OK, so its not official, it definitely isn't fully functional, and the only babe will probably be my room mate's cat. But, I signed a lease on my apartment and bought a bed and will have it delivered tomorrow. This may not seem like much to most of you but I moved out of my parents' house and into the apartment with my wife. I've never lived on my own. Not really.
I'm excited and shit scared (that's a word here in the south) all at the same time. I saw the wife again today. The house is litteraly covered (OK, not litteraly...) in self-helo marriage books, little notes about how we can work it out, notes she's taken, print-outs from the Internet, all kinds of stuff. Most of it is strategically placed where I'll see it.
This was both of our M.O.'s. Passive aggression, or passive passiveness, was how we co-existed for so long. Instead of making overt gestures we relied on signs, Morse code, and semaphore to tell each other what we were thinking, feeling, or wanted. It didn't work then and, frankly, it pains me even more to see it now. This is how I know nothing has changed. The fact is if she wanted to change it would take lots of time, patience, and be organic. Not from a book about men being "spaghetti" and women being fruitcakes or something.
I admire her for trying so hard, I really do. And it warms my heart (after all these years) that she values me enough, now, to work this hard. But honestly, how long can this go on? How long until the post-its disappear, before the books get put on a shelf, before the nice comments stop coming...?
Is it worth going through this all over again? Is it worth living in fear of going through this all over again? So far, the answer is no.
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