Last night I was looking through a lot of online photo galleries with images from yesterday's big marriage equality day in DC. I'm not ashamed to admit I was fighting back tears...and I actually let a couple escape my tear ducts.
What love looks like:
I've got a lump in my throat as I type this.
If anyone is in the mood for some protesting, I encourage you to check out this website, which helped coordinate these events all over the country. For the DC peeps, our event is tonight in Dupont Circle.
It feels like I'm reliving the passage of Prop 8 all over again.
On Saturday, Jesse and I drove up to a very forest-y area of Pennsylvania for a wedding (one of Jesse's friends, of course). On 95 in Pennsylvania, I saw this ad:
On Friday, the Iowa State Supreme Court ruled unanimously that the state's DOMA (Defense of Marriage Act) is unconstitutional. After the seriously big downer that was Prop 8, this was the most awesome news in...well...since the California State Supreme Court upheld a law allowing same-sex marriage.
I actually read the decision Saturday morning. It's 69 pages. Hey, Nicky woke me up at 7 a.m. and Jesse doesn't usually wake up until 11 so I had plenty of time to kill. Allow me to summarize the key awesome points for you...
So did you guys hear about the couple that got married in a Taco Bell because they like spending time there?
No? Where have you been?
Kidding.
Apparently, Caragh Brooks, 21, and Paul Brooks, 30 (no relation, I hope), got married in a Taco Bell in Normal, Illinois (I swear, this stuff just writes itself). They met online and, after talking for 9 months, Caragh moved to the U.S. to be with Paul.
Paul had this to say about their relationship: "We have the same brain, just in two bodies. We think alike in virtually every manner. We have the same interests, viewpoints." About the choice of wedding venue, Paul said, "It's appropriate. It's an offbeat relationship."
I don't know if I'm hormonal or what, but that's actually kinda sweet. Considering the crazy-ass wedding industrial complex, I like the idea of a stripped down ceremony where two people, surrounded by family and friends, commit to each other in their favorite place. If that favorite place happens to be Taco Bell, well, then so be it.
Moreover, the couple's wedding didn't break the bank. The total cost was $200 and I'm assuming the food for the reception was straight off the Value Menu. Seeing as that the economy is what it is, a $200 wedding at Taco Bell just might be a trend-starter.
Not that I will be continuing that trend (when the time comes). Taco Bell and my stomach don't exactly get along if you know what I mean.
I wonder if this guy was the officiant...
I'm not going to lie. I've got proposals on the brain...well, that is whenever I'm not freaking out about all the work I have to get done before I go on vacay (honestly, that means I don't have much time to be daydreaming about proposals).
So when I read this article from The Knot about proposals (through another blog I read. I swear I've never been to theknot.com), I had to check it out. Just out of curiosity, of course. And for blogging research purposes.
I swear.
Anyhoo, according to The Knot, these are the 7 tell-tale signs your boo is going to propose.
1. He's Growing out of His Bachelor Ways
Hmmm...I don't remember Jesse ever being a hanging-out-with-the-boys-neglecting-my-girls'-needs kind of guy. In fact, I think he's found a perfect balance between spending time with me and hanging out with friends. I feel more than comfortable with his hanging out with the boys, as long as some skanky chick doesn't come over and flirt with him (but that has nothing to do with his friends). So...umm...FAIL.
2. He's Redecorating
According to The Knot, this means that your man has gotten rid of those "college posters and Star Wars memorabilia." The only things Jesse is crazy about collecting is sports-related memorabilia and seeing as that I love sports too, I certainly don't want him to toss those out. Also, we decorated the condo together. Again, FAIL.
3. He's Curbing Big Purchases
The Knot asks, Has your boyfriend gone from big spender to scrooge? Umm...no. Jesse's always been responsible with his finances so he's never been a big spender. FAIL.
4. He's Not Complaining About Weddings
This is a direct quote: While at a wedding together, it's more than just the usual eagerness for an open bar. He's not cracking jokes during the vow exchange — he's commenting on the couple's first-dance song choice and the meal selection. Take it as a sign that he's paying attention to all things wedding-related because matrimony is on his mind.
Ummm...the eagerness for an open bar at a wedding never goes away. And who jokes about the vows? FAIL.
5. He's Taken an Interest in Your Jewelry
Jesse has given me all of my major jewelry acquisitions from the last four years. He already knows what I like (it starts with a T and ends in a Y and comes in a pretty blue box). FAIL.
6. He Wants to Meet the Parents
Been there, done that within a year of dating. FAIL.
7. He's Acting out of Character
If anything, he has gotten cuddlier in the last couple of weeks but then again my stress level has increased in the past couple of weeks so I think the increased cuddling is due to my increase in stress (cuddling and other things related to cuddling that sometimes follow the cuddling are excellent stress relievers). So FAIL.
