Tag Archives: marriage

The Key to a Healthy Relationship is More Relationships – 2 of 2

If you’re just tuning in and have trouble staying focused like most humans seem to when it comes to the written word, this means that you didn’t finish reading the title of this entry which ends with “2 of 2.”  So, to get the most out of this topic, which I think is important, please click here for the first part of this write-up so that you fully understand why the hell I’m discussing people currently in my life.  Or as I like to call it, “my village.”  I know that a lot of you won’t click… so I’m going to first encourage you again to do so, otherwise this may be confusing.  Then, because I know a lot of you still won’t, I will quickly summarize the point I am attempting to make.  In modern romance, we have grown to expect one person to satisfy all of our human desires, from security and dependability to adventure and spontaneity and that’s unrealistic.  Different people play different, yet integral roles in our lives, and we need all of them to keep us fulfilled and happy.

Every Sunday night I drink gin gimlets with Snow White.  Her and I have a lot in common, so when you parallel our personalities, it might make sense that we would get along.  We both have a unique perspective of the world that others may classify as odd or eccentric.  The unexpected part about our friendship is that she is barely twenty years old.  Twenty-year-olds can be entertaining for a second, but for the most part, they are not going to hold my interest every Sunday night because there is little chance that they can say something that I haven’t already thought about.  There are exceptions, and Snow White is one of them.  She’s further than an exception,  I would describe her more as an anomaly because she is not like talking to a girl.

Girls are great, and having a girly outlet is a need in my life.  Having a person in my life who I can have cerebral discussions with is also a desire I seek, but you don’t often find yourself in a cerebral conversation with chicks.  Snow White and I at times have challenging conversations that I’m finding inspiring.  She is one of the smartest people I know and she makes me want to learn more.  Somehow she makes things like the value of entropy sound like something I want to study.  Having inspiration in my life is definitely a role that I need present.  I’m used to being creatively inspired, but I’m really enjoying Snow White’s scholastic inspiration.  I’d like to think that in some way I do the same for her.  We have a kind of beautiful complementary friendship because she will teach me about acute pulmonary embolism, and then I’ll tell her stories, summarizing for her the poignance of Of Mice and Men or the genius ending to Lord of the Flies.  It’s a nice little routine and I love my Sunday night’s with Snow White.

I used to need my significant other to inspire and challenge me.  I still LOVE when boys I am with do that, but now I’ve recognized that maybe that doesn’t need to be what their principle role is in my life.  If I keep people like Snow White in my “village” and others who inspire me, then that desire will be fulfilled and I won’t feel unsatisfied by my boyfriend if he is not the one making me run to an encyclopedia or a canvas to everyday.

Then there is Lady Insanity.  Lady Insanity is a 50-year-old woman who matches her eyeliner color to her shirts, she is obsessed with mini bottles of hand sanitizer, she owns a tanning bed that is in the guest bedroom, her favorite drink is Bud Light Lime-A-Ritas, and she slaps me when I “take the lord’s name in vain.”  I don’t know how or why, but I seem to have recently ended a lot of my nights with this crazy woman.  We absolutely have some great times (bordering on sloppy), but we also have become strong friends.  We talk to each other about a lot, and we support and help each other.  It’s a very unexpected friendship.  Sometimes she satisfies my spontaneous desires because I’ll think it’s going to be a low-key night, but suddenly I’m with her, singing along to Snoop Dogg songs and then going to talk to psychics.  Then some nights she plays the role of a more maternal, voice of reason to my life.  We all need days when we get wasted by the pool and then think it’s a good idea to dance in public.  And we all need days to talk shit out and get insight and advice from someone who has been there.  Lady Insanity is one of the ones that meets both of those desires.

