Day 37: Sugar and Spice

Love, love, love everything about this outfit. The bag makes me drool, and the trench is on my next-to-buy list. I have multiple lists, if you're wondering, only one of which--the "need" list--Hank knows about and approves of--until now, that is. He said to me the other day, "You simply can't buy more clothes, because there's nowhere to put them." Men are so naive. We can ALWAYS make room. Speaking of shopping, this would be a great ensemble to do it in--everything is easy to take off (sexual pun intended). For that reason I'm calling it, "Sale!"

"And then I realized it. What was wrong was, for the first time in my life, I was in a relationship where absolutely nothing was wrong." Carrie

Well, this episode is a doosy. I don't think anyone actually says that anymore, but I'm taking a chance. The big question is: Is there such thing as a relationship being too easy? Do we need drama to stay interested? Do we prefer men to be unavailable?

Carrie is getting in deep with Aidan, and things are smooth sailing. However, she finds herself getting antsy. When Aidan asks her to meet his parents, she freaks out and accuses him of being too available. Over the next few days, when Aidan doesn't return her messages and Carrie spots Big and Natasha at the opera, Carrie realizes what a great guy Aidan is and vows to let him know...starting off with meeting his parents. Charlotte decides to approach dating like business, so she starts networking, asking her married friends to hook her up with eligible bachelors. In a twist of fate, a friend's husband declares his love for her, totally throwing her off. She runs from the bar and right in front of a cab carrying Trey, who she begins to date. Miranda loves living with Steve and the intimacy they've developed. She even enjoys doing his laundry--until she sees stains in his underwear. Just as she starts to wonder if their romance is dying and things are becoming monotonous, Steve shakes it up in the bedroom. Samantha dates a doctor who takes Viagra recreationally, and she decides to try it. After she becomes addicted, the doctor cuts her off from the sex, but writes her a prescription for the medicine.

This kind of episode makes me almost uncomfortable, I can relate so much. I know what it's like to feel like something is wrong because nothing is wrong. I know what it's like to want to chase the only man in the room who doesn't seem interested in you. Does everyone? Hank says that good guys know the following truth: when they're too nice, the woman becomes disinterested and leaves them for a bad boy. Maybe there's something in all of us that yearns for challenge and problem solving. And you can't solve problems that aren't there.

When I was with stable men (and I can literally divide most of the men I've dated into two categories: stable and unstable), I was often restless. Like Carrie, I wondered if there wasn't something wrong, something we weren't seeing that would cause us to be incompatible in the end. In two of those stable relationships, I eventually left the men. One I even left for a bad boy, just like Hank's theory, and before I left, I had been fantasizing about another bad man. I just figured I wanted things to be romantic, and romance meant drama.

However, when I was in the relationships with the unstable dudes, I always felt horrid. I never knew what they were thinking, how they felt, or what was going to happen. Sometimes I didn't even know if the guy was going to come home that night. I took anti-anxiety meds at one point to be able to sleep and felt like killing myself a couple of times.

Last year, tired of my relationship cycles (bad man leads to rebound good man, which leads to boredom and another bad man), I decided to figure out what was going on. I felt crazy and terrified that I was going to be going through this pattern for the rest of my life (bad marriage leads to rebound good marriage, etc).

First, I went to a psychiatrist, who told me I had ADHD. I knew that wasn't right, as I exhibited only 15% or so of the signs, and no one had ever told me I had a problem with attention. Then, I went to a psychologist, who let me cry in her office twice a week. It was wonderful, but I didn't know where it was going. I wanted serious answers. As a last resort, I started seeing a neurologist, who got me into "neurofeedback" therapy, or training your brain.

Before starting, I took a long test, which included an IQ test and other measures of problem solving abilities and creativity. I discovered that I am part of a very small percentage of people who have highly developed problem solving skills--yeah, yeah, you may say, but bear with me. According to this doctor, one of the characteristics of these people is a tendency towards boredom--in every facet of life. They often switch majors (had three before deciding on history), careers (have never been able to decide), partners (nuff said), and location (Do you know anyone who went to five undergraduate schools? Really?) like clothes (which I also switch a lot). And they are so analytical that anxiety--read: over-thinking and over-worrying even when it's clearly not necessary, just to keep the brain busy--is a close friend. In fact, it often seems these people have a personality disorder, even though they don't (so there). The trick is getting the mind to focus and stay with one thing at a time until completion, even if it's something really boring, and to keep anxiety (the same anxiety that fuels a sudden "Switch!") at bay. That's where the therapy comes into play.

When I heard this, I started bawling. I had never had someone sum up my entire life history in 15 minutes. I hadn't even told him anything, just taken the test. After 30 sessions of playing games while hooked up to electrodes (it's not as strange as it sounds; believe me I was worried more than anyone), I started to notice some very minor changes. When I sat down to practice the piano, I didn't have five conversations going on in my mind. I could have just the one--about how I was playing the measures I was playing in that moment. It felt nice.

What does this have to do with relationships? Maybe nothing. Even before therapy, I always chose the stable men in the end. I was never okay with the hard-to-get guys for long, and I think if I were really a drama addict, I would have put up with more than I did. I almost seemed to push them away in an effort to save myself. But I'll never forget what the doctor told me in his office that first day after I took my test. When I recounted the history of my love life, he mentioned the importance of keeping a committed relationship interesting. He said, "If you start to get bored, tell your partner. Then, you can spice things up." It was so refreshing. For the first time in my life, I thought, "Maybe I really can have it both ways."

I think what he said holds true for everyone. Nobody's relationship is interesting all of the time. If it was, we would all be exhausted from the drama and unable to drive or type up a spreadsheet for work, much less be socially stable human beings. But a little spice never hurt anyone. In fact, spice is nice. Really nice. For the first time in my life, I feel like I have that combination (even though I complain to Hank that we bicker too much). Too perfect is boring. Too complicated is tiring. But right in the middle? That's a little slice of coupledom heaven.

I hope you'll be back. I will.