“A woman in love can’t be reasonable, or she probably wouldn’t be in love.”
I never thought love made you stupid. Oh boy…read on.
So…sometimes I can overreact just a little (Shut up! Stop sniggering at me! This means you!) but in my defense it usually takes quite a combination of things to tip me over the edge. Yesterday, after a long staff meeting, no food, and a lunch break spent getting told that my computer was worth more as scrap metal than getting fixed, my dad iced the irritation cake by sending me a book the subject of which is “marital relations: why it’s good to have them, and don’t feel bad because God approves” without any warning. Wow…really not your business, Dad, but thanks for the…support? Goodwill? What is this exactly?!
I worked myself into a completely pointless rage, sent of a snappish email to my father which I instantly felt bad about (but it took Guilt and his hired guns Remorse and Self-Loathing another six hours to find me, work me over, and force me into apologizing), gnawed all my fabulous long nails off, and was moody the rest of the day. Which only gave me a tension headache, so I don’t know why I did it.
I wasn’t nearly this much of a girl before I started dating J. Really. I promise. Stop sniggering at me! Anyway, maybe love has a weird effect on me, it doesn’t make me stupid so much as irritable; a fact that J. finds hilarious. Which irritates me more. Vicious cycle.
“Intimacy is a four syllable word for, ‘Here’s my heart and soul, please grind them into hamburger, and enjoy.'”
-Meredith, Grey’s Anatomy
Some people are naturally good at relationships: they buy presents constantly, have cutesy nicknames for each other, and count and celebrate every single week/month/whatever of their duality. They wander around in a fond fog until, 9 times out of 10, it crashes spectacularly around them. Then they take some time, recover, and bounce right on to the next lover with varying degrees of trepidation but probably with that butterfly-in-stomach feeling still intact.
I am not one of these people. I suck at relationships. My communications skills are nil and I have an overdeveloped Fight or Flight response. In fact I tended to avoid emotional commitment for most of my life and never dated anyone I actually liked enough to upset my equilibrium. Fairy puts it’s kindly by saying I’m “emotionally stunted.”
Unfortunately relationships don’t get easier with practice (sometimes I think I’m getting worse even after 10 months of practice with J.) and you can’t buy into all the mumbo-jumbo that magazines, prime-time television, and well-intentioned friends try to soothe you with: we’re all clueless. Just as soon as you figure out the rules, the ground shifts under your feet. Luckily I’ve gotten to the point where this sort of freefalling doesn’t scare me as much, mostly I’m left muttering under my breath, “Good grief, what now?” while I plummet. My problem when this occurs isn’t so much that I’m falling, but that I can’t get my bearings until I hit the ground again, at which point I try to reorient while recovering from the impact.
I can’t be alone here; I know my 203 VIPS at least have a few good stories on the romantic end, Venice is a newlywed learning to deal, and Tink just had a baby and is heading towards being a SAHM. My London girls AbFab, Red, and Marie are all going through travel, romantic, and medical drama. Anyone else feel like they’re constantly playing catchup with life?!
For my high school graduation/18th birthday/going to college present, my dad bought me a laptop. My dad, wonderful man that he is, is always on the lookout for a good deal which is not necessarily a bad thing, but he often forgets his own favorite favorite saying, “You get what you pay for.”
My laptop itself was new but also an already outdated model that was too big and, as it later turned out, one of a line famous for a glitch that caused overheating. Somehow (by hanging the side off the edges of desks, keeping my window open in winter so cold air could blow on it, and buying multiple power cords when one after another was melted through) I managed to make it last for four years without crashes or data loss. However it was too much to hope that it could limp on any longer. I got all my music, pictures, data, and important work off of it and retired the poor thing to my closet.
My parents just got a new computer and decided to send me the old one, also a dinosaur but still very appreciated for its lack of battery incinerating habits. Sadly a couple of days ago, without warning, it simply turned itself off for no readily apparent reason and has since refused to turn back on.
At the time my reaction was a near heart attack and much, “My music! My photos! My writings! Angst, angst, angst! Why me?” You know, the usual wailing and gnashing of teeth routine. I’ve since accepted it and made appointments to have it looked at and begun silent prayers to the computer gods to be merciful.
PS – did you know there’s a patron saint of computers, program, users and the Internet? Found him when Googling “computer problems.” For some reason they picked a guy who died in the 7th century AD; I for one fail to see the connection.