Kristy is my best friend and you would NEVER guess it.  She looks like she was in a sorority, she is loud and outrageous, she is the most high strung person I have ever met, she is obsessed with “nippies” which are nipple covers and she will happily tell you all about them and send you a link to the ordering page.  Essentially, Kristy was a Xanax girl.  We all know those.  The chicks in college who were into Xanax, they all have very similar characteristics am I right?  If I had to sum them up… borderline obnoxious but fun.  Kristy is like that on the surface, but then you get to know her and she is such a beautiful human being.  That girl has been there for me through every single life obstacle I have gone through post sophomore year of high school.  A lot of these obstacles, I probably couldn’t have fought through had it not been for her.  She has been my life support during times when I thought I would never recover.  Kristy is the only person in the world who knows EVERYTHING about me.

Luckily, I really like her fiancé and her other friends too.  So often there is about five or so of us who go out for drinks, and it is always such a good time.  My cheeks hurt from laughing.  I’ve come to notice that almost every time we are all sitting around a table drinking beer, Kristy’s asshole gets brought up.  I don’t know how or why, but it seems like at some point in the night, we all start talking about her butthole for some absurd reason.  The last time was her fiancé asking her if he has been in her ass the furthest.  “I don’t need names!” he said, “I just want to know that if anyone else has been in there, that I have been in the deepest.”  Such a ridiculous conversation, but I was dying.  I’ve been sitting at a bar with them before when they ordered a sex toy on their smartphones from amazon.  Obviously, Kristy plays the role of “best friend, trusted confidant” by which she meets my human desire for “dependability and permanence.”  All at the same time… I have so much fun with her and that girl can make me laugh.

These descriptions of people who make my world go ‘round, leads to me Logan.  Logan meets multiple desires, but I would never expect him to meet all, which is why even though he is a new addition in my life, I still need all of the people I’ve already discussed in order to maintain a healthy romantic relationship with him.  If I abandoned those relationships, or if he abandoned his, then we would seek ALL of those desires from each other and that is unrealistic and unfair and would ultimately lead to an inevitable demise and most likely resenting each other.  Basically, what happens to a lot of couples who devote their lives to one another and don’t nurture the other integral relationships in their INDIVIDUAL lives.

What is amazing about Logan, and one of the reasons why he impresses me more and more every single day, is that he is the only boy I have ever been with who seems to TRULY recognize that, and does not just pretend to.  He also impresses me because even after telling me that he shaves his fucking forearms because he thinks it makes the swollen muscles show up better after leaving the gym… I’m still obsessed with him.  That’s a feat.  He deserves at least a high five for that because normally I would be gone before that sentence was even complete.  We have grown accustom to a point system using high fives.  So when he tells me that he shits his pants once a decade (which is something that I could very easily write an entire entry about), he gets at least negative a million high fives.  But when he says “I was super into Xena Warrior Princess when I was younger … For real, I was all about that bitch,” as a way to prove that he is not sexist, it makes me laugh really hard and want to kiss him and he gets at least two high fives for that.

So world, meet Logan, the boy with the dodgy eyes.  The first time I saw him, I crossed my fingers that he would talk to me.  According to him, it was my smile that honed him in, but for me, it was his eyes.  He has this dangerous, kind of shady look about him that was really doing something for my boy crazy side.  Three months and about multiple boys later, and Logan is my rock.  I’ve always found that line to be incredibly lame, but if I said, “Logan is my tree trunk,” that would be weird.  I do think of him more like a solid tree trunk though, because I koala the shit out of him.  That’s what he calls it.  I latch on to his torso like a koala on a Eucalyptus tree and he just walks around with me like that with no struggle.  Or throws me onto the bed and manhandles me, which is my favorite.  I lay on him, and kind of climb all over him (especially when we are laying on the couch and I am making him watch Dawson’s Creek), and his body can take it all.  He is big with a ridiculously solid, strong core.

