrote him letters almost daily, and saved them in a bundle to send to him one day.
At last, he contacted me again. We started to talk, and i sent him my letters. Our relationship took off to new heights. He had pulled out of his depression and was determined to find a job -- any job -- and save up to move back to me. He would go through Hell to be at my side, my love would sustain him through any trial, and together we would have a wonderful life.
But he couldn't follow through. His depression and self-doubt continued to hound him, and prevented him from supporting me. Understand this: i believed then and still do now that Casey loved me as completely as he was able to. I just don't believe that he was capable of very much love. He couldn't support me in my endeavors if he was not personally interested in them. It wasn't enough to love me. He couldn't ask about my day, he couldn't ask about my writing, he couldn't ask about my friends, my family, or my faith. I eventually realized that he only loved me in relation to himself. He only loved me because i was pretty and smart and talented and i loved him. He could see this wonderful creature who was interested in him and feel better about himself. Beyond that, i had no value to him. He didn't care about any intricacies of my personality and character that were not directly involved with his ego. He just wanted brainy arm candy, and if i had hobbies outside of him, that was fine. But he had no desire to be involved with any parts of my life that didn't intersect with his.
Finally, i ended it. My heart had been so broken and bruised that i had nothing left to give him. He begged for a second chance, but i was reluctant to give it. We continued to talk every day, but i was growing tired of his neediness and his shallow interest in me. Finally, after the whole Theo thing, i knew i had to tell him what i had done. Not because he was my boyfriend and i had been unfaithful, but because he wanted to be my boyfriend and i thought he was entitled to know the truth. I also had a presentiment that he would want nothing further to do with me when he found out what i'd done.
I was right. He told me that he wanted nothing further to do with me, that he never wanted to think about me again, and after one very strange email exchange that September, we never spoke again.
In my sophomore year of college, i was recovering from my first love. I was finally starting to move on, when along came Casey. He was a senior, and had spent the last semester studying at Oxford.
Initially, he was interested in my friend Emily, but after she rejected him he took an interest in me. I had always had a thing for him, despite my gut feeling that he was an asshole. Our relationship progressed slowly; it was April, and he was graduating in May. Plus there was the awkwardness of Emily to deal with. We were all three uncomfortable with the situation, and each of us was jealous of the others for one reason or another. It was messy.
In late April/early May, Casey and i were making out almost every day, though the words "relationship" and "boyfriend/girlfriend" had yet to be spoken, except in jest. He told me that he loved me, and that he wanted to marry me and raise children with me and settle down with me, but he would not call me his girlfriend. I was hopelessly besotted and was certain that everything would work out in time.
After graduation, his plan was to have his parents pay his rent and other expenses while he figured out what he wanted to do with his life. Shockingly, they objected to this plan, and brought him back with them to Texas. I was devastated by the separation, but he assured me that all would be well.
And for a time, it was. We talked constantly on Facebook, AIM, and text. I downloaded Skype and bought a webcam; he promised that he'd get around to it. We talked about his dreams, goals, desires, trying to figure out his calling in life. But as the summer went on, things got more and more strained. I was living on campus and had no friends nearby. He was living at home and likewise alone. We were both slipping into a depression, but while i clung to him as my source of light and comfort, he pushed me away. He wanted to wallow in his misery.
Toward the end of July, he was in a wedding in Massachusetts. He came up for a long weekend, and he got a hotel room. For the first time in my life, i shared a bed with a lover. Yet despite our closeness, we still lacked intimacy. There was a wall between us, and i didn't know how to get rid of it. Things came to a head on his last night. We had had a fight, and i was crying silently in the corner of the bed. I would have left, but it was dark and well after midnight and nearly a mile to walk back to campus. He noticed my trembling, and suddenly his arms were around me and he was whispering in my ear. He apologized for his distance and coldness, and begged my forgiveness. He promised that things would get better soon, that he would snap out of it and figure out his life, that he would move back to New England and we would be together.
That was the night that i almost had sex.
I was nineteen, naked, and saying yes, but Casey couldn't follow through. I later concluded (perhaps falsely; i'm not sure) that it was because he loved me. He told me that night that he knew i wanted to wait, that he didn't want to ruin my future, that he didn't want to ruin our future. So he abstained, and we slept together in only the most literal sense.
