iPod set to Elvis Costello & The Attractions's, Everyday I Write the Book
The spa weekend was, well, amazing. I used to tell Monkey Wrench that he
was the sweetest guy I’d ever met.
I think it’s still true. He
was just perfect.
Naturally I was suspect.
All weekend I was pondering the events of the week. I spoke with my friend Kera who is
dating, well, a handful and I started to realize something. We, like many women we know, are
multi-tasking, over-achieving, people pleasers. So when we have a guy in our lives we continue to maintain
our jobs, participate in various activities, see friends and manage life’s
little side projects. Only now we
have another task and that is being a girlfriend. But we’re not just girlfriends…oh no, we run in a long line
of world champion, Oscar award winning, Super Girlfriends. Not only do we keep up our own lives,
we now schedule things around our guy’s schedule, keep the foods he likes
stocked up in the fridge, remind him of the things he needed or wanted to do
that week, and manage to get 101 items stuffed into a mid-sized, fashionable
Coach tote so as to crash at his house later that night.
Problem: Boys
look at the world through “Me” tinted glasses. So where we see ourselves as the Donna Reed/Barbie/Sporty
Spice of perfection who has graciously taken these men into the center of our
fabulous universe, they see only that they are sitting in the center of our
universe. This is a big problem.
Big problem. Big. Huge. Why? Because they are now the Prince and we
are the servant. Bad, very bad,
definitely not good, not good at all.
In order to correct this problem we as women eventually hit
our breaking point and everything changes. I like to call this the “I just don’t give a #&*$
stage.” And all of a sudden the
world flips. So without even
thinking about it, the past week I asked him to get me this and buy me
that. I had him drive cross-town
to pick me up so I didn’t have to drag my bags around. Normally I would have met him where the
car was, but those bags are heavy and I just didn’t want to deal with it. We went on a vacation and it was
amazing. I just sat back and
watched myself asking him to go out in the cold morning to get the bag I left
in the car or to get me something from the bathroom counter because I was in the
shower. He wrote two emails for me
that I needed to write, but just didn’t want to, etc. Now, none of this is too much to ask. Well, I did feel bad about asking him
to get my bad, but only when he came back in smiling and kissed me on the cheek
when he handed it to me. It was
almost like, well, it was like how I enjoy doing things for him. Hmm. Could it be? Is
Monkey Wrench creeping another step towards Mr. P status? Oh there’s one more thing. I think he might be crazy. Nutz! I’m ugly. Not
kidding…UGLY. I’ve never broken
out so bad in my entire life. I
have some sort of strange rash on my neck and back and my legs must have been
allergic to something we hiked through.
So there I am looking like the sister of the Crypt Keeper, but he
doesn’t care…at all. Looking like
that following a long day rock climbing in red dirt I was a disgusting sweaty
mess and he acted like I just came out of a total makeover. Oy. One brownie point for Monkey
Wrench. (maybe he really is the sweetest thing. maybe, I'm suspect!)
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