Ok, so The Knot has failed, big time. Either that or I'm just weird, which is highly likely.
But then again, would I trust a website to predict whether my boyfriend is going to propose?
*******
I may or may not have taken a trip to Tiffany with Jesse on Saturday. Rings may or may not have been perused. I cannot confirm nor deny at this time whether rings were tried on.
*******
Yes, the blog post title is sarcastic.
My boyfriend/KittyDaddy was at the doctor's recently and the doctor suspected something wrong might be going on with his heart so he was referred to a cardiologist. After several tests, the cardiologist deemed that Jesse was a-ok.
However, on the day of his lastest test, I was stressing out. That test was the most vigorous and the most telling. Being the pessimist that I am, I suspected Jesse might be headed for a pre-mature death and I was terrified. I love him so much and I don't know what I would do without him and I haven't given much thought to how I would function should something awful happen. I can't NOT have him in my life.
I've been feeling so happy and satisfied with my life lately that I'm expecting my world to come crashing down any second Why enjoy the happiness when there is impending doom?
The good stuff can't really last, can it? I'm sure my mom had no idea that her husband/my dad would end up getting cancer and dying before my third birthday. From what I know of that time (before the big C), everything was perfect in my mom's life--she had a husband she adored who was a loving father to two (with me on the way) smart kids with a roof over her head and food on the table. And then one day, my father, who had never smoked a day in his life, suddenly gets lung cancer and passes away within three years of his diagnosis, leaving my mom as a widow and a single mom to three kids.
I get a lump in my throat just typing this.
The thing is, three years prior to my dad's passing, my mom had no idea that her perfect life would suddenly take a turn for the worst possible scenario. Nearly 30 years later, my mom has moved on but she still has her moments. To this day, I know she still wonders what could've been of her life had my father hadn't passed (heck, I wonder that too).
So I've been thinking a lot about my dad lately as Jesse goes through these tests (he's ok, so far). In the interim, we've decided to start living healthier lives by eating better, snacking less, and exercising more. I hope to have a long, happy life with him but you can never be sure about these things.
As Jesse and I continue to talk about marriage and spending the rest of our lives together, I can't help but wonder when will the good times stop? I can't possibly be this lucky to have the perfect boyfriend, great friends, a loving family, the most satisfying job, and two perfect kitties (actually, Gracie's not perfect, now that I think about it).
I find myself so absolutely afraid of losing it all that I can't always enjoy how happy it makes me now.
For some reason unknown to even me, I haven't really spoken about the elections with my family. Despite being some seriously traditional, Church-going, Feast-Day-observing, Abortion-hating Catholics, my family tends to vote Dem. My sister is a long-time educator in various capacities over the years in Orange County public schools and she is a fierce opponent of vouchers and No Child Left Behind. My mom is all about helping the less fortunate and I can't remember the last time the Republicans did anything to benefit the poor. And well, my brother is my brother. I couldn't tell you what or who he would vote for because we NEVER talk about politics (to put it into perspective, we can't really talk about college football either since he's a diehard Notre Lame fan).
On election day, my mom called me while at work. "Did you vote today?" she asked me. I replied, "Yes, of course." With hesitiation she asked, "Who did you vote for?" I responded indignantly, "MOM! I can't believe you asked me that! Yes, I voted for Obama!" Not understanding where my attitude came from (yes, I was insulted that my mom, even for a second, assumed I had voted for a Republican for the first time in my life), my mom answered, "Well, I didn't know. You haven't talked to me about it and I thought since you work in DC that maybe you liked Bush." OH. MY. GOD. Not only did my mom think I was backing McCain, she presumed that I supported Bush's presidency! Does she not know who I am?
After calming down, I realized that, despite speaking to my mom nearly every day, I kinda left out the part of my life the past few months where I volunteered for the Obama campaign all those times, especially on Latino night so I could convince my fellow brown peeps to support Obama. I simply didn't tell her because I really didn't think she'd understand what an Obama presidency meant to me.
Later that day, while waiting for the first results to come in, I spoke to my sister about the elections for the first time. She was on her way to drop off her ballot in California. I reminded her to vote for Obama, which was a given. But then I realized that there was one big political question that was not a given with my sister--Prop 8 (which would ban same sex marriage). So I asked her, "You're voting No on Prop 8, right?" Without skipping a beat, "Liz, for some people, voting is a private matter." Despite her pulling a Sarah Palin on me, I knew what that meant. She was voting Yes. And I was ashamed.
After speaking to her, I vented to Jesse. "How could I possibly be related to these people? First my mom thinks I actually liked Bush and now my sister is voting to put discrimination into the constitution of the most liberal state in the Union? Who are these people? How the Eff did I turn out this way?" Before I started to wonder if I was adopted, it dawned on me that I should've pushed the issue with my sister and I should've told my mom about the volunteering I did. Sure, my mom just misunderstood, but I really didn't understand where my sister was coming from. As a minority, we've experienced discrimination before and it sucks. Why my sister would support Prop 8 is beyond me.