Over the next few weeks, our communication grew steadily more sporadic. From August to February, he did not speak to me at all. I wrote him letters almost daily, and saved them in a bundle to send to him one day.
At last, he contacted me again. We started to talk, and i sent him my letters. Our relationship took off to new heights. He had pulled out of his depression and was determined to find a job -- any job -- and save up to move back to me. He would go through Hell to be at my side, my love would sustain him through any trial, and together we would have a wonderful life.
But he couldn't follow through. His depression and self-doubt continued to hound him, and prevented him from supporting me. Understand this: i believed then and still do now that Casey loved me as completely as he was able to. I just don't believe that he was capable of very much love. He couldn't support me in my endeavors if he was not personally interested in them. It wasn't enough to love me. He couldn't ask about my day, he couldn't ask about my writing, he couldn't ask about my friends, my family, or my faith. I eventually realized that he only loved me in relation to himself. He only loved me because i was pretty and smart and talented and i loved him. He could see this wonderful creature who was interested in him and feel better about himself. Beyond that, i had no value to him. He didn't care about any intricacies of my personality and character that were not directly involved with his ego. He just wanted brainy arm candy, and if i had hobbies outside of him, that was fine. But he had no desire to be involved with any parts of my life that didn't intersect with his.
Finally, i ended it. My heart had been so broken and bruised that i had nothing left to give him. He begged for a second chance, but i was reluctant to give it. We continued to talk every day, but i was growing tired of his neediness and his shallow interest in me. Finally, after the whole Theo thing, i knew i had to tell him what i had done. Not because he was my boyfriend and i had been unfaithful, but because he wanted to be my boyfriend and i thought he was entitled to know the truth. I also had a presentiment that he would want nothing further to do with me when he found out what i'd done.
I was right. He told me that he wanted nothing further to do with me, that he never wanted to think about me again, and after one very strange email exchange that September, we never spoke again.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Ghosts of Boyfriends Past: James
A friend of mine coined a term in college: Freshman Mulligan. For those of you (like me) who are not up on your golf terms, a mulligan is a free do-over. Basically, if you mess up your stroke, you can take it over again and the bad one isn't counted on your score-card.
A freshman mulligan is a relationship in your freshman year of college that is a really terrible idea, but you're a freshman, so you get to date someone else and pretend that the old one never happened.
James is my very messy, complicated, unfortunate, regretful Freshman Mulligan.
The day i moved into my freshman dorm was the day that my parents decided to separate. My first care package from home, in October, contained a letter from my mom. Tucked in between the funny stories from home and the advice about college life were a few lines about her marriage. They were in therapy, but she didn't have much hope for a future.
Obviously, i was not in any condition to get into a serious relationship. So obviously, that was exactly what i did. James was a kid i'd known for two or three years from church events. He was really sweet and gentle, like a teddy bear. I knew that he was safe and loyal and easy, that being with him would be effortless, that i could take shelter in his affection without risking my heart. I liked him, but i knew from the start that this would never be a serious relationship.
There were other issues with our relationship. He was far more conservative than i, and constantly disagreed with me on things like my desire to get a tattoo, or my bellybutton ring. Also, he very much wanted to find a good Christian girl in college, settle down and get married, and be a pastor. I am not cut out to be a traditional pastor's wife, and he wouldn't be anything but a traditional pastor, his facial piercings and Chucks notwithstanding. I was seventeen and hurt and vulnerable and terrified, and didn't want to think about marriage just yet. But even before we started dating, he was thinking about how my first name would sound with his last one. Even before we started dating, he was thinking about the kids we'd have.
We dated for barely four months before i was strong enough to cut it off. He'd known it was coming, but was still bitter and angry and jealous, convinced that i was dating a mutual (flamboyantly gay) friend. He said nasty things behind my back and through text messages, he got very angry whenever he saw me with my gay "boyfriend", and he brooded all over campus for the next three months. And then he started dating a fabulously beautiful blonde athletic genius. They got married two years later.
A friend of mine once asked how James, who was of average intelligence, charm, and looks, had managed to land two of the most attractive girls in our graduating class. I can't speak for his wife, but i can say that while James may have been pretty nondescript and a little annoying, he was nice. And he was safe. And sometimes, that's all you're looking for.
A freshman mulligan is a relationship in your freshman year of college that is a really terrible idea, but you're a freshman, so you get to date someone else and pretend that the old one never happened.