What this description is leading up to is that part of Logan’s role in my life, is like his stomach muscles.  I know that is a weird thing to say.  I’m definitely a weirdo, and Logan definitely is not.  He’s a self-proclaimed bro dude.  A lot of his interests are so douchey.  He likes football and fights and power lifting and he was a bouncer and listens to OG hardcore and has a fucking tattoo of Florida, among other douchey tattoos.  Every time I see the Florida tattoo, I say “Flo Grown!” and he rolls his eyes and says something like, “Okay, you bitch.”  And that makes me giggle and then he just sighs and lets his arms flop to the side until I’m done laughing and then I probably make fun of him for something else like, “remember the time you went to a vape convention?”  Then I REALLY start laughing and he sighs again, and then says, “are you done?” and I’m probably not, but he’ll grab my face in the middle of my laughter and kiss me and look me in the eye and say, “you are so fucking beautiful.”  I am so fucking lucky.

I have embraced his douche bag qualities because when you put them all together, Logan is gold.  He has embraced my weirdness and adapted to it.  When I explained to him that, “you are for me, like your stomach muscles.  I can punch it or koala it or put my weight on it, and it doesn’t falter.”  His response was back, “I pinky promise that I am always going to be like my stomach muscles for you.”  When he said that odd sentence, I knew that he had fully embraced my weirdness and was learning to speak my language.

A friend of mine, named Mark, said something to me a while ago that stuck.  He is much older than me… maybe in his late 60’s or early 70’s? so it felt like words of wisdom.  He told me that one should NOT marry their best friend, but instead marry for lust.  I’ve never been an advocate for marriage (to put it lightly), but I still heard what he was saying.  People often advise, “marry your best friend,” but even at a young age, I never felt that I agreed with that, though I couldn’t articulate why until now.  Mark is right.  There should be people in your life that already meet those “best friend” desires.  You shouldn’t need a best friend in a partner, you should WANT your partner.  Sex.  Lust.  Whoo!  Fun words!  Sex and lust are basic human desire and unless we want to start debating monogamy, is a desire that in our culture we tend to get from one person at a time.  So why not be with somebody who wholly satisfies your sexual desires?  The one thing that no one else can give you.

Obviously, other characteristics are important.  You can’t have lust and nothing else.  But I think we write off lust too quickly when considering partners because for absurd reasons, people associate lust with sin.  I don’t think that I should necessarily be giving relationship advice, but you’ve made it this far, so I might as well continue with my self-righteous solution.  I think that the person you decide to really try with, should be the person who you can’t wait to talk to about your day, and also the person who you can’t wait to grab their face and make-out with.  I think that Logan and I will be okay because on top of wanting to rip his clothes off AND talk to him about everything constantly, he meets my human desire for stability, acceptance, laughter and dependability.  Money doesn’t matter to me, but the older I get, the more I realize that stability does.  Logan is stable, and it’s hot.  Like I said, my tree trunk.  He also accepts me wholly.  We all need people like that in our lives.  Those who accept our past and flaws and nuances and show no desire to change any of it.  And Logan makes me laugh.  A lot.  Which is sexy.

So world, meet Logan.  I thought I had eradicated hope from my life, but I do hope that he is around for a while and that you all can get to know him.  And I still cross my fingers everyday that he will keep talking to me.

To truly bring this full circle, I’ve realized that none of these people would be in my routine and none of these human desires would be met if I was still touring a lot.  Road life was absolutely what I needed over the last few years, and I loved it.  I also truly believe that I am a better and wiser person because of my roadie life, but I think I’m ready to move on from that now.  I was using touring as a form of escapism and while it was a friggen blast at times, I currently don’t feel the need to escape and I have all of these people to thank for that.

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I Dare You

Laying low at a bar.  What else is new.  I was reading Maxim at a high top in the shadowed area of the Chic-a-Boom Room, a cool spot located in Dunedin, Florida.  Two guys walked by, and a few seconds later, one of them comes back around.

“My friend told me to turn left for the bathroom, but I had to turn right to tell you how pretty you are.”