Unfortunately, Prop 8 passed. It's not over yet though. I heard the ACLU has filed a suit or brief of some sort so the fight is still on.
I can't help feeling like I could've done more. I had worked so hard to turn Virginia blue that I hadn't really thought about the elections elsewhere. I assumed that Prop 8 was so ridiculous and hateful that a majority wouldn't consider voting for it.
I guess I was wrong.
Last week, my family came to DC and left to go back to Cali on Saturday. I feel as though I held my breath for 5 days straight and finally exhaled the minute we dropped them off at National Airport (and no, I will not call it 'Reagan').
I've got pictures to share as soon as I have the energy to connect my camera to my laptop (the energy is needed in finding the cord that connects the two). But I know that at least two of you are dying to know what happened when Jesse's family met mine.
After sightseeing earlier in the day, we all set out for Jesse's parents house in Clifton for a meal of hamburgers and hot dogs on the grill (yes, there were kids involved) and crabs from the Waterfront. We actually made it out to DC's Waterfront earlier in the day to get freshly steamed-alive Maryland blue crabs (poor things...so yummy, yet their death is so cruel). We were afraid of spoilage so as we went to the Air and Space Museum Annex (yawn!), the crabs hung out in the fridge. When we got back, Jesse decided to re-steam the crabs and I was put in charge of the grill.
Having never grilled anything in my life (although I have hungrily observed grilling many times), I wasn't entirely sure what to do, but I figured that making patties and throwing them on the grill should be easy enough. My mom, knowing that I had never grilled before, wanted to help but I was just fine despite her insistence. Pretty soon, Jesse's mom and sis arrived (with niece and nephew in tow) and all were introduced to my mom and sis. As we prepared the meal in the kitchen, Jesse's peeps and my peeps talked a lot (well, my sister did most of the talking as she usually does). It seemed that everyone was getting along splendidly.
Terror didn't strike my heart until Jesse's dad came and was left unsupervised. He's known for weaving quite the tall tales--or rather, his stories start off in truth and somehow, when a detail is forgotten, dramatically swerves towards the fiction until the ending becomes embellished to the point of the nonsensical. And so, he weaved his tall tales to my mom and sis, who were all hearing his stories for the first time.
I already knew to take his stories with a grain of salt. Yes, Jesse's dad is a very entertaining story-teller, but he does seem to require a suspension of disbelief if you know all of the parties involved in the story. So when Jesse started targeting Jesse with his tales and embarrassing him, it was all downhill from there. Jesse's dad even had the gumption to reveal something very personal about Jesse (something only me and his family knows about...and no, I am not revealing it here as some of Jesse's friends read this blog) which at the time reflected negatively on him. The problem is that my family didn't know anything about this 'secret' and its revelation kinda brought the good natured conversation to an incredibly awkward halt. What's worse is that no time frame was given as to when this 'secret' occurred (a long time ago) so for all I know, my family thinks this is a recent event and, knowing the secret now, may think somewhat negatively of Jesse because of it.
Yeah, I get that families do that--embarrass people in front of others. I know because my sister did that during the "Welcome to DC" happy hour I planed for them on Tuesday. But the revelation of the secret was bad. Very bad.
The funny part is that, despite the secret, my mom was concerned about one thing and one thing ONLY. The next day, when we had a few minutes to ourselves, she said, "When is he going to propose? Jesse hasn't told me anything and I thought he was going to propose last night with the family." Well, for one, there was no way that Jesse was going to propose in front of his family so I wasn't expecting anything. I understand that she has a sense of urgency about the marriage thing. But Jesse and I really good right now (well, I can't say we've ever been really bad tho) and I wish my mom could see that without having to worry about when we're going to get married.
After this week's debacle, last night, I asked Jesse, "Do you still love me?" He answered: "Yes." I asked, "Do you still want to marry me?" He answered, "Yes, of course I do. Why are you asking that?" I responded, "Well, after what happened this week, I wasn't exactly on my best behavior. And my family is kinda crazy." With a smile, he replied, "That's ok."
Jesse is such an easy going guy that it's really hard to stress him out over anything. And after this past week, that is exactly the kind of balance I need in my life.
My mom expected Jesse to propose while we were in Colorado. My heart has finally learned not to get its hopes up. It knows not to expect anything. Jesse has already assured me that a proposal is coming some time this year, so I'm not even going to speculate as to when it will be. Jesse is a man of his word. I trust him. Besides, I want to be surprised.
My mom, on the other hand, wants to know and she wants to know now. Is he going to make it official? When is he going to make it official? Well, he has to do it soon because it's been long enough (yes, mom, don't I know it). My church friends think you guys are roommates but the truth is you're living in sin. Stop living in sin and make it official already! Don't you want to get married before I die?
