Joe and I: The Saga Continues

Over a year ago, we broke up.  We were in a very dark and unfortunate place.  We still liked and respected each other very much but that loving feeling was gone.  After both avoiding the topic for eons, we finally lied side by side in the dark one night, neither of us able to fall asleep, and started talking. 

Turns out we both felt the same way.  It was time to move on.  Things just weren't the same.  Though it was mutual and it felt like the right decision, it wasn't easy.  The next day, we hugged and we both cried.  Then I went home and cried for three days and listened to painfully melancholic songs on repeat because torturing myself just felt so good. 

After hanging up from a sobbing phone call with my mama, she called me back and told me something that I will never forget for all my days and I have a feeling it will serve me well: "It is normal for couples to fall in and out and then back in love.  Nobody tells you that, but it ebbs and flows.  Over a lifetime, you're going to feel differently at different times.  It doesn't mean you walk away or give up.  If you were married or you had kids, I'd be telling you to get your butt back there.  I just want you to know that."

To me, that doesn't mean that you stay in a bad relationship living for the brief respite of the infrequent "good" times.  It doesn't mean that you forgive things that are unforgivable.  It doesn't mean that it's okay not to work on a relationship, not to make effort because bad times are expected. 

It just means that you don't walk away just because that loving, mad about you feeling gives way for a bit to a feeling of if I see your face one more time today I'm going to punch myself in the eye.  What I learned is that when that happens, you have to tell the other person.  You have to talk about it.  You have to trust that they will understand, that sometimes they feel that way too.  That it's nothing personal.  You love each other.  But today, you are just totally pissing me off and perhaps it would be best if you went to another room and did your best not to breathe loudly. 

I went a long time miserable because I was afraid to just say what I was feeling because I did not want to hurt his feelings.  That made everything worse.  It made me resent him.  It made him resent me.  Neither of us could do anything right because everything was loaded.  Everything meant something we didn't intend because we didn't talk about it.  That is no way to operate.  So we broke up.  Because we didn't know what else to do.

We didn't talk for three months.  Then we slowly started letting each other back in our lives.  You know, just as friends.  When I went to New York to visit family and friends, I stayed with them.  Then little by little, we started getting comfortable again.  Talking every day.  Seeing each other regularly.  By October of last year, he asked to make it official again.  I said no.  I liked it like this.  No one was obligated because we weren't "together."  When we spoke or saw each other it was because we really wanted to, nothing was forced.  I was still afraid of things getting to that bad place again.  I thought I could keep relationship problems away if I wasn't technically in a relationship.  Oh yes, it was as brilliant as it sounds.  I explained this concept and then asked, "Is that okay?"  He said he understood. 

That has been the way of things now for 8 months.  Together but not together.  My boyfriend but not my boyfriend.  And the whole time?  Totally and completely happy.  In love again.  Just like my mom predicted.  When problems come up or feelings get hurt or issues arise, we address them directly.  We listen.  We ask questions.  We troubleshoot.  We're kinder.  We're more likely to crack each other up than get our feelings hurt.  All the good stuff that was always there, that kept us together so long in the first place, is still there, only now it's even better.  We just needed to learn the lessons that could take us to this place.  When we started dating, I was 17 and he was two months away from 21.  Babies.  Now, I'm 26 and he's two months away from 30.  I feel like we broke up with our immature baby selves, took some time, and regrouped as adults. 

But I've still been nervous to make it "official."  Things are so good I didn't want to rock the boat.  Because titles totally ruin everything.  That makes perfect sense.

Then I started hearing the whispers.  The signs that are always there if you just look for them.  The weird little messages that come close together just when you're ready to seriously consider something.

First, there was reading this: "You'll know when you've found a healthy relationship because it won't confuse you."  Yes.  That I have found to be true.  There is no confusion here. 

Then, a timely question posted on an anonymous friend's blog to which I found I had an answer based on what I had just realized I already knew.

After that, a conversation with Joe in which we discussed the question he had asked me back in October and my response.  He had felt "shot down" he said, finally confessing his real feelings about my whole together but not together theory. 

And finally, coming across this and seeing that a love like that is possible.  "There is nothing to be nervous about when you are walking toward the person you love with your whole heart."

All of that, the whole story, leading to another conversation, this time on the couch, again lying side by side:

"Joey, can I be your girlfriend again?"

He smiled. 

"Sure."

Mischief

I'm pretty much an adult but I'm still not enough of an adult to resist messing with someone's Facebook page when they fail to log out after using my computer. 

Joe Randazzo likes ball sacs, y'all.  Look it up.  It's cause they're so soft.  As he explained for everyone.  On Facebook.

I was told through clenched teeth after the fact that you can't delete your own comments from your wall.  That's a stupid rule.  What if some immature person gets on because you didn't log out and posts crazy things about ball sacs being oh so soft?  This is why I'm not on Facebook.  It's dangerous.

