Friday, November 26, 2004
Relationships 101
Ever notice how early on in a relationship people make wild accommodations for each other? They don’t even notice their new love is partial to neon green ties, or chartreuse socks.
It’s the old ‘love is blind’ thing.
With the romantic soundtrack still running in the background you don’t notice your beloved snores. That they insist on using blueberry Chap Stick seems such a small thing. Insignificant. Really. But can you kiss someone who uses blueberry Chap Stick for the next 50 years? How about Blistex? Juicy Fruit gum?
What can you realistically endure for the next 50 years. Or even say, 20 years? How about more than two, about how long the honeymoon phase usually lasts?
Why is it one partner in any relationship is perpetually colder than the other? One steps into a room and turns the thermostat up. The other peels off every layer of clothing possible stopping short of nakedness in front of the kids.
Electric blankets come with dual controls, so this is a pretty widespread phenomenon. Luxury cars with heated driver and front passenger seats have separate controllers too. I’m not so sure I want a personal heating zone in my car. Do I really want a hot ass when I’m negotiating traffic?
Someone should study this; it’s probably an underlying cause of road rage. Road rage is vehicular domestic violence gone public. Since it’s aimed at random unknown people no one has identified it stems from the same source.
Sorry about the digression. It happens. Even to singletons. This does not qualify as a dissociative moment.
So, people with denominational differences concerning the correct temperature of anything, foods, wine, beer, kitchen color schemes, acceptable breeds of dogs or cats, whether or not kids are a good or bad life choice manage to hook up oblivious to their differences. This is why relationships require such work.
You can tell when people stop working on their relationships. They say things like “We won’t even say the word divorce.” They don’t either until one of them just can’t accommodate the other one more time.
The weirdest thing about accommodation is when partners switch camps. Say the cold one hits menopause and suddenly they’re the one constantly turning down the thermostat. You would think this might resolve a lifelong difference. Finally this one couple will achieve what no other couple has ever managed: Unified Temperature Requirements.
But no. Think again. If this occurs the other person in the relationship starts donning sweaters in July.
Solve this conundrum and you understand the nature of humanity Grasshoppa. Or at the very lease you’ll make millions of dollars writing self-motivational materials.
Either way your name will be revered.
Eyvonne and I left home merrily seeking paint for our living room a few years back. We’d already agreed to choose a green. el loves green.
As we stood in Lowe’s faced with three thousand paint chips, Eyvonne said. “Maybe we should consider something warmer.”
We hate this Lowe’s and most other stores in the known universe because of florescent lighting. There is a little known equation here: shopping makes Qs crazy because florescent lighting make us all extremely edgy. It was one of the reasons we hated school. It gets progressively worst the longer we’re exposed to it. For some reason in this particular store we reach a 10 on the edgy scale as soon as we enter. Owl, our in-resident maintenance consultant, believes the subtle noise the ballasts make affects us.
I began to sweat.
“Warmer color?” I squeaked.
Eyvonne had fifteen color samples splayed out like a hand of cards. None of them was green.
“Peach is warmer,” she said speculatively.
Peach is not green, el mindtouched me with just a hint of warning.
“Peach is not green,” I repeated to Eyvonne.
“But greens are cold, almost as cold as blues. We want a nice warm feel to the room don’t we?” she said.
The woodstove that heats our entire house is in the living room. I didn’t think warm was an issue. Neither did el. Lemme have ops, he mindtouched.
I let him up. It might avoid a confrontation in the paint chip aisle. I’d just had one with Eyvonne in Wal-Mart, another Q store from hell. I’d just been trying to make a point. Eyvonne suddenly whipped around and stood on her tiptoes shaking her finger in my face. Did ever I mention she’s not very tall? We tease her all the time about being one of the Little People. They’re kind of like a Native version of Leprechauns. Thunder and I know a whole Micmac song about Little People. But I wasn’t about to start singing it in Wal-Mart.
“Sometimes you’re such a man,” Eyvonne shrieked, much to the amusement of other shoppers.
It wasn’t our best moment.
I shrugged sheepishly. Most of whom were cracking up. I could see why. From their perspective we were a pair of lesbians having a tiff. We wondered what they’d think of the truth. We wonder that a lot. Mostly it takes too much energy to explain. Explaining to shoppers in the housewares aisle didn’t seem worth the energy investment. I waved and followed doggedly after Eyvonne.