Oh, dear mom and her own sense of mortality.
I've quit worrying about these things (although I do have my momentary relapses). And you'll never guess the reasons why? There are two reasons: Dominick and now Gracie.
I know what you're thinking. Not ANOTHER I love my kitties post. But the reality is that I had been wanting a pet in our home since Jesse and I moved in together. And then he quickly shot down the idea because he wasn't ready. As he became more open to the idea of marriage, he became more open to having pets. And when he finally gave me the kitty ok, he followed it up with, "It's time to start our family."
Jesse can be so cute sometimes.
But the kitties do prove two things: that Jesse is embracing the idea of marriage as opposed to being afraid of it and that Jesse is going to be an amazing father one day. I've blogged about how great he is with his niece and nephew. But whenever he holds Dominick or Gracie in his arms like babies, my cynical, un-romantical heart melts into a pile of mushy, lovey-dovey-ness.
When I told my mom that I hadn't been proposed to in Denver, she kinda flipped out. I didn't even get to tell her about all the cool stuff we did there because she was so angry that Jesse hadn't sealed the deal. I told her to give Jesse some time and she replied, "He's had plenty of time. Until he proposes, I don't want him in my house."
Kinda extreme, no? Sometimes I think my mom lives in absolutes. With her, it's either yes or no, but never maybe. Or black and white but rarely gray.
Needless to say, I promptly said good bye to avoid an argument. Good thing we're not going to Cali together until Labor Day this year. Jesse actually really loves my mom so I hate when she says things out of spite. I know she wants what is best for me.
But I've learned that, sometimes, ultimatums are not the best way to get what you want.
When I was in high school, I was a candy striper at the hospital I was born in (St. Joseph's in Orange for the Cali peeps). It was something I did regularly, every Friday, for several years, even after I graduated. I enjoyed it, especially since I was hoping to go pre-med in college (that didn't quite turn out as well as I had hoped then, but I'm happy that I didn't end up in med school).
One of my favorite things about volunteering on Fridays was that the theme dinner at the hospital cafeteria that day was always Chinese (not sure if they still do that now). Me and my fellow candy stripers would unwind at the cafeteria and I would occasionally indulge my craving for Chinese food. The best part of the meal was the fortune cookie at the end.
I had a particularly significant encounter with a fortune cookie my senior year. I had just applied to a number of colleges and had interviewed for numerous scholarships. One of them was the Trustee Scholarship at USC, an academic scholarship that paid for all 4 years of college. Seeing as that I really wanted to go to USC and my mom told me she wasn't going to help me pay for college (12 years of private schooling was plenty for her to pay already) and USC is pricey, I was really, really hoping I would get this scholarship. I was incredibly stressed out around the time that I expected to hear from them about the scholarship. I so really, really wanted to go to USC.
One Friday, I went to volunteer at the hospital and decided to treat myself to Chinese food since I had had a rough week. At the end of my meal, I broke open my fortune cookie and the fortune said, "Hope for the best." Being quite the pessimist back then (now, I call it being a realist), I was really thinking that I wasn't going to get that USC scholarship and was dreading having to go with UCLA, since they had already offered me a generous scholarship. Ugh. You all know how much I hate those Bruins.
I decided to keep that fortune cookie fortune. I'm not sure why, but it spoke to me. It reminded me to remain positive and it was a message I really needed to hear.
That following Monday, I got a skinny envelope from USC. My mom handed it to me and my heart sank. Clearly, a small envelope must mean bad news. I took a deep breath and walked outside with it, where my dog Heidi was. I knew that she would let me cry into her fur if necessary. My mom stayed inside, looking at me curiously. She wanted to know what was in that envelope. I was too scared to open it. Somehow, out of nowhere, a voice inside me said that it was all going to be ok. I opened the envelope and read the letter inside.
"We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected to receive the prestigious Trustee Scholarship...blah, blah, blah."
It’s been two weeks since I last blogged. I’ve been a bad, bad blogger.
The truth is that there is so much I want to tell you about, but I can’t tell you about all the good stuff. Yes, I’m a tease. Unfortunately, all the good stuff is work-related.
It appears that work drama has become more intense since I turned in my notice. What should’ve been a relatively easy 6-weeks-until-my-last-day has become an I-can’t-wait-to-leave-this-place-so-let’s-start-a-countdown. Without revealing too much, the past couple of weeks remind me of every time I left a Crap store. Every time I was forced to leave a store (not in a bad way…I was at the whim of my district manager who would move managers around depending on their strengths and the needs of individual stores), my staff would freak out and start looking for other jobs or wonder out loud who would be their ally now. As flattering as this may seem at first, it’s actually a burden. It was hard to support everyone and it wasn’t until I had to leave these stores that I realized how much people depended on me. To be honest, leaving was liberating. And then the cycle would start all over again at a new store.