James is my very messy, complicated, unfortunate, regretful Freshman Mulligan.
The day i moved into my freshman dorm was the day that my parents decided to separate. My first care package from home, in October, contained a letter from my mom. Tucked in between the funny stories from home and the advice about college life were a few lines about her marriage. They were in therapy, but she didn't have much hope for a future.
Obviously, i was not in any condition to get into a serious relationship. So obviously, that was exactly what i did. James was a kid i'd known for two or three years from church events. He was really sweet and gentle, like a teddy bear. I knew that he was safe and loyal and easy, that being with him would be effortless, that i could take shelter in his affection without risking my heart. I liked him, but i knew from the start that this would never be a serious relationship.
There were other issues with our relationship. He was far more conservative than i, and constantly disagreed with me on things like my desire to get a tattoo, or my bellybutton ring. Also, he very much wanted to find a good Christian girl in college, settle down and get married, and be a pastor. I am not cut out to be a traditional pastor's wife, and he wouldn't be anything but a traditional pastor, his facial piercings and Chucks notwithstanding. I was seventeen and hurt and vulnerable and terrified, and didn't want to think about marriage just yet. But even before we started dating, he was thinking about how my first name would sound with his last one. Even before we started dating, he was thinking about the kids we'd have.
We dated for barely four months before i was strong enough to cut it off. He'd known it was coming, but was still bitter and angry and jealous, convinced that i was dating a mutual (flamboyantly gay) friend. He said nasty things behind my back and through text messages, he got very angry whenever he saw me with my gay "boyfriend", and he brooded all over campus for the next three months. And then he started dating a fabulously beautiful blonde athletic genius. They got married two years later.
A friend of mine once asked how James, who was of average intelligence, charm, and looks, had managed to land two of the most attractive girls in our graduating class. I can't speak for his wife, but i can say that while James may have been pretty nondescript and a little annoying, he was nice. And he was safe. And sometimes, that's all you're looking for.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Ghosts of Boyfriends Past: Ford/Victor
Since neither of these relationships lasted for longer than a month, i'm combining them into one entry.
"Ford" was first. When i was fourteen, my friends and i started inexplicably taking late-night trips to Acme (grocery store). Looking back, i'm sure these trips really only happened half a dozen times, but it seemed like we were there once a week, usually to stock up on chips and soda for a sleepover.
There was one bag boy who was HOT. And i don't mean that we were fourteen and thought he was cute but really he was dorky. I mean he looked like an Abercrombie model. He was clearly older than we were, but no one was sure how much older. He always seemed to be there when we were, and always seemed to be looking at me. I actually didn't notice his attention until one of my friends pointed it out.
"Acme Boy is staring at you!" she whispered piercingly.
"What? No. I'm sure he's looking at all of us," i whispered back.
But the other girls soon confirmed it: Acme Boy had eyes only for me. Many months went by of awkward staring and smiling. When i was there with my mom, he'd check me out. When i was there with my friends, he'd check me out. Finally, one day, i was there with my uncle. As we were in the checkout line, Acme Boy was bagging groceries two lanes away. A few minutes later, he found a reason to move to the very next line. We continued staring and grinning until i was distracted by my uncle. Suddenly, Acme Boy was standing right next to me, and he slipped me a piece of paper, whispering, "Call me." On it was his name and number.
My friends and i were speechless with giggles. (What? We were fourteen. The stereotype is true: teenage girls giggle a lot.) My mom encouraged me to call, which i did the next day.
As it turned out, Ford was seventeen. He had just turned seventeen, and i was two months away from my fifteenth birthday, so it wasn't that significant a gap. As it further turned out, Ford had not realized that i was fourteen. He had thought i was twelve.
We continued chatting (and made out a few times) over the next few weeks, until Ford learned that i didn't want to have sex until i was married. I never heard from him again, though my sisters have since spotted him waiting tables at a sports bar. They say he has put on weight, and they are pretty sure he's gay.
"Victor", oddly enough, was an old friend of Fusco. I met him when my brother started taking Tae Kwon Do in town. Victor was in his class. He looked like a Hollister model, combining skater-boy edge with big blue eyes, dimples, and golden curls. I fell for him instantly and kept crushing on him for an entire year, even during the whole Ford fiasco. But he had a girlfriend.
