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The rose is a flower of love. The world has acclaimed it for centuries. Pink roses are for love hopeful and expectant. White roses are for love dead or forsaken, but the red roses, ah the red roses are for love triumphant.
– Unknown
So this weekend is the anniversary of the Best Weekend Ever. We had reservations to go back to the Spanish restaurant tonight, but David is sick and I twisted my ankle pretty good, so I can’t wear heels, so we’re postponing until next weekend. Plus, David had to work today (boo – they don’t pay him enough to work as much as he does) and is exhausted, so it’s unfortunate, but it’s for the best.
But, he just came home with these,
which are gorgeous, and which I wasn’t even expecting, and a sweet card. We just put wine in the fridge for later, and we’ve got Sopranos and Barletts and plenty of movies to choose from, so we’re good to go. Who knows what we’ll do for dinner, though. It won’t be tapas, but it won’t matter, as long as the seat next to me on the couch is filled by my baby.
I have often heard people speak of true love, but for me, it was more of a sense of what was right, like the right amount of cinnamon, or the right amount of wine. And as far as other things I have heard, to say that I was his is not at all a phrase I find accurate, though I might say I was devoted to him, And I did not know if I would be with [him] when we were 12 and 15, or 54 and 57, but I knew that I should be.
– from A Still Small Voice, by John Reed
Yesterday was David’s 3oth birthday. I wanted to post something yesterday, but with all of the birthday activity, and being sick, I didn’t get a chance to. Today, I’m home sick from work, so I thought I’d take advantage of the free time and tell you a little something about him.
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A year ago, David and I sat on a bench at the Navy Memorial, trying to talk our way through the very complicated beginning of our relationship. It was a Friday after work, the day before his birthday; I had taken him to lunch earlier since I wasn’t expecting to be able to see him again until Monday. I had written him a letter telling him 10 things he didn’t know about me and baked him cookies, which I left on his desk before he got in to work. He loved both the letter and the cookies.
We were talking about how the beginning works, when everything’s so complicated. He was afraid of making a big change; I was afraid of never getting to be with him. We knew that this was a chance we had to take, or risk wondering about it for the rest of our lives, but the first step was very scary. Around and around we went, each of us fighting the other, trying to make our way to common ground.
Eventually, the talking stopped and we just looked at each other, searching each other’s eyes, wondering if we were thinking the same thing. I decided to risk it, and leaned in. He stopped me.
“Wait,” he said. “I want to tell you before I kiss you.”
“What?” I asked, hoping I was right about what was next.
“I love you,” he said.
I smiled with tears in my eyes. “I love you, too.” I said.
And that was that. We’ve been together ever since.
It hasn’t always been a walk in the park, obviously, but even when it was so hard a couple of months ago, there wasn’t anywhere else I wanted to be. David is my other half in so many ways; even after a year, he’s still the first person I want to tell things to, the first person I want to do anything with, the only person I can imagine waking up to every day and coming home to every night, the person who believes in me when I don’t believe in myself, the one who supports me and encourages me and helps me up when I stumble, the one who seems to understand me the way no one else can. His are the arms I want around me when the world feels like too much; his are the arms I burrow into each night as I fall asleep, knowing there isn’t a single place on earth I’d rather be.
I love the way, if I’m walking behind him, he absentmindedly reaches his hand back for me to take, because he wants me next to him. I love the way he comes up and kisses me out of the blue for no reason. I love that we casually say, “When we get married . . .” or “When we have kids . . .” like it’s a foregone conclusion, with no doubt that it will ever come to pass. I love that he takes such good care of the tomatoes, even though he won’t eat them. I love that he acts as my ears without either of us even realizing it. I love the way he brushes me off every morning when I tell him how handsome he looks (“You say that every day”) because I know he’s secretly pleased to hear it. I love the tilt of his head when he’s about to say something sweet to me, and the way he secretly touches my leg under the table when we’re out to dinner. I love that every time we drive somewhere more than an hour away, we have to be sure we find a Sheetz so that he can get a vanilla cappucino.