So, yes, I’ve been stressed lately. But it’s not just work. It’s Christmas. Don’t get me wrong. I’m almost done with my Christmas shopping (in fact, I’ve only got three gifts to go). My Christmas cards have all been sent. It’s Jesse. And the fact that all I want for Christmas is a marriage proposal (ring optional…see how flexible I am?).
It’s all very sappy really. And a Christmas proposal is so cliché. In fact, I’m sick of hearing those silly radio commercials for jewelry stores because they simply promote that cliché. But I want that. I want the grand proposal on bended knee in front of family and friends and right next to the Christmas tree. I really do want that. However, I’ve wanted it all year and as the year approaches its end, I want it even more.
With each passing day (Christmas will be here before you know it), I try to tell myself that it’s just not going to happen simply because I don’t want to get my hopes up. There is no indication whatsoever that Jesse is even ready to propose. But my shrink and I have agreed on a deadline (ok, so I set a date at her suggestion and she agreed with me). He has until January 1st, 2008.
So what am I really stressed out about? My brain is telling me that I won’t be proposed to by January 1st. Looks like I’m going to be ringing in the new year with a new job, without the love of my life and without a place to live (provided that I stick to my deadline).
However, my heart is still hoping that soon Jesse will look deeply into my eyes and tell me truthfully that he wants to spend the rest of his life with me.
Silly, stupid heart.
I'm not engaged.
My mother kindly reminded me of that fact last week when I told her about finally getting my dream job. After the laughing and the crying and the cheerful exclamations, my mother was kind enough to bring me down and ask, "So has Jesse proposed yet?" I reluctantly came down from cloud 9 to answer her question which she should already know the answer to (because Lord knows that I will call her as soon as it happens): "No."
She then went on to tell me that my sister who has been dating someone for almost 2 months is being asked suspiciously engagement-sounding questions by her new boyfriend like, "Do you prefer a solitaire or multiple stones?" and "Do you like yellow gold or white?" (Quick background: this new boo is in leukemia remission and may be in 'seize the day' mode). Also, the new boyfriend is trying really, REALLY hard to impress the family. I met him when I was home a few weeks ago and he actually put his arm around my mom while telling her something. That was maybe the second or third time he had seen my mom. He better not put his arm around me if I see him when I'm home for XMas.
The thought of my sister getting engaged before me freaked me out. Sure, I'm the one who has been in a steady, healthy relationship for the last 3+ years but she's the one who's going to get proposed to from a guy she's been seeing for two months. This depresses me. My mom was just venting her concerns but this really got me thinking, Some people just know, but what of the couples where only one half of them knows?
I know my mom didn't mean any harm in asking if I was engaged yet. It just makes sense that now that I have my dream job that maybe my dream husband would finally agree to take on that role too. But no, I'm not expecting a proposal any time soon. I had hoped to focus on how I finally have my dream job and how I will be starting my dream job in January.
However, I've always been very goal-oriented in my life. Once one of my goals has been accomplished, I move on to the next one. For the last 6 months I've been fretting over getting a new job. And now that I have the job I've always wanted, I really want the love of my life to promise to love me forever.
Is that too much to ask?
It seriously pains me that this hasn't been easy. I've heard all weekend from couples who "just knew" that their relationship was headed in that direction. So what if you felt your relationship was headed in that direction until you found out that the love of your life doesn't want to get married?
Now that I've solved one problem in my life, I'm naturally inclined to move on to dealing with the next one.
But I'm tired of feeling inadequate for having a boyfriend who's not ready to marry me. I just don't understand how everything else in our relationship has come naturally and easily except for this one BIG thing.
Kinda makes me think that it just isn't meant to be...
No, my mom is not dying. She’s alright, health wise, I suppose. Well, nothing a 4-drug cocktail to treat both diabetes and hypertension won’t fix. But a sense of mortality is something my mom instilled in me when I was really young. For as long as I can remember, my mom would often follow up her points with, “you just never know how much longer I’m going to be here” (here meaning, on this earth). When I was a kid, I didn’t pay too much attention to these comments. I just figured it was all part of the package—my mom’s handy bag of guilt trips. In the privacy of my own head, this became known as the “death guilt trip” and I figured it was my mom’s favorite, considering just how often she would remind me that she could die any day now.
I suppose for any other normal childhood, this concept could seem incredibly morbid, and probably too heavy for a young mind to grasp. But for my mom who unwillingly became a widow at 37, this was her life now. Her kids were now down to one parent. She learned that you just never know how long you have to be with someone, so it’s best to make the most of the time you have. So, whenever I disrespected or disobeyed my mom, she would end her scolding with “you just never know how much longer I’m going to be here.” It was her attempt to get me to hurry up and be a better person. After all, neither of us would want our final moments together to be spent in an argument.