I literally laughed out loud.  I fucking love cheesy pick-up lines.  I think they’re so much fun.  My favorite…

(Picture a boy acting like he’s in a deep discussion with another friend, then turns to you…)  “Hey.  Do you know how much a Polar Bear weighs?”

“No.”

“Enough to break the ice.  (Offers out his hand)… “My name is Mikey.”

I fell for that one.  I thought it was hilarious and that boy got a genuine laugh.  Anyway!  Although I was one hundred percent flattered and entertained by the lame, “turn left/turn right” pick up line, I didn’t, at first, take him seriously as a human being at all.  Because of my curse, to my not so surprise, I discovered that he was the musician playing at the bar that night.  OF COURSE.  But that’s irrelevant.

Side note:  I understand that it’s incorrect to start a sentence with a conjunction, and I understand that I just did it twice, but sometimes it’s just necessary for effect.  Side note #2: I will admit that I just spent a solid two and a half minutes trying to decide if I should use “effect” or “affect” with that last sentence, but gave up and went with the most popular.

Back to the story.  Later, I was sitting at the bar, next to a fellow solo female bar patron.  She bought me a shot, which was incredibly sweet and “female bonding” of her.  Once I took my nose out of my magazine, and started being at least mildly social, I quickly realized that she was friends with the musician.  The one with the cheesy pick-up line.  Boy, do they have some history!  I loved their chemistry and weird relationship, which was put out on display for me as the night and conversation progressed between the three of us.  While I’d love to digress, and tell you about their doomed romance, instead, I’ll get to my point.

The point of this random musing is that this night, reminded me that EVERYONE, even the guy with the terrible pick-up line has something to offer if you just listen.  I believe his name was Jeremy?  Maybe?  So Jeremy, the guy who I originally didn’t take seriously as a human being, ended up saying something which I found to be relatively profound.  To paraphrase his drunken theory… he basically said that all it takes to save a relationship, or maintain a long-term relationship, is twenty minutes of undivided attention a day.  Whatever relationship in your life that is lacking, whether it’s a romantic relationship, a close friendship, a familial relationship… whatever.  Put aside twenty minutes of your day, to give that person all of yourself.  Leave your cell phone, your to-do list, the television remote and your insincerity, and listen.  Listen and talk with that person for a solid twenty minutes.  That’s all it takes, and it will take you far.

Jeremy seemed to relate this to a marriage.  He definitely is not married, but the way he was talking, I’m assuming that he was at one point.  Sadly, I think he made this “twenty-minute self-help” discovery too late.  I related this advice to my relationship with my Mother.  My Mom is a beautiful human, and if everyone had a little bit more of her in them, the world would be a better place.  I truly believe that.  However, she can be absolutely annoying at times, and for me, difficult to talk to and find common ground with.  But after contemplating Jeremy’s theory, I decided that if I simply take twenty minutes of my day, and put aside my differences with my mom and embrace her quirks, I think it could make a world of difference.  It could build our relationship, make it stronger and be overall beneficial for both of us.

So I dare all of you, to be still.  Be still, for only twenty minutes a day with the person in your life that you love, and care enough about to save a relationship with.    Advice from the drunken free-spirit musician at the bar.  To add to this….

Caitlin rule:  Give EVERYONE the time of day.  They may just surprise you.

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Dear Bearded Musicians,

Please do not get married.  I ask this of you because inevitably you and I will meet, have an annoyingly profound connection, and we’ll both be sorry about that wedding band around your finger that is now suffocating the both of us.  Thanks!

Love,

Caitlin

Epilogue:  I am cursed with falling in love with every guy I come across with an acoustic guitar, tattoos, a beard and a raspy voice.  That may sound incredibly specific, but I would say at least one out of every four musician’s fall into that category.  Fuck my life.

