HOW I MET MY HUSBAND – Part One of a Really Long Two Part Post That Will Not Interest Anyone But Me (so you should skip it)

So I met my husband way back when (hello one year anniversary coming up) on match.com.

I love telling people that because they always want to point out to me how "great" they think that is, how they have a "friend" that did it, how sooo many people are "doing that now".

Tee hee.
Well THANKS! Thanks for validating me. Phew!
I was so stressed that I was a LOSER!!!!

Most people do mean it in a "so cool" way but there is oft an undercurrent of "Wow, so what, you were desperate, huh? Getting old, lonely, looking for love? Tick tock went the clock, eh?" followed by "So did your husband work for, like, a dot com? Tech nerd? Hard up?"

Noooo. Nooo. Not the case.
Here's the script on it.

I was cute. Personable. Friendly.
Not discriminating.

Now don't get me wrong, I don't mean "I had low self esteem and took anyone” not discriminating, I mean I was more "Oh that's so nice that you like me and while I don't really really respect you, who am I to think you aren’t good enough? Therefore, let's combine the conditioning of my Catholic upbringing i.e. turn the other cheek, sprinkle it with a little Love Story never saying you’re sorry, add a dash of good social etiquette and toss with a value system created with overarching maternal codependent guilt, and then pair the whole thing with a healthy sense of post therapy 80s everyone-should-be-accepted-for-‘Who-They-Are’ mentality, and sure, I guess we could date."

The fact is, I’m hard wired to be courteous. And by courteous I don’t mean polite, I mean 1 : marked by polished manners, gallantry, or ceremonial usage of a court 2 : marked by respect for and consideration of others.

So not only do I reservations about you, but I'm now going to be supremely interested in you because I believe in social courtesies.

Yeh. I’d be everyone’s favorite date. (Narcissist? Table for ONE!) I’d sit there, nodding and smiling, and listening to stories and thinking "My god, this guy’s a fucking idiot. Who works on 100% commission at 31? WHAT???? You have bad credit from a vacation with your ex? Huh?” but coming out of my mouth I'd be saying "Oh I can see how that could happen." Because, actually, I COULD see how it could happen. So he'd feel happy and understood, and I'd feel happy THAT I understood, and it would never occur to me to admit that "Just because I understand, doesn't mean I don't think you're an idiot."

PLUS I’d hear all these voices (and hey, not all internal voices either) saying “Oh so all you care about is money?” or "But is he a NICE guy, because that’s what really counts” and "No one's PERFECT Deborah" and I’d end up “Giving him a chaaaannnnnnce” because "you never know".

I’d lean forward, I murmer, I’d see his point of view. And if he was a nice enough guy, I'd just assume that my standards were too high. I’d convince myself that I had been mistaken. And then I’d be stuck. Dating someone with a Fatal Flaw that I sorta kinda doubted all along.

That was my dating MO. And, to a certain degree, some friendships. I’d meet a girl, and she’d be great in some super fantastic way but I’d hear an obvious warning bell. “Oh that’s just you being judgmental” I'd think. DANGER WILL ROBINSON And I’d ignore it. And eventually, could be years later, could be days later, the thing we’d end our relationship over would be…guesses anyone? Anyone paying attention? You got it.

One day, after many dark days, I woke up thinking “You know what? Fuck you. I'm not that stupid. I'm capable of being objective, of being discerning. If I think someone’s an asshole, they very well are. It's no coincidence that all the coworkers I've ever hated get laid off in the first round of downsizing. If I hated 'em, other people likely did to" So that’s it, I’m done. I'm done with giving chances, I’m done with turning the other cheek, I’m done seeing the other guys point of view. I don't care that you don't have money. I DO care that you are so stupid that you can't see that your boss is using you and that 100% commission is a bad idea unless you are actually talented. And what, you DIDN'T know you had to pay back a credit card? My issue is with your instincts and your choices. Dumbass.

