"I'm Sort of Neutral About It." Just when you think only color can be fun, accessories like these come along. I mean, look at those shoes! And that purse! Again, we're mixing opposite tones (warm gold vs. the its cool silver counterpart), but it works, especially since the bag and bangle feature both colors. This outfit is close to my heart, because I rarely leave the house without a bangle like this one. So far, I have about 20, but I plan on accumulating many more. Even if I'm wearing a t-shirt and jeans, something jazzy around my wrist takes it up a big notch. Before bangles, I relied mostly on statement earrings--either really colorful or really big. But I've nearly given them up. I like how a bangle balances out the whole picture--something about it carrying the eye away from what you're wearing and towards your hands I find very sexy.
Today's episode is about families--our own and the ones we date into.
I woke up this morning feeling thankful. "It's about time!" you may say. I wouldn't blame you. My entries have been pretty dapper these past few days. I wasn't sorry for feeling the way I did yesterday. I still think it's fine and healthy to accept my feelings. I just realized the monster of self-pity I was facing and that it--probably more than any job market--is what I have to fight to overcome. Two other things also happened last night to make me appreciative. The first was that I received a call from my sister at 11:00 pm, telling me that she and Mom had just sent me a funny email. I'm pretty sure she doesn't read my blog religiously, so I don't think it was out of sympathy. She just had good timing. The email contained pictures of the two of them that were stretched to look like reflections in a carnival fun mirror. Absolutely goofy. I couldn't help but smile and say a prayer of gratitude.
The other thing that happened was that Hank read my blog, came out of his study to give me a big hug, and then asked if he was doing something wrong. It seemed from what I wrote that I was sick of him. It melted me. I reminded him that he has been completely helpful during this whole time, that he's a wonderful partner, and that my feelings of being cut off from the world have nothing to do with him. They have to do with me. In that moment, I realized how good I have it. I have a family that makes me laugh and a boyfriend who does everything he can to make me happy. It was time I started making myself happy.
Speaking of families, Carrie dates a man who (surprise!) has wonderful parents and siblings. His mother and Carrie immediately connect. Unfortunately, things with the guy don't work out, and Carrie realizes that the hardest part of breaking up with him is breaking up with his family. Miranda starts seeing a divorced guy with a child, despite her reservations. Things are going well, until she accidently slams the door on the kid, giving him a head wound. The guy tells her to leave and not come back. Familial love first, I guess. Charlotte consoles her visiting brother, who's in the middle of a terrible divorce. She takes him out with her friends, thinking it will cheer him up, and it does. He sleeps with Samantha. Charlotte freaks, yelling at her friend for having a vagina that must be "in the New York City guidebooks...because it's always open." That must be one of the best lines in the entire series. She later feels terrible, brings Samantha muffins and thanks her for making her brother so happy, and the two make up.
Family really is a complicated part of dating someone. In my relationship history, I've seen what seems like every family issue known to woman. With Arnold, the first guy I was engaged to (remember there was more than one of these) who was and still is terminally sick, his mother loathed me, may she rest in peace. Seriously, she died two years ago. We had to live with her for a few months, and it was hell. Stressed out that her son was sick, disappointed that he was not settling down with a woman who dusted the furniture every week, and bitter about her own failed marriage, she tried to push me as far away from him as possible. It worked. It wasn't why I broke up with him, but it didn't help his case.
Then there was my ground school instructor, Tom, a pilot with a sweet 5-year-old girl. Although he was very nice and was a good father, I couldn't stomach that at 20 years old, I would be raising someone else's child before I had finished college. I liked him, but family planning was off.
I dated Travis next. Hanging around his family was so easy. They were accepting, low-maintenance, and real. Since Travis and I were together for three years, they fully expected us to one day get married. I even thanked them for their support in my graduation speech, right after thanking my own family. (To illustrate further, his sister came to hear me speak, while my sisters played hookie.) When we broke up, saying goodbye to them, like for Carrie, was one of the hardest parts. We all bawled.
Jorge, the second Peruvian man I dated and the second man I was engaged to, no longer had parents. His mother had passed away when he was 13, and his father had died when Jorge was 21. He and his two brothers had been alone, but for a sweet aunt, for most of their adult lives, basically taking care of each other. When I met his aunt for the first time, she hugged me for a long time and whispered in my ear, "Por favor, no hurt him. He had very sad life." It nearly broke my heart. I think I stayed with him for the last five months almost exclusively because of what she had said, even though things were clearly not working. Even when I took him to the airport to catch his flight to Argentina for work, though neither of us cried, I couldn't help but feel I was failing in my responsibility to take care of him (not a healthy relationship dynamic, I have to add).
After that was Brad, the man I dated right before Hank. His mother had been my 1st and 2nd grade teacher, and she had always encouraged him to date me (the doctor's daughter) throughout high school. He did. Even though we always felt an attraction to each other, her insistence was actually a turn-off for both of us. We both knew it was the wrong reason to be together. You want your partner's mom to like you once she gets to know you, not because of who your parents are or because she heard you did well on the ACT.
Then there was Hank. I first saw pictures of his parents on Facebook (ah, how times change). His mom looked so sweet and classic, with beautiful, long, grey hair and perfect facial features. She was also fashionable (that'll get me every time). His dad looked a little dorky (a really good sign in my book) and had on a great suit. I put a lot of stock into photos--how a person smiles, etc--and while I didn't want to meet them right away, they looked promising. I wanted to take that part of things really slow. I didn't want to fall in love with his family or he mine until we knew it was the right time. I didn't want to add that pressure to the situation.
But sometimes you can't help forming a relationship. The last time we were at his parents' house, we played a somewhat raunchy board game, and his mom let Hank and I sleep in the same bed--both big bonding moments. When she calls him, she asks to speak with me too, and has been known to talk to me longer than to Hank.
Yes, family brings complications, good and bad. I have cried when my sisters have broken up with certain boyfriends, and they have cried when I have. My Mom has gotten so attached to my significant others and their families in the past that when I met Hank, she said she was fine not meeting his parents until our wedding day. If two people are together for any significant amount of time, they are bound to form strong ties with their partner's family of origin. It would be sad not to.
So, for a post on families, let me just say that mine--my parents, my sisters, my boyfriend, my dog, and my friends--couldn't be better. Here's to getting along with your partner's family but not better than you get along with your partner.
Hope you'll be back. I will.
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