So back to Lowe’s. Here was el, Mr. Calm and Relaxed himself taking up the challenge of shopping with Eyvonne. Surely once his sweetie understood he needed the room to be green all would be well.
We went home with two gallons of specially tinted $30 a gallon peach paint. Which by the way looks pink on the walls. el was pretty green-looking as he shelled out the money to pay for it. Maybe that helped.
We haven’t met a Q yet who likes pink. Most of us actively hate it, including Lillie, which was why our daughter never wore pink baby clothes. With her short blonde fuzz people always commented “Isn’t he cute!”Maybe that’s why she doesn’t like us now, because we didn’t dress her properly in infancy.
Infancy is without a doubt when most of these preference tracks get laid down. I know with absolute certainty we hate pink because pink was for girls and being a girl hurt. Blue was for boys and boys didn’t get hurt. At least not as frequently as girls. That’s probably why there are four times as many male Qs as female.
Anyway it was also in our infancy we grew to hate being cold. Being confined to a small enclosed space in a cold, damp basement will do that to you. Thus we were the thermostat turner-upper in our relationship with Eyvonne. I say that symbolically as we have no thermostat. We have a wood stove. If it isn’t warm ten feet from the stove add wood. Once you throw a few extra logs on a fire it can take hours for it to cool down again.
Our internal thermostat reset in mid life. They say the cells in your body are completely renewed in a seven-year cycle. Maybe that’s what jumpstarted our warm button. Or maybe it was due to having Ian come into the system. He’s always warmer than the rest of us.
Within weeks of our finally being able to tolerate cool temperatures Eyvonne became cold all the time. Now she blasts the heater in the car and we shed our coat.
It makes me a little cranky. We spent years shivering and now it’s so hot we can’t breath half the time. But at least we’re still accommodating each other.
You can tell when a relationship is nearing its end because people stop accommodating. Behaviors and quirks once adored or at least tolerated become annoying. People fixate on things like how their partner chews. The toilet seat up/down syndrome reaches new heights. They no longer scratch each other’s backs or rub lotion on tired feet.
They become progressively more self-centered and irresponsible. They blast the heat and don’t care that their partner is down to skivvies.
Like the participants in the electric shock experiment they no longer care how much pain they inflict. Guilt prompts apologies but unless they decide to work on their issues taking stock and making real changes or are lucky enough to ‘fall in love’ again they’re approaching end game.
© 2004 M. S. Eliot
It’s the old ‘love is blind’ thing.
With the romantic soundtrack still running in the background you don’t notice your beloved snores. That they insist on using blueberry Chap Stick seems such a small thing. Insignificant. Really. But can you kiss someone who uses blueberry Chap Stick for the next 50 years? How about Blistex? Juicy Fruit gum?
What can you realistically endure for the next 50 years. Or even say, 20 years? How about more than two, about how long the honeymoon phase usually lasts?
Why is it one partner in any relationship is perpetually colder than the other? One steps into a room and turns the thermostat up. The other peels off every layer of clothing possible stopping short of nakedness in front of the kids.
Electric blankets come with dual controls, so this is a pretty widespread phenomenon. Luxury cars with heated driver and front passenger seats have separate controllers too. I’m not so sure I want a personal heating zone in my car. Do I really want a hot ass when I’m negotiating traffic?
Someone should study this; it’s probably an underlying cause of road rage. Road rage is vehicular domestic violence gone public. Since it’s aimed at random unknown people no one has identified it stems from the same source.
Sorry about the digression. It happens. Even to singletons. This does not qualify as a dissociative moment.
So, people with denominational differences concerning the correct temperature of anything, foods, wine, beer, kitchen color schemes, acceptable breeds of dogs or cats, whether or not kids are a good or bad life choice manage to hook up oblivious to their differences. This is why relationships require such work.
You can tell when people stop working on their relationships. They say things like “We won’t even say the word divorce.” They don’t either until one of them just can’t accommodate the other one more time.
The weirdest thing about accommodation is when partners switch camps. Say the cold one hits menopause and suddenly they’re the one constantly turning down the thermostat. You would think this might resolve a lifelong difference. Finally this one couple will achieve what no other couple has ever managed: Unified Temperature Requirements.
But no. Think again. If this occurs the other person in the relationship starts donning sweaters in July.
Solve this conundrum and you understand the nature of humanity Grasshoppa. Or at the very lease you’ll make millions of dollars writing self-motivational materials.
Either way your name will be revered.
Eyvonne and I left home merrily seeking paint for our living room a few years back. We’d already agreed to choose a green. el loves green.