Vindication

So once upon a time, I spent money buying clothes for children I do not yet have and Joe, in response, proclaimed this to be crazy.  I've been keeping the little treasures in a shopping bag on the top shelf of my closet.  Joe came down this past weekend to help me move.  One of the reasons I keep him around is to reach stuff up high and hand it to me. 

Joe:  Here's a bag of pictures.

me:  I need to sort those and put them in frames and albums.

Joe:  Here's blankets.

me:  Got 'em.

Joe:  Purses.

me:  Be gentle.

Joe:  Here's our baby's clothes.

me:  [silence]

Long pause

me:  You realize what you just said?

Joe:  I'd prefer not to acknowledge it.

As I have always known, he talks a big game but inside he's all rainbows, butterflies, tears and feathers.  Baby lover.

Maybe The Calculator Did Make a Difference

me:  You can't make fun of my math anymore because guess who got an A in tax law?

Joe:  Didn't you get to bring a calculator to the exam?

me:  That's not the point.  An A.  In tax law.  It's a hard class.

Joe:  Probably easier with the calculator though.

me:  I'm just sayin' your being able to make fun of my math skills are over.  A.  Tax law.  Suck it.

The next day

me: What time did you leave?

Joe: Around 2:30.

me:  So it's 4:15 now.  You should be here in, what?  30 minutes?

Joe:  Um, no.  What were you saying about not making fun of your math anymore?

me:  What?  It takes 2 hours and 45 minutes to get here.  You left at 2:30, it's 4:15 now.

Joe:  Uh huh.  Maybe try that math again.

[pause]

me:  45 minutes?

Joe: [sighs]

me:  An hour!  An hour!  You'll be here in an hour.

Joe:  That's better.

me:  I got an A in tax law.

Joe:  I know, hon, I know.

Chocomize

Oh. My. Heaven. The possibilities.  I will probably spend the rest of the week on this.

Dear Almost Every Coffee Shop In the World That Serves Bagels,

I realize there are much larger problems in the world, however, I would be willing to pay up to $0.25 extra if you would just put the cream cheese on the bagel for me.  I mean, really, if I wanted to smear it on myself, I would just make it at home.  It makes no sense.  If one orders a bagel buttered, you butter it for them.  But I order cream cheese and I have to do it myself?  That's cream cheese discrimination. 

I like when the bagel is toasty hot and the cream cheese kind of melts into the toasty goodness and then you pile more solid cream cheese on top.  By the time I get the bagel to my destination, it is merely warm, no longer toasty hot, and the cream cheese doesn't melt.  Why must you deprive me of one of life's great pleasures?  Not to mention the annoyance of getting cream cheese residue all over my fingers in my amateur attempts to spread cold, hard cream cheese with a weak plastic butter knife not up for the task.  It makes no sense, I tell you.

Additionally, if you put it on for me then I have no need to feel guilt or be restrained about the amount of my cream cheese usage.  I can just be all "Whoa, that's a lot of cream cheese.  Oh, well, what can you do?" 

Kind of like when Starbucks puts whipped cream on my frappucino even when I ask them not to.  "Ah, well, obviously it's fated that I have whipped cream today.  I told them not to and they did it anyway.  This is clearly beyond my control and meant to be."

In closing, it's rare that I allow myself to indulge in these calorie-filled and delicious treats, so when I do, I expect it to live up to expectations.  You have an opportunity here to make the world a better place.  Do not disappoint me.

Thank you for your time.

Lovingly,
Christina

To Dixie and Rue

I was born in the South.  I grew up in the South.  My family is from the South.  I grew up knowing and loving strong Southern women.  Women who were sweet as iced tea and peach cobbler but who had a backbone.  Who would give you the shirt off their back but wouldn't let you take it.  So as a child of the 80s, I related and looked up to ladies like Julia Sugarbaker and Blanche Devereaux.  They showed me what Southern ladies are - kind, bold, funny, confident and tough.  Sassy, brassy and classy. 



Thank you for your example.

And don't even get me started on Steel Magnolias.

Countdown

I'm moving in eleven days and I could not be more excited.  It's time for this girl to be on her own again.  No more roommates for me unless they be of the male and committed variety. 

I've adored every roommate I've ever had but there is something to be said for drinking milk right out of the carton, knowing we're out of clean spoons before you pour a bowl of cereal, watching TV until all hours of the night, and having complete control of the thermostat - a way of life I got way too used to in the two years after undergrad and pre-law school. 

I'm excited to make a little home for myself again.  Invest in some (pre-owned/cheap) furniture and home decor simply because I love it.  Be able to walk into my own space and take a deep breath. 

Eleven more days.