He’s so smart, and he makes me laugh every day. He makes me a better person in so many ways, and I know that I’m lucky to have found him. I hope I get to write one of these every year.
Marriage or cohabitation is often a shift from teenage grazing or cooking for one to establishing a family identity. It brings together two independent food choice systems to be coupled as one joint system.
– Amelia Lake
This title comes from an episode of Sex and the City where Carrie movies in with her boyfriend and laments the lack of personal space and time. She says she can’t engage in her secret single behavior anymore – you know, the stuff you did at home alone when you were single and living on your own. In Carrie’s case, her SSB was eating crackers and jelly; Miranda’s was deep conditioning her hands while watching infomercials; Charlotte’s was examining her pores for an hour every night before she went to bed; Samantha claimed to have no secret single behaviors.
I sure did, though, and not all of them I’m willing to share with you, but here’s a few I’ve come up with:
- eating macaroni and cheese from a box – David loves Velveeta Shells and Cheese, but I don’t think I’ve had Kraft Mac and Cheese since we started dating, mostly because I can eat a whole box in one sitting, and no one needs to see that!
- watching marathons of whatever cheesy show is on TLC on the weekends – my favorite is Say Yes to the Dress
- watching the E! red carpet coverage – all of it, from noon to 6 – for every major awards show (except the Grammys). Now I mostly just watch a half hour before hand and then the show itself
- buying Pillsbury raw cookie dough and eating it right out of the package
What about you?
Now the seats are all empty
Let the roadies take the stage
Pack it up and tear it down
They’re the first to come and the last to leave . . .
But when that last guitar’s been packed away
You know that I still want to play
So just make sure you got it all set to go
Before you come for my piano
– Jackson Browne, The Load Out
Last Wednesday night, my apartment looked like this:
(Sorry for the quality – these are from my phone because my camera was packed!)
At nine Thursday morning, movers showed up, packed up the truck, and hauled all my worldly possessions four blocks to the two-bedroom townhome-style apartment that David and I will share officially as of this Saturday! That’s the big news I alluded to in the last post, and it’s really exciting! We’ve been talking about moving in together literally as long as we’ve been together, and David’s lease is up this month, so we figured out a way to make it work, even though my lease wasn’t up til August.
I guess it might seem silly to hire movers to move four blocks, but we couldn’t move this past weekend because we had to be out of town, and they wouldn’t hold the apartment for us an extra week, so I had to move during the week. That meant no one could help – even David had to work – and I have some large furniture that I definitely couldn’t have moved on my own. Plus, with movers, it took one trip instead of the 10 or so it might have taken me on my own. It was totally worth it, and I’d be surprised if I ever move on my own again, it was that easy. If you need to move in the D.C. area, let me know and I’ll give you the name of the company I used – they were great!
We move David this weekend, and we should have plenty of help – Karen and my brother are coming up and we’ll have a couple of local friends to pitch in as well. David has less stuff than me, and less big stuff (except for his giant TV and his bed), and we plan to move batches of stuff over this week so hopefully it won’t take too long on Saturday.
The new place is both good and bad. A lot of what I don’t like is just the change from what I lived in for so long, and we all know I don’t do change well. Like, there’s no room for the salt and pepper on the back of the stove – which is just where it goes – in the new place because the microwave is much lower over the stove. And the apartment isn’t renovated, so the appliances are older and smaller than the ones I had and the microwave doesn’t have a turntable. Lucky for me, they make a thing called a Micro Go Round. And there’s not enough cabinet space in the kitchen. But is there ever in an apartment?
But I love that it’s two bedrooms, and we have ceiling fans in the bedrooms, and the guest bedroom has a big window seat, and parking is way better at the new place than it was at my old place, even though it’s in the same complex – we’ve never had any trouble parking, even late at night.
But the best part of it, of course, is that it’s ours. Mine and David’s. And this is just the beginning.
“I’m talking about France, my queen. Don’t you want to see the Eiffel Tower, stroll along the Champs Élysées?”