If you grow up being told to “give everyone a chance” and “accept people for who they are” after a while, you end up with a coterie of narcissistic people that you don’t give a shit about, who don’t even KNOW you and you ask yourself “How Did I Get This Way?”

You've subvert your own instincts and intuition because you've thought something negative and that dogma doesn't allow for anyone to be wrong. The result: You attract and sustain relationships with people who engage in behaviors that OTHERS would reject them for.

Oh but I didn't mean Accept EVERYONE, I meant be OPEN to it.

Yeah, well no one taught me that. Apparently that critical piece of information is missing from the Free to Be Me and You handbook. Because their isn't a Chapter Titled "Some people ARE wrong sometimes and some people DO suck and It's Perfectly OK not to give them a chance."

As it turns out, and ah thank god for "Blink" because I don't need to waste a paragraph here explaining myself. I finally acknowledged that my judgment was sound. I started to agree with an old Dennis Prager theory that "No, it’s NOT intentions that matter, it’s actions." Instead of just handing over the benefit of the doubt, methinks I’m actually going to see if someone merits it.

"But didn't you think you deserved BETTER?" you're wondering. (Well you aren't actually. What you are really wondering is JUST HOW LONG IS THIS POST?)

Hell ya, I deserved the best.
And I DID insist on it.
I'd march right into a store, stalk directly to the sale rack and select the BEST of what was on clearance.
Do you want to find alligator cowboy boots they just put on sale?
But then that day I decided then that I was going to start shopping retail, Metaphorically.
I joined match.

"So rebound?" you’re thinking. “Anger?”
Good lord no.
Discriminating, actually.

Yep. I thought about the guys I had dated, the woman I had befriended, the absolute atrocities I put up with because "Hey, I wasn't perfect and who was I to judge" and I thought "But what would it be like set a standard of both traits and behaviors that I find acceptable and then hold to it?"

Ohhh, a novelty.
Setting the bar and making someone ELSE meet it.
So I did it.
...and I was RUTHLESS.
I stayed focused. I wasn’t going to talk myself into something, or somebody. I wasn’t going to peek at their cards and say “Oh yeah, I can be that. I can do that.” Oh, you need to give everyone a chance Well, no. Actually I don't. I'm not the UN or a social service agency. I'm not Catholic Charities. I simply decided that for once, I’d look at my checklist first vs filling someone else's.

It wasn't going on match that found me my husband. It was going through the experience of admitting that I had criteria, and actually acknowledging, to myself, that I didn't want the issues clouded.

Suffice to say, I dated the hubster, amongst other, till hubby said "I’m done with you dating other men". Although not IN LOVE yet, we both had the wherewithal to negotiate an agreement that if we fell in love, we'd marry, and if we didn't feel it, we'd end it in 3 months. I think my words were to the effect that I wasn't a lease car, you had to actually buy off the showroom floor. His were that he was an adult and was smart enough to snap up a good deal when he saw it.

Yes dearies, my husband thought I was a value buy.

And here we are today.
Super freaking happy.
And most of our choices are easy, because we had a similar value system and because we analyzed each other before even bothering to fall in love.

"Why's you get married" our table companion asked this summer.
In unity we replied "Taxes!"

What’s my POINT. Oh god, a whole blog for this one tiny fricking point.
Which is, really Part Two....of a Really Long Two Part Post That Will Not Interest Anyone But Me (so you should skip it)

Thinking Outloud

I went for a walk tonight and in no particular order had the following thoughts.

Q. What would happen if I put my ipod earbuds in right to left. Like, I put the R in my L ear and vice versa. Would it make THAT much of a difference? I grant you, if I'm listening to the Who (and I won;t be but I digress) and they want to get all stereophonic and come in one ear and out the other, does it matter which ear hears what at which time? Can my brain just as aptly process the sound is it's presented in the reverse ear?
A. No idea. Will google then ask brother T.

Q. If a crazy random mugger man ran up beside me and somehow pushed Ellie's stroller into the lake, and I ran down, pulled her back, would I know CPR?
A. No. I need to refresh myself. She's 18 months old. I've forgotten. Also, the hospital can't actually refuse to give me my child. Next time, if there is a next time, I'm not watching the stupid video the night I bring bring a baby home. Dumbasses.