I probably didn’t appreciate my mother until I left for college and realized how much harder life was without her around. Despite the many differences we’ve had over the years, I’m glad that I’ve been able to love and enjoy her company, advice, meddling in my personal affairs, etc. I wouldn’t have things any other way.
That’s why my brother’s recent douchebaggery is especially frustrating. I wish I could instill in him the same appreciation and respect I have. But this is something that needs to be learned. Despite the fact that he is 9 years older than me, he has yet to learn it or exhibit much maturity.
I spoke to my sister last night about that email she sent. L has yet to hear from our brother. We both lamented our brother’s immaturity in making our mom suffer like this. Sure, it’s tough to handle when your mom scolds you at the age of 38. But when you act like you’re 16, what should you expect?
My sister said, “One day, R is going to wake up and realize that he was wrong and I hope that mom will be around for that.” I replied with certainty, “Mom won’t be around for that. Rude Wife is his enabler and he has no motivation to grow up now, even though he is a father. It’s sad really, the example he is setting for his kids.” L stated, “Yeah, he just doesn’t realize that mom isn’t going to be around forever and that we have to make the most of the time we have now. Mom wants to be around to see Serena grow up and see you get married. But what if she doesn’t?”
And that’s when it hit me. Could that be why my mom has been pressuring me to get married? She’s afraid that she won’t be around to see me walk down the aisle? Is “Hurry up and get married” the next “You just never know how much longer I’m going to be here”? I’ve had visions of my mom walking me down the aisle. I’ll be damned if that doesn’t happen.
And suddenly the pressure to get married has taken on a new meaning.
Before Jesse and I visited Cali, my mom had warned me that she was going to sit Jesse down and have a serious conversation with him about the future of our relationship. At first, I was ok with it. After all, if my mom wanted to light a fire under Jesse’s ass, then go ahead. I’m tired of trying.
However, shortly before we flew out, I got the sense that my mom wasn’t planning on having a nice, civilized conversation with Jesse. I was under the impression (just by the nature of our phone calls leading up to the visit) that the conversation was going to go badly. I envisioned my mom just yelling at Jesse and me, telling us how she doesn’t approve of our ‘lifestyle.’ She’s so old-fashioned.
I was worried that the conversation would get ugly and ruin the budding relationship between Jesse and my mom. Jesse really likes my mom. I can tell. Despite her ‘quirkiness,’ it’s obvious that she loves me and has proven that she would do anything for me. Jesse understands where she’s coming from and why she’s crazy sometimes. And my mom, although she claims to be warming up to him still, likes Jesse or at least thinks he’s a good guy (which he is). No need to squash the budding future husband/mother-in-law relationship. So I prepared myself for World War III.
Instead, I got nothing. My mom and sister were on their best behavior and caused practically no drama. Being in their presence was actually pleasant, rather than tiring. It was a nice visit overall. It was so nice that I got the impression that my mom had changed her mind about sitting down with Jesse and having ‘The Talk.’
The morning we left for our (dreaded) flight back to DC, Jesse and I were rushing to get ready. Neither of us packed the night before so we were already behind by the time we woke up. I totally expected to stop by Starbucks to get some breakfast before our flight. So imagine my surprise when my mom came into my room while Jesse was showering and asked me, “Would you like me to make you breakfast?” A home cooked meal right before flying back to the God-awful East Coast (no offense) with no decent authentic Mexican food? My stomach wanted me to jump at the offer. However, I knew we were short on time. I told my mom, “Thanks but we’re in a hurry. We’re just going to pick up something on the way.” I saw the disappointment in my mother’s eyes when she asked again, “That’s ok. I’ll make it quick.” I didn’t have the heart to say no this time.
By the time I finished packing my suitcase and Jesse was out of the shower, my mom had cooked the perfect Mexican breakfast—huevos con chorizo and tortillas. Yum! Jesse and I sat down quickly and started eating as my mom drank a glass of tea at the table with us (she wasn’t hungry so she didn’t partake in her feast). Jesse and I had inhaled the food and we were about to get up and take our dishes to the sink when my mom said, “No, wait! I want to talk to you. The two of you.” DAMN! We were so close to walking out of the house never having heard my mom’s lecture. I knew I should’ve refused that breakfast. That will be the last time I let my belly do the thinking.
I sat there nervously, unsure of what my mom was going to say. I was expecting a lecture. I was expecting her to get angry. I was expecting her to just go off like I’ve seen her do whenever I’ve done something she doesn’t approve of.
Instead, my mom spoke to Jesse from the heart. She said, “I know that my daughter loves you. I can tell she does from the way she looks at you to the way she treats you. And she tells me that she loves you and that you are the one she wants to be with. I need to know how do you feel about her?” Jesse replied calmly and with certainty, “I love her very much.” My mom continued, “I need to know what your intentions are. What do you see in your future? What about marriage?” Again, Jesse calmly answered, “I definitely want to marry your daughter.” What my mom said next, I will never forget.