“Is it so much better than Detroit?”
– from Polish Wedding
This is it! This morning we’re headed for the Great White North. Yes, I know that’s really Canada, but you almost can’t get any closer to Canada without actually crossing the border, and have you seen the Detroit weather reports? David has been torturing me with thrice-daily weather updates for at least a week – he knows there’s nothing I hate more than to be cold, and it is hella cold up that way these days. I’ve packed every sweater I own and about 12 pairs of socks, plus boots, my big winter coat, a scarf (maybe I’ll take two!), and gloves. I’m still going to freeze, I just know it.
The purpose of our trip is to visit David’s family for the holidays. Of course, this is my first time meeting his mom, dad, step-mom, and brother, so I’m a little anxious. He assures me everything will be fine, and I believe him. I’m looking forward to meeting them, and his friends. One of our old co-workers is also from the area and will be there with his wife at the same time we are, so we hope to meet up with them, too.
This is the first Christmas I’ve ever spent away from my family. I’ve tried not to dwell on that fact, but I might be a little homesick that day. The Conductor’s birthday is on the 3rd, though, so I’ll get to see everyone pretty soon after Christmas anyway, which is good.
We’ll be back next Tuesday, probably, after a stopover in Central PA at my parents’ Monday night. Perhaps we’ll start back Sunday instead, depending on the weather forecast along our route. And, I might actually really get to Canada – David told me to bring my passport because “going through Canada on the way back only adds 30 minutes, plus Customs.” So we’re maybe going to have lunch in Niagra Falls. If we do, we should swing by my grandparents’ outside Buffalo, but that may be too much to do in one trip, we’ll see.
I’ve got Pico all set up with plenty of food and water, and my downstairs neighbors will be checking in on him. I hope he doesn’t go too crazy while I’m gone. The plants are watered, the trash is taken out, and the heat is turned down. I’m sure I’m forgetting something, but I don’t know what. It will probably come to me about the time we pick up the Pennsylvania Turnpike. Whatever it is, I hope they sell it in Michigan!
You might get one more post before my return, but I’m not making any promises. I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas, if you’re celebrating (and a happy early birthday to Karen, a Christmas Eve baby); may Santa bring you whatever your heart desires, and may there be peace on Earth, at least for a little while.
“We saw a couple I had met when they first hooked up together seventeen years ago. The woman . . . had always been thin, and tense, and exciting. But after sixteen years of marriage, [she] had gained a good thirty pounds. And she was radiantly happy. So I thought, Huh — maybe happiness sometimes weighs a bit more.”
– Lank, in Crooked Little Heart, by Anne Lamott
I’m spending the afternoon cooking, making soup and a casserole to portion out, take for lunches, and freeze for later. This is something I used to do regularly after I moved to DC, but I have gotten out of the habit. I don’t mind telling you that, like many of my other healthy habits, this one went out the window right around the time David and I got together. It should come as no surprise, then, that in the four months I’ve been with David, I’ve gained about 13 pounds. This is not acceptable, and I’m trying to figure out why I let it happen.
The receptionist at my WW meeting, when I remarked during a week I gained that I was on the “I’m in love diet,” said, “Oh, well, now that you’ve got him, you don’t have to keep trying,” or something to that effect. I just smiled and didn’t respond, but I was floored for two reasons. First, the implication that I was losing weight in the first place to attract a man, as if no one would find me attractive unless I were skinny, or as if I weren’t choosing to lose weight for myself. Second, the idea that once you “land” a partner, you can just let yourself go because he loves you no matter what. The “loves you no matter what part” may be true, but the idea that you can just stop taking care of yourself boggles the mind.
What I’m getting at with this is that, for me, the fact that I’ve found the person I want to be with for the rest of my life is not the reason I’ve stopped taking care of myself. Whatever David may think of me, I don’t feel good about myself when I don’t take care of myself the way I know I should and the way I did pretty consistently for the first two-plus years after I started WW.
