A few more thoughts on love
Seven years ago, when I started this blog, I was single and newly in business for myself. I had lost my job and was scared. I hoped my writing would help me figure things out, and inspire at least a few other people to feel brave and try new things. As I chronicled my search for truth and beauty, I connected some dots and shared my struggles—about dating and dog companionship and learning to let go. About aging and van life and healing. About how to be silent and still.
These days, I’m thinking more—and writing more—about how to balance creativity and freedom with intimacy and commitment. Because in my younger days, I could get swallowed up in a relationship. I would over function to make sure the other guy (or gal) was happy and wouldn’t leave me. That’s been a hard habit to break!
But after some 15 years unmarried and intermittently attached, I think I’ve learned my lesson about the big stuff. Clinging to the new guy—or to the idea of any guy—only leads to heartache.
Then how do we co-exist? How do we share life with another human, especially one whose habits and routines are different than ours? Especially as we age.
The cliché says sharing is caring. But what I’m seeing is that sharing is DARING. And sharing can be WEARING. Especially on the little-but-big things that show up day-to-day.
Whether you’re married for decades or just getting to know a new mate, I bet you struggle with these things too.
Sleep is the new woke. Wiki says: Woke originally meant alertness to racial prejudice and discrimination. But now it’s synonymous with awake. Remember when type A people bragged about subsisting on little sleep. Now the more woke we are, the more we commit to getting our eight hours. Our brains depend on it. After 5,000 or so nights of sleeping solo, it can be really hard to hear someone else breathing while we want to be healing. My Mountain Mensch is a morning person. Even when he brings me coffee in bed, there are times I want to kill him. But then the caffeine kicks in and we get on with our day.
Diet is a moveable feast. When I first started visiting my Mountain Mensch, I brought all my own food. He ate packaged things! Preserved things! He too had been single for more than a decade, and with no one to cook with (or for), he could subsist on frozen pizza or cereal for dinner. I KNOW I KNOW, that’s perfectly fine. But it’s not the way I was raised. Or how I raised my kid. But instead of cancelling a perfectly loving partner because of what’s in his fridge, I brought my own food. When the time felt right, we collaborated. And yes, I had to loosen my grip. Why not treat love like a vacation. You know, when in Rome? Gain a few pounds. Shut up. Be grateful. You can eat healthy food when you get home.
Mr. Clean might not be the greatest housekeeper. People are complicated. When you find someone who is squeaky clean as a person—he’s honest, he follows through, he loved his mother and still talks to his hgh school debate partner (and I don’t mean on Facebook!)—then who cares if there’s dust on the blinds. Greta and I probably quadruple the amount of dog hair and clutter in his well-organized bachelor pad. And he never complains! I’m not actually a guest anymore. So I run laundry. Cook for us. Empty the dishwasher. Hell, I’ve even hired someone to do an occasional whole-house clean.
Only once in my life have I dated someone who was truly mean. He knew just how to get under my skin. Whenever I did something nice or accommodated his preferences he said LOVE ME in a high pitched voice. He thought I was only being generous as a quid pro quo to be loved in return. Part of me believed him.
But now I know what’s true and necessary. We can be alone and have the illusion of control. Or we can learn to share. And if the other guy is flexible and willing and able to open his heart—and his home—then maybe it’s time to lighten up. And also to help with the lift.
And yeah, maybe we will be loved in return. What could be wrong with that?
