Editorial caveat: What follows about me comes with zero judgement regarding the choices of others. I am for everyone’s love affair, no matter the flavour they need to remain in it happily. Meaning, I do not wish to hear your opinion that I am wrong to decide what is right for me. But I’d love to know What is right for you.
“Distance makes the heart grow fonder.”
“Out of sight, out of mind.”
In which do you believe? Or is it a little bit of both?
Here’s the thing. The very idea of domesticity gives me hives. But I love coupling. But I need a separate bathroom. But I love being a part of a team. But I need space to write and think and colour, and reflect. To roller skate and dance. But I really love a strong guiding hand on my lower back, and an even stronger one around my waist. But I suddenly have trouble breathing when I consider the thought of relationship ennui.
Certainly, I am not in this alone. D recently stated that her ideal (monogamous) partner would come into town once every three weeks, and then leave again.
Is it really so much to ask that one of the top goals of a monogamous and committed relationship at this age be one where we prioritize the Not Ennui Of It All? Because if I hear the word “nesting” one more time, I might throw my self from a balcony. (Unless you are nesting because you are presently growing a full other human in your tummy.)
Please don’t misunderstand me. I absolutely love the idea of my man having a bad day and calling to tell me that he’s going to drop in on his way home (which is not where I am, because I am in my own home, see…) so that I might help him remove his bad day from his body and mind. And vice versa. I really love this.
But then I need space. It’s nothing personal, and it’s not about harming him or disliking him, but rather it is about ensuring that I stay firmly placed in who I am, while equally giving us both the opportunity to miss one another.
Because I have discovered that for me, very personally, I need to miss a man in order for me to value him. The level of missing varies from one to another, as does the time itself. Some, I might miss every three days, others every two weeks. It really does depend on our chemistry when together.
Here’s why – I believe that relationships are a form of theater.
You think this is naive? Aces. We just won’t date.
Again, for me, the more this theater is maintained, the sexier the relationship. Within this architecture then, is the pillar that we remain excited to see one another. Meaning, my time with my man isn’t just another evening to be taken for granted. (This latter, a thing which is a very natural part of the human condition, because we are creatures of habit. Also, it is how the traditional form of relationship architecture is taught to us, and when we consider the rate of divorce, that it remains on-going is absolutely bonkers to me.)
What do I mean by ‘theater’? I mean the getting dressed up to be out for dinner, and the getting dressed up to stay home for a bite. It is the separation of Church and State, and here I mean Bedroom and Washroom. It is the constant fixing of our hearts and bodies, spiritual, and emotional well-being so that when we see our lover, we are presenting the best version of ourselves possible in that particular moment.
It is not sitting on the couch with Cheeto dust on your shirt while I stare at you in fascination and with an urge to cry, while my lipstick is perfectly lined. I do not want you to see me until I am ready for you to lay eyes on me, because it will be a very concerted effort to seduce you every time.
I remember reading an article about how important it is, for the health of a relationship, to fart in front of your partner. That it displays a level of comfort necessary for some God-knows-what reality. This is necessary for some; and I trust that people know themselves enough to know what they need to remain in a state of grace with their lovers.
This is never who I will be, and please I do not want my man to be this kind of a human. Get up and walk your ass to the washroom, please and thank you. Maybe even the corridor or the balcony. Maybe even go home. I mean, you catch my drift – which is that I don’t want to catch his.
Truth is, I have only primarily had really out of the ordinary love affairs. I have literally never had ‘normal’. So very seriously, take this piece for absolutely what it is and only is – a mini dissertation on only myself.
I am not in search of another friend, but rather a man into whom I might fit, in the most optimal way for me to stay involved and interested and excited. (Also, this is my article. Write your own if you disagree.)
Side note: I must here acknowledge that having children means that your time and resources are no longer yours alone. As a woman without children, who has come to accept that ‘parenting’ will come into my life in a myriad of ways not (literally) borne from my uterus, I am able to set a different standard for relationships. And for this, I am extremely grateful. Because one of the most difficult personal realities for me to accept was that I do not wish to be in a run-of-the-mill usual domestic situation. (Most difficult, because it goes against the grain of my culture, but not necessarily my deen.) Ideally, I wouldn’t even share a home with a man, but rather have two separate homes with a door in-between. Should we end up spending every night together, then fine. But in the event that we do not require this, then options are present and available. Think Jack Nicholson, and Anjelica Huston, as well as Tim Burton, and Helena Bonham Carter.
I am asking you to slide into my DMs and share what you’re doing to keep your relationship firmly away from ennui, please and thank you.
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