Q. Who really drives bright red chevys anymore?
A. I saw a young Italian looking kid in what appears to be a newer version of what looked like an oldstyle circa 1985 Thundebird. Hmm. Really. And yes, I know Chevy didn't make Thunderbirds. It just looked like one. It may have in fact been an Impala. Or a Malibu. But it just seemed very Richard Gere American Gigolo.

Overheard

Husband wiping El after dinner:
"Calm down Ellie, we're not waterboarding . I'm just wiping your face"

While You Were Out

We were looking for a babysitter for Thursday. We had a few options,but none that fit quite right. On the one hand, I'm thrilled that of my two, one was going to Florida to teach at a Montessori school for a semester while the other was busy being inducted into the National Honor Society.

Good babysitters that.

But we were in a bind.

As a last resort, I called my mother. Tuesday. She's actually really really good with Ellie as is her husband. I just don't think of them because they aren't "those" kind of grandparents.

She's at work, we talk briefly. She says "Yes, but we'll confirm the details tonight." That night I head out for a knitting circle. The change over from me to Doug took some time. I intended to call her, but alas.

Soon after I got in that night, my husband says
"Oh your mother called"
"What did she say?" I asked.
"Oh we talked about the election. She voted no on taxes, no on pot and yes to get rid of dog racing"
"I mean, what did she say about Ellie?"
"Oh, she'll watch her. I told her you'd call her tomorrow."
"Was that it?" I said.
"Well, that was it about Ellie. But we talked for like 10 minutes. She was fine, she's so funny."

Great I thought. Perfect.

So the next morning I call her office. Into voicemail I leave a cheery breezy message. "Hey,it's me. I'm on my way to the church. This groups going until 11 then I have a pediatrician appointment until 12:30, then likely I'll be getting her down for a nap. Why don't i call you tonight? and hey, thanks again for watching her. We really couldn't go otherwise." etc etc. All casual and nonchalant. Thanks Mom!

That night (and bear with me, there's a reason for this long set up) in comes my husband.

"We all set for tomorrow
"I think so. I mean, I called her and left her a message."
"Good" he said, and left the room, taking his suit jacket off en route. "Cmon Ellie, lets go upstairs and do push-ups"

We get through pushups, dinner, a bum change and some playing before I finally said:
"Oh shoot" I need to call my mother."
It's 9:30 mind you. About 30 hours later from when she called.

"Hey Mom, it's me"
"Oh hi"
"What's up"
"Just laying down. I'm kind of tired"
"I'm sorry, I know you are beat with work. I feel so bad about having to ask you to sit..."
She interrupts "Really, it's no problem. We are looking forward to it"
a few more sentences then
"And I'm going to leave work early"
Now I feel like a shit.
"DON'T DO THAT" I said "My god, I don't want you to leave work just so Doug and I can go out. That's ridiculous"
"Oh it's FINE" she said "I told my boss that my father died. He doesn't know if I'm leaving for that reason or a different one. So it's not a big deal"

????
!!!!!
????????

"Your father died?" I asked.
"Yes. Didn't Doug tell you?"
"No. Oh my god. When?"
"Yesterday"

????
!!!!!
????????

NO. Oh my god no. No Ma. My husband did NOT tell me your father died. No, my husband told me about the election, your day at work, HIS day at work, the pushups he did, how he liked dinner, but no. NOPE. NO-PER. Uh uh. My husband did NOT in fact mention that your father died.

"UM. Honey? Sweetie? Can you come in here for a minute?"
"Sure. What's up"
"..Did my grandfather die yesterday?"

My poor husband. I have never EVER seen him so red. EVER.
Thank god my mother and I have a good sense of humor. I laughed so hard I sat on the floor coughing up 1/2 a lung. My mother told me she had tears running down her face.

"I forgot"

Yes, yes you DID!