Being with David has certainly changed my life quite a bit, and I don’t have the routine that I had when I was single, which I think is the hardest challenge of all. Going to the gym after work, especially in the beginning of our relationship, came second to coming home and making and eating dinner together. I’ve gotten better about this lately, and he will sometimes come with me to the gym, but I need to be doing a much better job. Part of my problem, though, is that I like to be where he is, so I often choose not to go (by reaching into my rather large bag of increasingly flimsy excuses) or to go for less time than I ordinarily might, in order to spend more time with him.
Of course, we also go out to eat quite a bit, where I almost never did before. I think I’m still in the mindset that eating out is special so I don’t have to be as strict with what I choose because it’s not a common occurrence . . . only it kind of is now, and I need to start looking at it the same way I look at my everyday meals.
I think I’ve said this before, but I think the central challenge in any relationship is not to lose yourself. I spent a long, long time single, learning who I am, where I’ve gone wrong in the past, and what I want out of life. I’m lucky that way, because it allowed me to recognize in David a partner, and I have approached this relationship from a position of really trying to learn from mistakes I made in prior relationships, and it’s so different than my past relationships because of that. But I think it also made me so lonely for companionship that I’ve been willing to compromise things that are important to me in order to be close to him. I should make it clear that the idea to compromise doesn’t come from him at all – I’ve talked to him about all of this, and he always says, “Tell me what I can do to help you,” and “Do what is best for you, and don’t worry about me.” It’s me, because I’ve apparently decided that, right now, building this relationship or being with him takes precedence over just about everything else.
Ever since I started WW, I’ve had a goal, and I’ve worked pretty steadily toward it. It’s not about a number; it’s about being as healthy as I can be while still living the life I want for myself (and recognizing what’s realistic about the life I want – I’m never going to be the girl who can just eat whatever she likes, no matter how much I wish that were true; I need to accept that and work around it, not pretend like it’s not true and hope for the best). I need to refocus and remember how I got as far as I have, and figure out how to bring a better balance into my life on these issues. Being with David makes me wildly happy, but there are other things that I need to be happy, too, and I have to devote as much time to those as I do to my relationship in order to get all of the things I want out of life.
And today is as good a day as any to start.
[He] stared as if he would never stop searching for my face, because he knew he would find something good there.
– from The Book of Ruth, by Jane Hamilton
Things David loves, in order (as told to me Tuesday night):
1. me
2. his big-screen TV
3. the Detroit Tigers
I believe if we pay attention, all of us occasionally bump into our own futures.
– from Expecting Adam, by Martha Beck
Twelve days, no posts. Bad blogger. Here’s what’s new:
1. I’m getting ready to head to Long Island on Thursday to be in a Saturday wedding of my closest friend from law school. I am really looking forward to it: my friend and her fiance (also a law school classmate) are perfect for each other and I am honored to stand up for them; many friends from school will be there as well; the dress is gorgeous (not that it matters – you wear what she tells you to wear and shut up about it – but it helps); and David’s coming with me. He was on the fence, 4 weeks ago when I had to RSVP a number, about whether he wanted to go, but one day on the way to work he handed me a letter. Among other things, it said he wanted to go with me so we could have our first dance. Have I mentioned that I adore him? I’m excited for our first road trip together, and I can’t wait to be at a fancy event with him all dressed up and looking handsome.
2. This weekend was my turn to plan a date weekend. I stressed and stressed over the restaurant for Friday. I’m not sure why – maybe because he’s not as adventurous an eater as I am, and so I kept finding restaurants I wanted to try but not seeing anything on the menu I thought he would like. Eventually I settled on J Gilbert’s, and it was lovely. The food was delicious (he had steak, as I knew he would) and the service was great, and it was a wonderful night. Saturday, I picked batting cages and mini-golf. I’m playing softball in a rec league this fall and I needed the batting practice, and I wanted to challenge David at putt putt. He kept assuring me there was no way I could win, but win I did, by one stroke. He kept claiming irregularities in the course (which, incidentally, was not very challenging; we’re going to try another place for a rematch), or that I cheated (which I did not, though I did get pretty lucky, including a hole-in-one), but in the end, the result stands.
