The Long of Long-Term Relationship

At nearly two years with my Beloved, this is my longest relationship ever. Each passing birthday and holiday together, funeral and wedding is a road sign flying by that says I’m farther and farther away from any place I’ve been. I’m surprised by what turns up on the scenic route:

Gaining Weight
When I was single, I danced to top 40s at Mood Lounge on Monday night, salsa at Tongue and Groove on Wednesday, Latin rock at Loca Luna on Friday, and hip hop at Sutra on Saturday. It amounted to about 16 hours of stiletto-stomping, bass-pumping, aerobic writhing and flirting a week. Now, I’m lucky if I log 45 minutes on an elliptical before watching The Daily Show while drinking a beer (because that’s what he stocks) on his couch.

Creating Our Own Linguistics of Love
I’ve had inside jokes and pet names before, but we have, uh, progressed to being able to communicate in a complex system of grunts.

Learning to Love Unconditionally
In the bright beginnings of a relationship, you put everything else aside - like a vacation - to shower acts of kindness on a new love. Then, one or both of you learn that the other isn’t a heaven-sent angel at all, but a human being, a deeply flawed human being at that – which is so not what you signed up for. That’s when most couples break up. To be honest, sometimes I miss the perpetual beginning of a relationship, being seen as so perfect, so beautiful, so charmingly articulate. Now, I’m thick, and I grunt a lot.

My Beloved has witnessed my temper, my grief, my quirks, my myriad failures. We either had to break up or learn to love unconditionally, and obviously we haven’t broken up. (Well, we did once, but does 19 hours really count?) In fact, I often find myself saying “I love him too much to even let this silly thing annoy me.”

Planning the Future with a Capital F
I’ve daringly planned trips months ahead of time with boyfriends before. My Beloved, though, has made me start saving for retirement, and the other night, we decided on our “last song” for our eventual wedding reception.



But I have not reached the point when I am comfortable farting around him. That is so not what I signed up for. Many of you have been in relationships for much much longer. Tell me, what else am I in for?

Don’t Give Up...Yet

If you’ve flaked on your new year’s resolutions, don’t give up just yet. Growing into yourself is not a pass/fail class. Getting a B- is still better than an incomplete. I, for one, resolved to post this post around the Lunar New Year when I'd resolved to write this blog, but...meh...it's up now.

What I've found through an informal survey of my girlfriends is that many of our metrics for success/failure are sabotaging us. One girlfriend resolved to "practice more" each week on her guitar skills. After two weeks, she'd given up on it, because she hadn't been able to fit it into her schedule "more." But what she really wants is to dazzle at house parties on the fly, so she re-resolved to memorize 5 popular party songs by year's end. If by June, she hasn't finished learning two songs, she'll know it's time to hustle to make it by next year. And even if she only learns 2, as her friend, I'll still be dazzled by those songs at house parties. Reframe your goals, so you can see how far you fell short but also how far you came.

Rather than declare "I will lose 10 pounds" and fail again this year, another friend decided she would train for the Susan G. Komen 3-day Breast Cancer Walk in October, often a life-changing experience with women survivors from all walks of life. She finds that measuring how much farther you can walk and what a difference you can make is much more relevant to real life than measuring how many Kate Mosses could fit in your pants. Re-examine your motives, because the thought really does count. Is your heart in the right place? If vanity was a solid motivator, don't you think we'd all lose weight every month after a new fashion magazine issue came out?

Last year, I resolved to get two poems published. I only accomplished my goal halfway, but it was still one more publication than I'd ever gotten in my career. Best. Failure. Ever. Making new year's resolutions in March is quite counterculture, if you're the type that turns on a band once they get popular, and if health or a charity run are your goals, the gyms aren't crowded anymore. Don't give up!

Bad Day

Yesterday was an opus of failure. I embarrassed myself at a new client meeting. I was late to a lecture …at which I was the speaker. I stubbed my foot on my coffee table, so I can’t even wear a 2-inch heel today. I had a women’s doctor appointment, which makes me feel like I’m being treated for the failure of not being a man. (And, by the way, the doctor's scale is broken...I hope.) My car gave out in the middle of 5 o’clock traffic the day before my oil change appointment at the car shop. And, lacking transportation and fearing what the universe still had in store for me, I missed a girlfriend’s surprise birthday get-together. Why is it so easy for others to not say the wrong thing, gauge distances to hard objects, weigh proportionately to their height, never disappoint their friends, and show up to appointments and maintain their vehicles on time?

I took comfort from a good friend’s recent note (the moment she starts a blog, I’ll link it!):

“I worry about the effects of things I said or did years ago, long-forgotten by the other parties involved. I worry that a misspoken word, a misplaced comment, a misunderstood facial expression, or an inadvertent gesture will damage rapport, will destroy reputation, will exacerbate relationships. …Even my actions must, I believe, follow a strict regimen in order to keep up my appearance of being attentive, caring, interested, and otherwise desirable to have around. The reason I do this is because people are measured by their failures instead of their successes.”

When I read these words the first time, I was astonished at how I’d never heard anyone say these things before, but also heartened that I had proof someone besides me ever felt this way. Without her starting this conversation, I might have never had the epiphany I had this morning: everybody poops. Everybody.

You’re not alone, so get up and try again today.

Procrastinating cuz I'm a wimp

Avoiding my computer to avoid writing the first original Shut Up and Love blog post hasn’t really been doing me any favors. I dreamt last night that the blogosphere (personified by a lurid, glass-eyed repairman cum child molester in an anonymous white van) was chasing after me, driving through buildings.

I procrastinated even starting this blog, because I dreaded having my failure-of-a-blog searchable on THE Internet - forever. I’ve done these evasive maneuvers before. I avoided any potential partner for damn near a year after a brutal breakup, because I was afraid my next failure-of-a-relationship would run me over. Obviously, I didn’t acknowledge my gun-shyness then. I pouted, “Why isn’t there anyone in the state of Georgia who will sleep with me?” Really, past self? Really, no one in this entire great state will sleep with you?

I was like the INS interviewer from Hell. [Are you emotionally available? Yes? APPLICATION DENIED! (end scene)] I would only allow myself to be attracted to men from out-of-state or married men or men with serious immigration status problems, and there were plenty. Seriously, I might have never run out of excuses not to fall in love again. Ultimately, I was tricked by a strapping foreigner who I thought would surely return to Germany when he finished his PhD – what a convenient exit strategy and how much fun we could have until then! Today, we’ve been together for 15 months, and I went to Frankfurt to meet his parents just this Christmas. I am disgustingly in love, and I’m really sorry for all the freakouts I had when I realized too late that you actually wanted a healthy relationship.