The same old crazy-go-round
Dessert didn't get home til around 4am on Friday night. Whatever man. At least he was smart enough to put himself to bed in the spare room. He hasn't had a night like that in awhile, so I guess he was allowed. I haven't gotten angry about his drinking in what seems like ages, however he has yet to hold up his end of the bargain by going and doing something (anything) and NOT having a drink or 7. We're getting there, slowly but surely.
But getting where? Is this really where I want to be getting? I was hanging out with my lovely lovely G the other day. I enjoy his wit and stimulating conversation and just being around someone who makes sense to me. He's beautiful and I love him dearly. Our time together is never long enough or frequent enough. I'm so glad we're friends. He made a comment about Maclean not being the brightest of men, but if you're looking for good husband material he's definitely a keeper. This is sooooooo true (well, he's actually surprisingly smart at times) and it makes me wonder if it's HIM I want, or a husband. Which is strange because I used to truly doubt that I'd ever marry, or even want to do so, and it's also strange because I am such a far cry from the stereotypical female who's itching to get married. I'm pretty independent, I don't want kids, I'm not exactly the most domestic goddess out there, and I lean rather towards the unconventional when it comes to settling down. So how the hell did I end up settling down so conventionally?!??! Is it going to make me happy? This domestic bliss, the house, the "real" job, the division of labour, the eventual babies...
My cousin's wife wrote a note on Crackbook yesterday about how they're moving to Montreal so he can go to school, and how she's working towards applying to med school in a couple of years. They're in their late 30's, have been married for like 15 years, don't have kids (they can't), and so they do what they want. The "retired" awhile ago and lived in Costa Rica for 3 years. They spent the past year in Victoria. They both have proper careers, and both are going back to school to either change or enhance said careers. They surf, golf, play music, hang out with friends, serve in their community, and do whatever they damn well please. That sounds absolutely brilliant to me.
And yet here I am.
Not that there's anything wrong with here, I know how good my Dessert is to me and for me. I've actually been rather content lately, in a "I've finally gotten settled into this routine" kind of way. But I still can't help wondering if I'm making a serious serious mistake.
I haven't delved into my underlying wants and desires in awhile, because it makes me an emotional headcase, but I think both of us getting drunk on Friday night tipped me off the edge a bit. I love having a partner. I love the daily ins and outs of life with him. I love the regular sex and always having a warm body to share the bed. I love sharing my life. But I don't love feeling like I'm losing myself and my wants and dreams, and I'm kind of afraid that that's exactly what's happening. Which can only be my own fault, but I'm not entirely sure how to rectify it.
Around and around and around we go. I know this is nothing new. Maybe I'm just never going to be satisfied. I know I perpetually have a case of "the grass is greener," and the only way I know how to get over that is to just force my brain to shut up and live life as if it's exactly the way I want it to be. The problem with that is that my brain only stays quiet for so long before the crazy merry-go-round starts up again.
It doesn't help that I've yet to go a day without thinking of my Beautiful Banga.
But getting where? Is this really where I want to be getting? I was hanging out with my lovely lovely G the other day. I enjoy his wit and stimulating conversation and just being around someone who makes sense to me. He's beautiful and I love him dearly. Our time together is never long enough or frequent enough. I'm so glad we're friends. He made a comment about Maclean not being the brightest of men, but if you're looking for good husband material he's definitely a keeper. This is sooooooo true (well, he's actually surprisingly smart at times) and it makes me wonder if it's HIM I want, or a husband. Which is strange because I used to truly doubt that I'd ever marry, or even want to do so, and it's also strange because I am such a far cry from the stereotypical female who's itching to get married. I'm pretty independent, I don't want kids, I'm not exactly the most domestic goddess out there, and I lean rather towards the unconventional when it comes to settling down. So how the hell did I end up settling down so conventionally?!??! Is it going to make me happy? This domestic bliss, the house, the "real" job, the division of labour, the eventual babies...
My cousin's wife wrote a note on Crackbook yesterday about how they're moving to Montreal so he can go to school, and how she's working towards applying to med school in a couple of years. They're in their late 30's, have been married for like 15 years, don't have kids (they can't), and so they do what they want. The "retired" awhile ago and lived in Costa Rica for 3 years. They spent the past year in Victoria. They both have proper careers, and both are going back to school to either change or enhance said careers. They surf, golf, play music, hang out with friends, serve in their community, and do whatever they damn well please. That sounds absolutely brilliant to me.
And yet here I am.
Not that there's anything wrong with here, I know how good my Dessert is to me and for me. I've actually been rather content lately, in a "I've finally gotten settled into this routine" kind of way. But I still can't help wondering if I'm making a serious serious mistake.
I haven't delved into my underlying wants and desires in awhile, because it makes me an emotional headcase, but I think both of us getting drunk on Friday night tipped me off the edge a bit. I love having a partner. I love the daily ins and outs of life with him. I love the regular sex and always having a warm body to share the bed. I love sharing my life. But I don't love feeling like I'm losing myself and my wants and dreams, and I'm kind of afraid that that's exactly what's happening. Which can only be my own fault, but I'm not entirely sure how to rectify it.
Around and around and around we go. I know this is nothing new. Maybe I'm just never going to be satisfied. I know I perpetually have a case of "the grass is greener," and the only way I know how to get over that is to just force my brain to shut up and live life as if it's exactly the way I want it to be. The problem with that is that my brain only stays quiet for so long before the crazy merry-go-round starts up again.
It doesn't help that I've yet to go a day without thinking of my Beautiful Banga.