Eventually, however, they broke up, he noticed me, and we started texting. I was nearly heartbroken when i learned that he was interested in a girl from my youth group, and tried to dissuade him by persuading him of her craziness (which was true, by the way. She was crazy.) The next day, he asked me out. Obviously i should have turned him down, but i was fifteen and he was really cute.
We dated for nearly three months before he broke it off because he was "going through some stuff" and needed to face it alone, like a "lone wolf". It wasn't until a few months after that that i learned he'd been cheating on me with the crazy girl from my youth group. Or maybe he was cheating on her with me. I never found out enough about the timeline to be sure, and i never wanted to. I did find out that he had been basically molesting her for their entire relationship. She was two years younger than we were (thirteen), and way too young and sheltered to be dating an older boy or to be making mature decisions about her sexuality. He'd pressured her into all kinds of things, and i am just selfish enough to still be glad that, for whatever reason, i had managed to escape that part of his character.
"Ford" was first. When i was fourteen, my friends and i started inexplicably taking late-night trips to Acme (grocery store). Looking back, i'm sure these trips really only happened half a dozen times, but it seemed like we were there once a week, usually to stock up on chips and soda for a sleepover.
There was one bag boy who was HOT. And i don't mean that we were fourteen and thought he was cute but really he was dorky. I mean he looked like an Abercrombie model. He was clearly older than we were, but no one was sure how much older. He always seemed to be there when we were, and always seemed to be looking at me. I actually didn't notice his attention until one of my friends pointed it out.
"Acme Boy is staring at you!" she whispered piercingly.
"What? No. I'm sure he's looking at all of us," i whispered back.
But the other girls soon confirmed it: Acme Boy had eyes only for me. Many months went by of awkward staring and smiling. When i was there with my mom, he'd check me out. When i was there with my friends, he'd check me out. Finally, one day, i was there with my uncle. As we were in the checkout line, Acme Boy was bagging groceries two lanes away. A few minutes later, he found a reason to move to the very next line. We continued staring and grinning until i was distracted by my uncle. Suddenly, Acme Boy was standing right next to me, and he slipped me a piece of paper, whispering, "Call me." On it was his name and number.
My friends and i were speechless with giggles. (What? We were fourteen. The stereotype is true: teenage girls giggle a lot.) My mom encouraged me to call, which i did the next day.
As it turned out, Ford was seventeen. He had just turned seventeen, and i was two months away from my fifteenth birthday, so it wasn't that significant a gap. As it further turned out, Ford had not realized that i was fourteen. He had thought i was twelve.
We continued chatting (and made out a few times) over the next few weeks, until Ford learned that i didn't want to have sex until i was married. I never heard from him again, though my sisters have since spotted him waiting tables at a sports bar. They say he has put on weight, and they are pretty sure he's gay.
"Victor", oddly enough, was an old friend of Fusco. I met him when my brother started taking Tae Kwon Do in town. Victor was in his class. He looked like a Hollister model, combining skater-boy edge with big blue eyes, dimples, and golden curls. I fell for him instantly and kept crushing on him for an entire year, even during the whole Ford fiasco. But he had a girlfriend.
Eventually, however, they broke up, he noticed me, and we started texting. I was nearly heartbroken when i learned that he was interested in a girl from my youth group, and tried to dissuade him by persuading him of her craziness (which was true, by the way. She was crazy.) The next day, he asked me out. Obviously i should have turned him down, but i was fifteen and he was really cute.
We dated for nearly three months before he broke it off because he was "going through some stuff" and needed to face it alone, like a "lone wolf". It wasn't until a few months after that that i learned he'd been cheating on me with the crazy girl from my youth group. Or maybe he was cheating on her with me. I never found out enough about the timeline to be sure, and i never wanted to. I did find out that he had been basically molesting her for their entire relationship. She was two years younger than we were (thirteen), and way too young and sheltered to be dating an older boy or to be making mature decisions about her sexuality. He'd pressured her into all kinds of things, and i am just selfish enough to still be glad that, for whatever reason, i had managed to escape that part of his character.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Ghosts of Boyfriends Past: Fusco
This year is the first year in my life that i will be in a relationship for Valentine's Day. In recognition of that fact, i will be spending the weeks leading up to the 14th telling stories of my past relationships. Get ready to mock.
"Fusco" was my very first boyfriend. He moved into my town when i had just turned thirteen. He was pretty much the most amazing boy i'd ever met. Of course, being homeschooled in a small town sort of limited the selection, but i was thirteen and didn't know that.
