All posts tagged: Relationships

We look basically like this

The Case of the Broken Sled (or, a Surprise in My Bed)

I wrote but never published the following post as my last relationship was falling apart last winter. A few weeks ago, we got into a fight about going sledding.  (I wanted to go; he refused.) It wasn’t actually a fight per se—we’ve never had a real fight—but it made me realize, for better or worse, that he is who he is and I am who I am and that there are going to be times when who he isn’t able (or willing) to fulfill my every need. Of course, it wasn’t just a question of playing in the snow vs. not playing in the snow.  It was, at least in my mind, a question of his approach to life vs. mine.  (Mind you, this was the very same conundrum that nearly caused us to call it quits this past summer.) A few years ago, I would have simply thrown in the towel.  But I’ve changed a lot in the two years.  Instead of nagging him to come sledding with me (okay, instead of only nagging …

TopSecret

Writing Wednesday: How to Date a Blogger

If you write a blog about dating, should you tell the man you’re dating? I get this question a lot actually (especially after last Monday’s post), and my answer is always the same: YES! During my Manthropology days, I let all prospective suitors know up front, from the get go. I felt it was important, especially because in those days a lot of different men took me out to dinner and if a man takes you out to dinner, the least you can do is let him know said dinner might show up on the internet in the morning. (How’s that for a little nugget of wisdom in this here digital age?) Now though, the blog is different. And now I’m not just dating any Tom, Dick or Harry. Now I know what I want; now I want to build a life with someone. And so the blog comes up again. I told PIC on our first date. I told him I write a blog, I told him the name of it and I told …

picnic

On My Team

I’ve spent the better part of my life wondering if love is real or not. On good days, I think it’s a feeling, an emotion, an action, perhaps even a scientifically verifiable state of being if I listen to enough NPR. But on bad days, I think it’s just something we poetic types go on about, something that the rest of the world buys into, something we spend our entire lives trying to achieve and we dress it up with engagement rings and wedding gowns to prove to everyone else that we’ve found it. Then I met PIC. (You had to know I was going to say that, right?) Each time I’ve had a new boyfriend, I find myself thinking, “This! This is what love feels like!” But this time it’s different. It was a weeknight when I invited PIC over to my house for dinner for the first time. I know how to make approximately four proper dinners, and I’d chosen the most impressive (Thai peanut satay chicken) but as I got the preparations …

toe

The De-Stringing

So where were we? Right. The street corner, Starbucks in hand, him asking to see me again and me saying yes. The only problem is that this is late November, which means we’re coming up on what I like to refer to as my Ultimate B*tch Period, courtesy of The Lady Hoofers and our annual holiday concert. As most of you know, I’ve spent the past three years directing a small dance company. Because we’re a small dance company (7 First Company dancers, 4 Apprentices and no real “staff” to speak of aside from our lone—albeit fabulous— intern), “directing” really means producing shows, running meetings, designing costumes, contracting musicians, balancing the budget, managing payroll, choreographing repertoire, recruiting volunteers and carting everything to and fro the various theaters in which we perform and—oh yeah—dancing. Making matters worse, I often get really brilliant ideas in the midst of it all. Ideas like, “I know! To save the company money I will MAKE all of the costumes we need for the show’s new opening number” or “Wouldn’t this …

commu

How to Love when you Hate to Fight

Right. So yesterday’s post? Feel, Felt, Found? I’m sure you felt like I was just putting you off, dragging things out for the sake of a good story, but really I picked it for a reason. It shows, you see, how I handle conflict (calmly, quietly, slowly and yes, wrapped up in a pyschobabble bubble of corporate nonsense-speak and yoga-infused rhetoric because really, conflict terrifies me and I can’t deal with it any other way). It also shows how the majority of the population deals with conflict, how stubborn, strong willed people like my mother deal with conflict. And luckily this was pointed out to me before I made a big mistake. (I will, once again, get to that later but suffice it to say, the past 24 hours have been rather dramatic; I almost snuffed out the story of the flowers before it began.) So now I’m curious, and as I find myself navigating previously uncharted territories, I need help. You have the people like me and my father, who keep our tempers in …

This is either where they filmed Adelle's "Rolling in the Deep" or its my living room.  I'll let you decide.

Of Magnets and Parmesan

This time around was easy: I mailed the book I’d borrowed from The European back to his house, pushed the magnets he’d given me to the side of the fridge and called a plumber. Calling a plumber isn’t part of my usual break up procedure, mind you, but now that I’m a homeowner, I’ve been forced to make a few adjustments to the customary wailing and gnashing of teeth. I jest. There was no wailing this time. No gnashing of teeth. There were a few tears, a few curses mumbled under my breath, but the latter were primarily related to the fact that I’d left an entire jar of shredded Parmesan cheese in his fridge and wanted it for my pasta. I will also miss his toothbrush. And his bed. And his shower. And the fact that his house didn’t have plaster falling from the ceiling. And his cat. And him, of course. But he never wanted to connect on Facebook, never left toiletries at my house, never even stayed the night or learned how …

lobster

My (Love) Life: Baggage Claim and Layovers

The problem with dating a man who is gluten free (and who has promised to come over one Friday to help you hand out Halloween candy so that new your neighbors don’t think you’re a lesbian) is that you end up with a freezer full of gluten free cookie dough. Then, when the relationship ends as it was—if you are truly honest with yourself—always going to end, you feel compelled to eat said cookie dough, even though you’ve just come back from El Salvador and have sworn off eating all together because you’ve spent a week tossing back steaks, fillet mignons and lobsters stuffed with shrimp. Eventually you put the cookie dough away and decide that a West Wing marathon will do the trick (just as House of Cards did the trick the last time). But as you sit there in your new house, in your new office, watching Netflix on your computer because you don’t have a proper living room yet, it’s easy to feel just a little bit sorry for yourself. After all, …

waitingatairport

Of Course, Of Course

The European has gone back to Europe. Not for good, but for a few weeks, and when you’ve got plaster ceilings falling down around you and your entire life in boxes, a few weeks seems like a very long time. Still, it’s just as well. Now I’ll have no excuse not to work on my house and with any luck, by the time he returns to the US, it will look like an actual home (as opposed to a low-budget, post-apocalyptic film set). We’ve been seeing each other for almost three months now. To be honest, I can’t quite believe it. It’s lovely and very low-stress but we met on the internet. On Plenty of Fish of all places. We were both very recently very single at the time. When we took a road trip out to tour Frank Lloyd Wright’s Falling Water back in August, we spent almost the entire drive home talking about our exes. Who does that? Plus he’s eleven years older than me and likes cats. And both of our respective …