She said, “I was lucky to be married to my husband for 14 happy years. I loved him very much and he loved me. Sometimes it was hard. Sometimes it was easy. In our marriage, we grew together. You need to communicate and share things with each other. Because if you don’t, you will be living separate lives and that is not what a marriage is. Even though we were married for a short time before my husband passed away, I will never regret marrying him. It was the best decision I ever made.
Since my husband died, I have been both a mother and a father to Liz. I care for her in a special way. I want her to be happy. And she says that being with you will make her happy. And I hope that one day you will make the same choice I did in getting married.”
I will remember this forever for the following reasons:
I was supposed to go to Pittsburg for the weekend but Jesse got sick and we ended up going up there just for the day on Sunday so that Jesse could get in some quality guy time with his visiting friend (BTW, it was hot as Hades, plus we weren’t in Pittsburg for very long so I have no pics to share). Since Saturday ended up being a leisurely day of laying around and cuddling with my boo, I just had to ruin it by calling my mom that evening.
The phone conversation was going well until we started talking about my upcoming trip home. She asked me just how much time we were planning on spending in Orange County. I told her that we would be in Orange County and what days we would be in L.A., San Diego, and Catalina Island. And then she kinda changed the subject.
M: How long have you and Jesse been together?
Me: We just had our 3 year anniversary.
M: And when are you going to get married?
Me (sigh): I don’t know, Mom. I’d like to know that too.
M: Well, what are you waiting for?
Me: I guess I’m waiting for Jesse to be ready. I’m ready and he knows I’m ready.
M: And I’m ready for you two to get married. I don’t approve of your lifestyle and I plan on talking to Jesse about it when you guys come to visit.
Me: I’m sorry. “Lifestyle”? I thought you said you were ok with me and Jesse living together.
M: Yes, that’s ok. What I don’t approve of is living in sin before marriage. I would feel better knowing that you’re living like this because a marriage is imminent.
Me (at this point, I’m seriously concerned that my mom has figured out that I’m not a virgin): Living in sin? Yeah, I suppose we are but you’ve known that all along.
M: Yes, but I didn’t know that you and Jesse know each other intimately.
Me (DAMN IT! She knows. I don’t know how she knows but she does. I freak out but remain calm on the phone.)
M: You know, I really thought that you were going to wait until you got married. I’m disappointed in you. But what’s done is done. I’m assuming that since you already went ahead and did what you know you weren’t supposed to do that you’re planning on marrying Jesse.
Me (notice how she doesn’t actually use the word ‘sex’ but uses rather creative euphemisms instead): Yes, mom, I know in my heart that I only want to be with Jesse.
M: Well, I need to know what his intentions are because I simply don’t approve of your lifestyle. He needs to tell me that he’s going to marry you.
Me (quietly): Me first.
My mom goes on to tell me about other stuff (thankfully), namely, my sister’s recent meeting with her ex, Mr. I-Love-You-After-Three-Dates. It turns out that she doesn’t want to get back together with him. I’m so proud of her.
So, now, Jesse and I have some family drama to take care of. Thank goodness we’re only spending a couple of days in the OC. At first, I was ok with my mom giving Jesse “the Talk’ about marrying me. But if it’s going to include a lecture on how sex before marriage is wrong, then I must object. However, I neither confirmed nor denied having sex with Jesse so maybe I can keep the lie alive and avoid this whole conversation with my mom. Or I could just come clean and tell her the truth. And if I’m feeling particularly sadomasochistic, then I should add that I work for a pro-choice organization, I haven’t been to church in years, and I refuse to be a practicing Catholic because I don’t agree with the Church’s teachings on almost everything (namely abortion, euthanasia, gays, and gay marriage). Also, I find it hard to follow a Church that has done everything in its power to protect known pedophiles.
Or maybe I just won’t tell her all of that extra stuff and not get kicked out of the family.
Ok, so my mom knows I’m having sex and not saving myself for marriage like she previously thought. But her knowing this is so much bigger than that. I feel like I’ve come to a crossroads here. On one path, I could come clean about everything and my mom will finally know the real me. The destination of this path is definitely not clear but it may involve some shunning on my family’s part. Then there’s the other path, the safe one. This one involves denying the sexual activity, pretending to be the good practicing Catholic that I am not, etc. At least I know my family will continue to love and accept me if I take the safe path.
I know what the right path is. But it’s scary.
I can’t believe that I am 28 years old and dealing with this crap.
It’s been a while since the last time I talked about therapy (what? Like two weeks?). Yesterday’s session was particularly thought provoking so I just had to share.
My visits with Dr. W are evolving into a routine of sorts. Every visit starts out with Dr. W asking me about my sleep patterns from the last week. After all, my sleeplessness is what made me seek out therapy in the first place so it’s nice that she keeps asking me about it. However, we all know that my therapy is now about more than just my sleeplessness.