Fusco had blue eyes and was tall and cute. He was also gangly and awkward looking, but i was thirteen. He was brilliant in all the ways i wasn't (math, computers, science), he was musically gifted (his dad, a professional jazz musician, was the new pianist at our church), and he was edgy and cool (he went to public school and listened to music by bands that were not explicitly Christian). Best of all, we had never seen each other in diapers. We had not spent our whole lives within a ten-mile radius of one another. He was new and exciting.
I was the most awkward of my group of friends (we were all homeschooled, so that title was hotly contested). As the boring one, i had already resigned myself to a life of spinsterhood. I did not get nearly as much attention as my cute and peppy friends, and was sure that boys would never notice me.
But Fusco was different. And by that i mean that i had big boobs.
We dated for seven months. After about three, Fusco declared his intention to propose to me on my eighteenth birthday. He had it all planned out. We'd be on my back deck, and it would be snowing, and he would go down on one knee. I was not impressed, but pretended to be, because i liked having a boyfriend.
However, there were problems. I was starting to develop a crush on my grandmother's exchange student, and everyone (including my dad, who was usually oblivious to all human social interactions) was convinced that he had a crush on me. Plus, Fusco was constantly flirting with "Renee", one of my best friends. When i would talk to him about it, he would reassure me that they were just friends and that there was nothing going on. Then he would go to Renee and talk to her about our conversation and ask how he should reassure me further.
Finally, in October, i was starting to feel like i needed to break up with him. But his birthday was in October, so i postponed it. Then in November, his parents started talking about divorce. December was Christmas, but i couldn't wait any longer. I ended the relationship.
Fusco was crushed. He wanted badly to win me back, but i insisted that we take some time to work on our friendship. After a few weeks had passed, Fusco and i had a serious talk. He told me that he still loved me, and still wanted to marry me one day, but that he didn't think i was ready for a relationship. Also, he really liked Renee, and had decided to date her while he was waiting for me.
Obviously, i was swept off my feet, and when i turned eighteen Fusco proposed and we lived happily ever after.
Sike! Renee broke Fusco's heart, and then they both dated other people for a while. Fusco and i lost touch, Renee and i stopped speaking (high school drama), and we all moved on with our lives. Renee went to rehab, got out, got pregnant, got engaged, broke up with the guy, and named her son Kratos Wolf (yes, for real).
Nearly eight years after all of this began, Renee and Fusco are back together. Love is weird.
"Fusco" was my very first boyfriend. He moved into my town when i had just turned thirteen. He was pretty much the most amazing boy i'd ever met. Of course, being homeschooled in a small town sort of limited the selection, but i was thirteen and didn't know that.
Fusco had blue eyes and was tall and cute. He was also gangly and awkward looking, but i was thirteen. He was brilliant in all the ways i wasn't (math, computers, science), he was musically gifted (his dad, a professional jazz musician, was the new pianist at our church), and he was edgy and cool (he went to public school and listened to music by bands that were not explicitly Christian). Best of all, we had never seen each other in diapers. We had not spent our whole lives within a ten-mile radius of one another. He was new and exciting.
I was the most awkward of my group of friends (we were all homeschooled, so that title was hotly contested). As the boring one, i had already resigned myself to a life of spinsterhood. I did not get nearly as much attention as my cute and peppy friends, and was sure that boys would never notice me.
But Fusco was different. And by that i mean that i had big boobs.
 |
| Me, right around the time i started high school. |
We dated for seven months. After about three, Fusco declared his intention to propose to me on my eighteenth birthday. He had it all planned out. We'd be on my back deck, and it would be snowing, and he would go down on one knee. I was not impressed, but pretended to be, because i liked having a boyfriend.
However, there were problems. I was starting to develop a crush on my grandmother's exchange student, and everyone (including my dad, who was usually oblivious to all human social interactions) was convinced that he had a crush on me. Plus, Fusco was constantly flirting with "Renee", one of my best friends. When i would talk to him about it, he would reassure me that they were just friends and that there was nothing going on. Then he would go to Renee and talk to her about our conversation and ask how he should reassure me further.
Finally, in October, i was starting to feel like i needed to break up with him. But his birthday was in October, so i postponed it. Then in November, his parents started talking about divorce. December was Christmas, but i couldn't wait any longer. I ended the relationship.