Like many of my tales, this one starts at a bar.  I wasn’t there for five minutes before I made “The Iron Man Eye-Contact.”  This type of eye-contact is very different from typical flirty, eye-fucking exchanges that are made between you and a hot stranger.  Iron Man Eye-Contact only comes around a handful of times in life, and it’s like when Iron Man is in his helmet, and he targets someone and the red lights start flashing, the two of you are locked in… there’s no going back and all of this information appears about the target.

His name was Pete, and I can’t stop thinking about him.  Jesus Christ.  When I looked at him, it was just like Iron Man’s instant information stream.  I felt like I already knew so much about him and knew we would instantly vibe.  He walked past me, and did one of those unnecessary touching your back things while saying excuse me, even though there is plenty of room to pass without the physical contact.  Okay, done.  I was wet just from that, so I knew I was saying hi to him on his way back over.

Just as expected, we immediately hit it off in a way that made it feel like it was scripted dialogue.  Three minutes into the conversation I find out he’s in a band.  Of course.  Fifteen minutes in I find out he plays guitar in the band.  Of course.  Beard, of course.  Tattoos, of course.  Raspy voice… considering my curse, I would say it’s safe to assume that is another, of course.

Eighteen minutes in and he grabs me by the hand, leading me to a quieter area of the bar.  Wet.  Twenty-five minutes into the conversation, my friends that I drove with are ready to leave, so I’m about to mention that we should meet again, and I see the wedding ring glaring at me, radiating energy as if it’s the friggen ring from Lord of the Rings.  It was a stab to the stomach.  First of all, you’re a touring musician and you’re married?!  What is wrong with you?  Secondly, fuck you and me!  We’re both screwed now because I know you felt it too.  So I said bye and just left.  I’m sure I’ll never see that Pete again, but I know that I’ll forever think that we both probably missed out on something really good.

So, my bearded tattooed guitar playing friends, the moral of the story is:

Do not get married, because with my curse, there is a strong possibility that the two of us will meet and both want to rip out our eyeballs if you are.

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Confessions of a Heedless Sinner – Vol. 5

Can I be a Maid of Honor and be the person who objects to this union?

I’m at that age where a bunch of my friends are either getting married or popping out kids and it blows my mind.  Every time a friend tells me of their engagement, I have to make a conscious effort to not roll my eyes.  I know, I’m awful, but let’s get serious… it’s a bad idea.  I thought my generation would be smarter about it, not make the same stupid mistakes all of our divorced parents did by marrying when they were too young.  Nope.  I should know better than to give this heedless generation the benefit of the doubt.

I think it’s more romantic to be together forever and not be married, because it would mean that you’re together because you want to be, not because you’re bound by law.  Despite me always being very vocal about how much I think marriage is death sentence at our age, and despite me being the type that if for some absurd reason, I decided to sign my life and happiness away, the wedding guest’s would be placing bets on whether or not I would runaway at the altar.  Despite all of this, I have still been asked to be a Maid of Honor.  Twice.

I am the absolute last person anyone should want as their Maid of Honor.  The second the bride begins to get cold feet the day of the wedding, instead of giving her a pep talk, I would be the one pulling the car around front and planning an escape route while shoving her into the front seat, replacing her heels with tennis shoes and stealing massive amounts of champagne bottles on the way out.

The last wedding that I was in, I approached the bride, my friend, reminding her that it was not too late to run.  She laughed.  I didn’t.  I was dead serious.  I would have to be with someone for at least eight years before I would consider marrying him.  Maybe I’ll become a masked superhero who saves people from the biggest mistake of their lives.  I could descend from the chapel ceilings, Mission Impossible style, during weddings with couples who have been together for less than three years.  I’m not sure what I would do from there, haven’t worked out the details yet.  But I would be the next great X-Man and have a room at the X-Mansion where I would rub Xavier’s bald head all day, have hot rough sex with Logan, become best friends with Beast and punch Jubilee in the face, because someone needs to.  Excuse my nerdgasm.

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