Afterwards, we went and wandered around Wegman’s, which is the best grocery store ever, and bought some Spanish wine. Then we changed and went to dinner at Bilbo Baggins in Old Town, and despite good reviews online, was not very good at all. But I was really in it for the company, which was fantastic as always. We got ice cream cones for desert and wandered down by the waterfront, just talking, and then headed home. Yesterday was a little lazy in the morning, but then, since it was a beautiful day, we took a 9-mile bike ride into DC and back. Then we came back to my place and made dinner while watching the Emmy red carpet on E, football, the Emmys, more football, and the last game at Yankee Stadium. All in all, it was a great weekend. I’m always surprised at the way the weekend seems to last longer the more stuff I pack into it.
3. Back when I was in Boston, my roommate TequilaMary and I took the ferry to Salem.
Everything touristy was closed by the time we got there, so we just walked around and shopped mostly. But here are some neat photos of the things we saw. First, the windows at the Witch Museum:
Now, the garden of a mad genius:
He happened to have the largest sunflowers I’ve ever seen growing there as well (that’s TM’s hand, for scaling purposes):
Wandering down the main street, I came across this beautiful bench and, of course, had to take a picture (because it’s purple):
Finally, the pièce de résistance:
Yeah. That’s a liquor store called The Bunghole. So. Awesome.
4. It’s time to start looking for a new job. My current appointment ends early next September, which seems like a long time from now, but in this area, and in my field, it really isn’t that long, so I need to get on the ball. I never even updated my resume after I started this job, so I really am at square one. I hate this part, job hunting and interviewing. It’s like this is the time when everyone figures out what a fraud I am and I’ll never work again. I hate selling myself. Maybe I’ll just go be a tollbooth operator. How bad could that be?
5. New tv this week! As we speak, How I Met Your Mother is on, Heroes is on next, Grey’s Anatomy is Thursday, and over the next month or so, all my favorite shows come back! Yay!
“Real life hardly ever does it the way you want to tell it later.”
– Alice, in Range of Motion, by Elizabeth Berg
But sometimes it does.
Now I promise my blog is not going to become all “I’m in love” all the time, but you guys, I am, and I had the best weekend of my life this past weekend. We spent most of last weekend together, and many nights last week, just hanging out, running errands, and watching the Olympics, but it was very casual and low key, for various reasons. All of last week, though, he kept telling me how he was planning our first real date for Friday night and that I should dress up (which is code for “Wear the dress that started all of this”), and that he thought I would really love the restaurant he chose, and that he was going to come pick me up and come to the door and everything. He also told me about 10 times that he’d already picked out the shirt he was going to wear and that he thought I’d really like it, but that he wanted to buy new pants. It was so adorable. Saturday, he said, would be more casual, and he told me about the restaurant beforehand and let me pick a movie.
So Friday came and we rode the train home together, but each of us went to our own apartments to get ready. Around 8, he rang my doorbell, and I opened it shyly, and there he was, holding a single red rose (he’d brought me daisies last weekend) and looking so handsome in a white button down shirt with different colored blue stripes and new gray pants. I invited him in and gave him a kiss (or two or three, you know), and we just stood there grinning stupidly at each other (which happens a lot actually; we’re kind of dorks that way). He told me I looked great and we kissed some more and then we drove to the restaurant. As we got out of the car, he said, “We parked a little ways from the restaurant, and for good reason.” And as we walked out of the shadow of a building into the square, he pointed and said, “Full moon.”
As we walked to the restaurant, my heels kept getting stuck in the cobblestones (that’ll teach me), and he kept catching me so I wouldn’t fall. When we got to the restaurant, I didn’t look at the outside of it very closely because I thought I knew what it was, but it turned out I was wrong. When we got to our table and I looked at the menu, I realized he had chosen a Spanish restaurant . . . I can’t really explain the feeling I got, but I knew that he’d chosen it on purpose because he remembered that I had studied in Spain twice and loved it so much, and he wanted to take me to a place that would remind me of it. Have I mentioned that I love him?