She then asks me how things are going at work. This usually determines the content of my session (and probably why I haven’t been blogging about therapy in a while). If work is the reason why I can’t sleep, we end up talking about that and my future and my professional goals, etc. If work is good and not causing me any stress, then we move on to the usual topic—the boyfriend.
Yesterday, after getting all of the fluff out of the way, Dr. W asked me about Jesse. I told her about my recent pregnancy scare (if you could even call it that) and how I asked Jesse what would happen if I got preggers (for that story, click here). I said to her, “I feel good knowing that Jesse continues to picture me as being a part of his future.” Dr. W replied (in total Debbie Downer mode which is so not like her), “How do you know he’s not just telling you things to keep you around?” I thought about that for a while. The truth is that I have no idea. I am certain that Jesse loves me and I trust and believe in that. As far as whether or not we’re going to get married, I have no idea. I do know that Jesse is a man of his word. I answered Dr. W, “Jesse doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean. But I trust he’s not just telling me what I want to hear. How do YOU know that he is or isn’t?” Sensing my defensiveness, Dr. W replied, “I don’t. But I want you to be open to the possibility.” I’m not open. End of story.
I’ve been getting the impression that Dr. W is lumping Jesse in with all of the male patients that she’s been seeing (and has seen in the past) about their fear of commitment. I’ve always felt that Jesse is unlike ‘all the other guys’. I refuse to believe that he could ever get lumped in a category. He’s special. And not just to me. He truly is different.
In the course of an hour, I went from being pretty happy to pretty hopeless about my future with Jesse. And then Dr. W took a shot at redemption. She started telling me about her male patients who have a fear of commitment. Dr. W said, “These men, they come in here telling me about how much they love their girlfriends and their girlfriends are pushing them to propose and get married and they just can’t. They can’t take that extra step. I challenged one of my patients to really look deep inside. I told him, ‘Your girlfriend is completely powerless. She’s already told you that she wants to spend the rest of her life with you and you’re the one who isn’t sure, who thinks that maybe there’s someone else out there who might be better. But it’s not about the grass being greener. It’s about the power and how you have it now. You’re afraid that will change once you get married. You can’t commit because you don’t want to lose or share the power.’ He didn’t see it at first, but then he began to realize that it really was about the power.”
I asked Dr. W, “So you see this a lot, huh?”
Dr. W said, “In my many years of experience with this issue, the loss of power was a common theme. I even saw this in some of the nicest guys. It’s usually harder for them to realize it.”
I wasn’t ready to hear the answer, but I was super curious. I just had to ask. “Of all the guys you have seen with a fear of commitment, how many of them end up getting married?”
I held my breath while Dr. W thought about her answer. I thought my chest was going to explode and then she finally said, “I’d say 90%.” My response: “Wow.”
I left my appointment feeling pretty good about myself and my chances of getting Jesse to be open to the idea of marriage. But the time I got to the Metro, the cynic in me had a thought and it ruined my hopeful mood.
What if Dr. W was just telling me what I wanted to hear?
Eat before drinking. Eat before drinking. Eat before drinking.
I’m not quite sure how many times I have to remind myself. But to prevent what happened to me this weekend, I’ll repeat this over and over again if I have to. I’m not quite sure why I keep making the same mistake.
On Friday, I was too busy at work to eat lunch. So, when happy hour came, I drank on an empty stomach. And boy did I drink. I was plastered by 7:30 and came home to pass out at 8 pm. I passed out for a little while and then woke up to get sick. I ended up being sick for the rest of the night. It was just like my single days…except this time, I had a loving guy waiting to hug me every time I came back from praying to the porcelain gods. How he could still hug me despite the smell of vomit I had to be emitting is beyond my comprehension.
Friday night’s stomach escapades set the tone for Saturday’s wedding in Yorktown. Jesse’s old college roomie was getting married on the beach there and I was not in the mood for a long drive or the drinking that is usually involved at wedding receptions. The wedding went off without a hitch (it was literally a group of people gathered on the beach for a quickie ceremony). The reception started immediately after, where the alcohol flowed as freely as the York River. Naturally, I abstained. The mere smell of alcohol effectively brought back really bad memories of the previous night. The toasts were done with margaritas instead of champagne, which I would’ve loved to have participated in. I did feel obligated to sip, but couldn’t manage another one after the first toast.
Everything was fine for the most part. During the wedding, I finalized my lists of wants for my wedding. I am completely aware that it is absolutely absurd to be planning my wedding when I can’t even get my boyfriend to want to marry me (let alone propose). It’s like buying a house-full of furniture before even consulting a real estate agent to buy a house. But I can’t help but plan my own wedding considering how many weddings I’ve been to since I started seeing Jesse. I feel like I learn a little bit after each one (which would make me an expert at weddings by the time I get married). So, this is how I would do it…