As we stood in Lowe’s faced with three thousand paint chips, Eyvonne said. “Maybe we should consider something warmer.”
We hate this Lowe’s and most other stores in the known universe because of florescent lighting. There is a little known equation here: shopping makes Qs crazy because florescent lighting make us all extremely edgy. It was one of the reasons we hated school. It gets progressively worst the longer we’re exposed to it. For some reason in this particular store we reach a 10 on the edgy scale as soon as we enter. Owl, our in-resident maintenance consultant, believes the subtle noise the ballasts make affects us.
I began to sweat.
“Warmer color?” I squeaked.
Eyvonne had fifteen color samples splayed out like a hand of cards. None of them was green.
“Peach is warmer,” she said speculatively.
Peach is not green, el mindtouched me with just a hint of warning.
“Peach is not green,” I repeated to Eyvonne.
“But greens are cold, almost as cold as blues. We want a nice warm feel to the room don’t we?” she said.
The woodstove that heats our entire house is in the living room. I didn’t think warm was an issue. Neither did el. Lemme have ops, he mindtouched.
I let him up. It might avoid a confrontation in the paint chip aisle. I’d just had one with Eyvonne in Wal-Mart, another Q store from hell. I’d just been trying to make a point. Eyvonne suddenly whipped around and stood on her tiptoes shaking her finger in my face. Did ever I mention she’s not very tall? We tease her all the time about being one of the Little People. They’re kind of like a Native version of Leprechauns. Thunder and I know a whole Micmac song about Little People. But I wasn’t about to start singing it in Wal-Mart.
“Sometimes you’re such a man,” Eyvonne shrieked, much to the amusement of other shoppers.
It wasn’t our best moment.
I shrugged sheepishly. Most of whom were cracking up. I could see why. From their perspective we were a pair of lesbians having a tiff. We wondered what they’d think of the truth. We wonder that a lot. Mostly it takes too much energy to explain. Explaining to shoppers in the housewares aisle didn’t seem worth the energy investment. I waved and followed doggedly after Eyvonne.
So back to Lowe’s. Here was el, Mr. Calm and Relaxed himself taking up the challenge of shopping with Eyvonne. Surely once his sweetie understood he needed the room to be green all would be well.
We went home with two gallons of specially tinted $30 a gallon peach paint. Which by the way looks pink on the walls. el was pretty green-looking as he shelled out the money to pay for it. Maybe that helped.
We haven’t met a Q yet who likes pink. Most of us actively hate it, including Lillie, which was why our daughter never wore pink baby clothes. With her short blonde fuzz people always commented “Isn’t he cute!”Maybe that’s why she doesn’t like us now, because we didn’t dress her properly in infancy.
Infancy is without a doubt when most of these preference tracks get laid down. I know with absolute certainty we hate pink because pink was for girls and being a girl hurt. Blue was for boys and boys didn’t get hurt. At least not as frequently as girls. That’s probably why there are four times as many male Qs as female.
Anyway it was also in our infancy we grew to hate being cold. Being confined to a small enclosed space in a cold, damp basement will do that to you. Thus we were the thermostat turner-upper in our relationship with Eyvonne. I say that symbolically as we have no thermostat. We have a wood stove. If it isn’t warm ten feet from the stove add wood. Once you throw a few extra logs on a fire it can take hours for it to cool down again.
Our internal thermostat reset in mid life. They say the cells in your body are completely renewed in a seven-year cycle. Maybe that’s what jumpstarted our warm button. Or maybe it was due to having Ian come into the system. He’s always warmer than the rest of us.
Within weeks of our finally being able to tolerate cool temperatures Eyvonne became cold all the time. Now she blasts the heater in the car and we shed our coat.
It makes me a little cranky. We spent years shivering and now it’s so hot we can’t breath half the time. But at least we’re still accommodating each other.
You can tell when a relationship is nearing its end because people stop accommodating. Behaviors and quirks once adored or at least tolerated become annoying. People fixate on things like how their partner chews. The toilet seat up/down syndrome reaches new heights. They no longer scratch each other’s backs or rub lotion on tired feet.
They become progressively more self-centered and irresponsible. They blast the heat and don’t care that their partner is down to skivvies.
Like the participants in the electric shock experiment they no longer care how much pain they inflict. Guilt prompts apologies but unless they decide to work on their issues taking stock and making real changes or are lucky enough to ‘fall in love’ again they’re approaching end game.
© 2004 M. S. Eliot