He studied the wine list – he’s very into wine and I know nothing, though he’s trying to teach me – and ordered a bottle of Rioja. When the waiter brought the bottle, he did the whole, look at the bottle, nod approval at the waiter, swirl the wine in the glass, smell it, swish it around in his mouth, swallow it, and nod again for the waiter to pour our glasses – I kind of watched him and seeing him do all that made me smile so big. The wine was lovely, and we ordered lots of tapas and ate and talked and drank for what seemed like hours, but was really probably only and hour and a half or so. If I tell you the big thing he said to me over dinner, you’ll think we’re crazy, so I won’t (yet, probably), but that was definitely the best meal of my life.
Afterwards, we walked down to the waterfront. It was a perfect night: full moon, just the right temperature, breezy. We walked along the water, then stopped to watch the planes (or to kiss, but who’s keeping track, really?) and just talk some more. Finally, we headed back to the car, and just before we got there, we stopped to kiss, and the combination of my 4-inch heels on cobblestone, his big feet, the wine, and the sudden stop led to our feet getting tangled and his foot landed on mine and broke the toenail of my big toe pretty far down the nail bed. It hurt like crap, but we kissed anyway, and it was only after I got in the car that I realized I was bleeding. Yikes. He kept apologizing, but I told him not to worry because it’s going to be the funny part of the story of our otherwise perfect first date.
Saturday afternoon, I picked him up and we went to see Pineapple Express. It was the captioned movie last week, and I worried that he would think that was weird, but he says he doesn’t mind at all. The movie was so, so funny. I love Seth Rogen, and James Franco was as good as advertised. We laughed so much, though we don’t need a movie to do that. Then we went to Rustico for beer and pizza, though I had a burger. He had a double chocolate stout (which I didn’t hate), and I had a Hawaiian pale ale of some sort, which was pretty good. We talked about the inanity of the parents of three at a nearby table who’d brought a portable DVD player for the kids (all under 4) to watch while they ate dinner – why bring your kids out if you’re not interested in interacting with them? Get a baby-sitter, for crying out loud. Anyway, we talked about our families and discovered that Thanksgiving is our favorite holiday, and agreed that we don’t have to do Valentine’s Day.
Next, we drove to Gravelly Point, which is a park on the water near the airport. We sat and watched the planes take off, which put this song in my head, and held hands and talked – we can talk forever. Then we walked a ways down the path, quizzing each other on whether we’d leave each other for various outlandish infractions. The verdict: I have to stay with him if he just gets indicted for a felony, but I can leave him if he gets convicted. I can’t remember what he’s allowed to leave me for; prostitution, I think.
Then we came back to my place for chocolate milk (just one of many things that one of us has mentioned to which the other one has said, “I love ___,” eliciting a kiss from the first one – it’s eerie, really) for dessert, then some beer and Olympics watching.
Sunday, we had tentative plans to get a little bit out of town, but we were lazy lazy lazy in the morning, so I just cooked him breakfast – pancakes and bacon – and then dropped him off so he could do stuff around his house, and I did my own errands. Around 5, he picked me up and we went to the wine store and the grocery store, then to his place, where he cooked for me for the first time – a delicious chicken stir fry. He takes such good care of me. We sat on the balcony for a little while, drinking wine and enjoying the night, then came in to watch Mad Men. He indulges my furious girl crush on Christina Hendricks, who plays Joan – he says it means he can cheat on me with her even if she’s not on his List, because I couldn’t possibly blame him. I’m not sure he’s wrong. But when I turned the tables and said I can do the same with George Clooney then, because he LOVES George, he wasn’t so happy. I’d actually rather have Joan.
So there you go. That’s my idea of a perfect weekend. He did such a good job planning Friday and Saturday – Friday especially – and just being with him, doing the things we’d do anyway, but doing them together, is all I ever wanted.
But now I’ve got to plan a weekend for him. Good thing I have about a month til we have a free weekend all to ourselves again.
What People Are Saying