Fusco was crushed. He wanted badly to win me back, but i insisted that we take some time to work on our friendship. After a few weeks had passed, Fusco and i had a serious talk. He told me that he still loved me, and still wanted to marry me one day, but that he didn't think i was ready for a relationship. Also, he really liked Renee, and had decided to date her while he was waiting for me.
Obviously, i was swept off my feet, and when i turned eighteen Fusco proposed and we lived happily ever after.
Sike! Renee broke Fusco's heart, and then they both dated other people for a while. Fusco and i lost touch, Renee and i stopped speaking (high school drama), and we all moved on with our lives. Renee went to rehab, got out, got pregnant, got engaged, broke up with the guy, and named her son Kratos Wolf (yes, for real).
Nearly eight years after all of this began, Renee and Fusco are back together. Love is weird.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Other, Not Less
Settling does not necessarily mean settling for less. Sometimes it means settling for something else.
Let's say that you had spaghetti for lunch. Now you are at dinner with some friends, and you are trying to decide between chicken Parmesan with ziti and chicken fettuccine alfredo. Assuming that both dishes cost the same and have the same calorie counts and nutritional value, which one do you pick? You really want the chicken parm, but you talk yourself into the alfredo simply because you had spaghetti for lunch and you feel like you should have something other than marinara sauce.
This is settling. Not because the chicken parm is objectively, inherently better than the alfredo, but because the parm is what you want.
I have a friend, "Morgan", who is really interested in this guy, "Cal". They dated in college, and after breaking up became best friends. For years, Cal has been in love with Morgan, and in the last few months she has started to fall for him as well. But the last time that they broke up, Morgan's mother attempted to comfort her by saying, "Well, at least now you won't have to worry about having ugly kids." Now Morgan worries about what people might say when they see them together. She worries about the judgement and derision of their friends. She thinks he's attractive, but she worries that others won't. And she worries that her mother will worry about having ugly grandchildren.
Morgan loves Cal, but she is trying to talk herself out of the relationship because she thinks it will be settling. The truth? Choosing anyone but Cal would be settling. Cal is a great guy, and she wants to be with him.
Sometimes we talk ourselves out of our choices because we think that they look like they could be better. We think that we should have a different job because the one we have now doesn't pay very well. Never mind that we are living our dreams. We think that we should be dating a different person because the one we are with is not very glamorous. Never mind that they are the love of our lives. We think that we should choose a different option on the menu because we've had marinara sauce three times this week already. Never mind that marinara is our favorite.
We settle all the time, but not always for less. More often than not, what we are settling for is simply something other than what we really want.
Let's say that you had spaghetti for lunch. Now you are at dinner with some friends, and you are trying to decide between chicken Parmesan with ziti and chicken fettuccine alfredo. Assuming that both dishes cost the same and have the same calorie counts and nutritional value, which one do you pick? You really want the chicken parm, but you talk yourself into the alfredo simply because you had spaghetti for lunch and you feel like you should have something other than marinara sauce.
This is settling. Not because the chicken parm is objectively, inherently better than the alfredo, but because the parm is what you want.
I have a friend, "Morgan", who is really interested in this guy, "Cal". They dated in college, and after breaking up became best friends. For years, Cal has been in love with Morgan, and in the last few months she has started to fall for him as well. But the last time that they broke up, Morgan's mother attempted to comfort her by saying, "Well, at least now you won't have to worry about having ugly kids." Now Morgan worries about what people might say when they see them together. She worries about the judgement and derision of their friends. She thinks he's attractive, but she worries that others won't. And she worries that her mother will worry about having ugly grandchildren.
Morgan loves Cal, but she is trying to talk herself out of the relationship because she thinks it will be settling. The truth? Choosing anyone but Cal would be settling. Cal is a great guy, and she wants to be with him.
Sometimes we talk ourselves out of our choices because we think that they look like they could be better. We think that we should have a different job because the one we have now doesn't pay very well. Never mind that we are living our dreams. We think that we should be dating a different person because the one we are with is not very glamorous. Never mind that they are the love of our lives. We think that we should choose a different option on the menu because we've had marinara sauce three times this week already. Never mind that marinara is our favorite.
We settle all the time, but not always for less. More often than not, what we are settling for is simply something other than what we really want.
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