It's supposed to be hard, what are we doing wrong or right?
Me and dudley-doright may be magic.
We pretty much don't fight. It's happened twice I can think of this go-round (I can't think of anything from the last one unless you count the breakup itself, which we can pretty much just characterize as Well That Was A Stupid Thing To Do). In each case about a concrete point of dissatisfaction that we solved inside of a few hours, and we spent the course of the arguments basically clinging to each other wishing for it to be over and being very creative and determined to find a way for that to happen. We get along with each other's outside partners, we are not wrestling with elephantine jealousy, we do not find each other unsatisfactory along major axes, we are good at communicating with each other and making sure we feel secure. We don't even seem to be making any obvious sacrifices in the outside relationships to prop this one up, unless some secondary partner resentments are being nursed extremely quietly.
I feel rather like everyone around me agrees that making scrambled eggs is extremely difficult. Some people decide that eating eggs isn't worth it at all and they're going to have cereal forever, some people think eggs are worthwhile but keep talking about how they burn themselves on the pan sometimes, how even experienced cooks get big chunks of shell in their food now and again, how adding cheese is most definitely for the advanced class only, and if your eggs not only taste kinda eggy but also yummy, this is invariably the result of Hard Work And Sacrifice And Compromise.
And I'm making a spinach and cheddar omelette for breakfast every morning wondering what they can possibly be trying that is getting them such spotty results. The worst breakfast-related metaphorical mishap I have suffered was when I ran out of eggs, and this supply problem has been fixed now.
I am half worried that we are not doing something right, but something wrong - that we are neglecting something huge, something obvious to everyone but us, something that will bite us in half in a year or five or twenty, something that we cannot think of however hard we wrack our brains but that would throw a wrench into our gears if we weren't ignoring it and will catch up sooner or later.
Or maybe we've lucked into a storybook compatibility - it's only the two of us, we don't seem to be especially magic with anyone else, so that could be.
Or maybe we're doing something exceedingly clever and we should bottle and sell it.
Help us figure it out?
We pretty much don't fight. It's happened twice I can think of this go-round (I can't think of anything from the last one unless you count the breakup itself, which we can pretty much just characterize as Well That Was A Stupid Thing To Do). In each case about a concrete point of dissatisfaction that we solved inside of a few hours, and we spent the course of the arguments basically clinging to each other wishing for it to be over and being very creative and determined to find a way for that to happen. We get along with each other's outside partners, we are not wrestling with elephantine jealousy, we do not find each other unsatisfactory along major axes, we are good at communicating with each other and making sure we feel secure. We don't even seem to be making any obvious sacrifices in the outside relationships to prop this one up, unless some secondary partner resentments are being nursed extremely quietly.
I feel rather like everyone around me agrees that making scrambled eggs is extremely difficult. Some people decide that eating eggs isn't worth it at all and they're going to have cereal forever, some people think eggs are worthwhile but keep talking about how they burn themselves on the pan sometimes, how even experienced cooks get big chunks of shell in their food now and again, how adding cheese is most definitely for the advanced class only, and if your eggs not only taste kinda eggy but also yummy, this is invariably the result of Hard Work And Sacrifice And Compromise.
And I'm making a spinach and cheddar omelette for breakfast every morning wondering what they can possibly be trying that is getting them such spotty results. The worst breakfast-related metaphorical mishap I have suffered was when I ran out of eggs, and this supply problem has been fixed now.
I am half worried that we are not doing something right, but something wrong - that we are neglecting something huge, something obvious to everyone but us, something that will bite us in half in a year or five or twenty, something that we cannot think of however hard we wrack our brains but that would throw a wrench into our gears if we weren't ignoring it and will catch up sooner or later.
Or maybe we've lucked into a storybook compatibility - it's only the two of us, we don't seem to be especially magic with anyone else, so that could be.
Or maybe we're doing something exceedingly clever and we should bottle and sell it.
Help us figure it out?