doahleigh - Holy Waste of Teabags!

It’s been a week and a half since Brad moved out. The first week wasn’t very realistic though because Brad was in and out a few times to get what remained of his stuff. Plus Robin was gone all week, so roommate living hadn’t quite started. But I have been able to make a few observations about the new arrangement so far. Some good, some bad, some kind of strange.

Good
- I can buy what I want at the grocery store. I bought some new things on Sunday that Brad never wanted to try.
- I don’t have to coordinate meals with anyone. I swear we were never hungry at the same time.
- My milk lasts longer. In the past Brad would finish his Vitamin D gallon and then steal from my fat free milk before he got around to buying more.
- (Why are all the good things relating to food?)
- I yank and tug and twist the covers in bed to my exact comfort with no concern for anyone else!

Bad
- Computer problems need to be solved over the phone.
- It’s now a twenty minute drive to see my boyfriend. I don’t have that kind of time but on weekends.
- I now have the bathroom with the tiny stall shower and I HATE IT!
- There’s nobody around to kill insects and spiders.
- There’s nobody around to open the hard-to-open things. Though Robin did get a stubborn cap off for me last night, so next time we’ll see if that’s just a fluke.

Strange
- Apparently he makes his bed every morning now. He was always the last one up when we lived together, yet the bed never got made (which I actually prefer). But now… his is always made.
- I’m still not sleeping well. I thought with his loud breathing gone I might actually get some sound sleep. Not yet.
- I still walk around in my underwear a lot even though I have a roommate. Good thing Robin doesn’t care. (And yes, she does it too. I know I just turned you all on.)

Also, thanks to everyone for the nice things you said about this situation. It’s hard to admit something isn’t working right, but you all made me feel like we really did make the right decision. The words ‘logical’ and ‘mature’ and ‘sensible’ were thrown around too, so of course those didn’t hurt either.

My long weekend sure didn’t feel long, it just felt busy. Friday we went to Jackson (where B’s family lives), ate at my favorite pizza joint, visited my favorite ice cream place and saw some fireworks. Saturday we attended a summer backyard party with some friends and then headed home. On Sunday Brad moved out.

He packed up all his stuff and moved into a new apartment about 20 minutes away. This makes sense since my friend Robin moved in the previous weekend, and as spacious as the as our apartment is, there’s really not room for three people. One of us had to go.

Actually, this has been planned for awhile. A few months actually. It was back then that I sort of had an epiphany: maybe Brad isn’t my future husband. Maybe he is. But maybe he’s not. And what if I spend another year or two, on top of the three I’ve already spent, thinking that he is and dedicating myself to this relationship, and then he decides he doesn’t want to spend his life with me? We both know that marriage isn’t a real option until we’re done with school (or even longer, most likely), but I have long considered Brad my future husband. It was just about timing and getting things in order.

But it suddenly became apparent that maybe Brad wasn’t entirely on the same page. The realization came about because I presented Brad with this scenario and I asked him if he could decidedly say that I was who he wanted to be with forever. Did he know that I was the one? Was he ready to commit to that notion? Was he ready to start living life as a “we”? The answer was basically no.

Right now Brad is trying to finish school so he can find a good job and then start his life, and even though I think his personal goals can be folded into our mutual goals, he wants to focus on himself right now. He’s not ready to say for sure that this thing we’ve got going is a forever thing. He’s not ready yet to adjust his life in the ways required for us to one day, eventually, get married.

It’s not that I want to get married right now (I don’t at all), and I don’t even want to be engaged right now. That’s not it. Here’s the bottom line: there is a way you live your life when you are committed to the future of a relationship and there is a way you live your life when you’re just a girlfriend or boyfriend (and no this has nothing to do with sex in case you think ‘committed’ can only mean not having sex with other people). I want to start living our lives like the former, Brad is content living our lives like the latter. And that’s why there needed to be a change.

So here were the options: continue living with a guy who is not committed to the future of our relationship, or have him move out. I chose what I think is the lesser of two evils. I don’t like either option, but since he thought moving out was a good idea too, that’s what we decided would happen.

We’re still together though. The thing is, we love being together. He’s a really great person to be with, but I just can’t give it everything I have like I was before. I can’t be in a committed relationship with plans for the future if he’s not in it with me. But I don’t want to lose a great boyfriend just because he may not be my future husband. Brad is a good boyfriend, he’s just not a good life partner right now. And since I’m in no hurry to be married at this stage of life, I’m going to keep the good boyfriend around. He just won’t be around quite as much…

I don’t know if this is the right decision. Maybe I deserve better and I should ditch him now and start living the single life. Or maybe I can’t expect anything better and I should be lucky to have such a good guy even if he doesn’t want to commit to our relationship just yet. I really have no idea, so I’m just doing what feels right for right now, and we’ll see what the future brings.

One time Brad and I talked about which identifying marks we’d use if ever we had to identify each other at the morgue. Like if our faces had been eaten off and we had to rely on birthmarks or scars to recognize each other. I can’t remember what we decided for Brad (so hon, don’t die and get your face eaten off until we’ve talked about this again), but I do remember mine. It’s pretty obvious: my freckle patch.

Maybe you’ve noticed it in pictures before and wondered, what the hell is on her arm? I get that all the time. Especially after a long winter when I start wearing short sleeves again. Suddenly there’s this splotch on my arm that has been hidden for months, and everyone’s curious. You know that look you get when you’ve got something in your teeth? People try to look you in the eye, but they keep glancing down? They think they’re being subtle, but the eye shift is pretty obvious every time they sneak a peek at your mouth? Well that’s what I get, only they’re looking at my arm.

Here, you can see it in this picture:

Did you catch that? Here it is a little closer (ignore the fat rolls and chubby arm please, focus on the freckles):

There’s no explanation for the freckle patch, it’s just, well, a patch of freckles. I have random freckles scattered all over my body, as do all my sisters (thanks for that Dad), but it’s as if all the freckles on my right arm forgot to spread out. They were born, and then they were supposed to migrate, but nobody told them, so they stay there huddled together.

I’ve tried to count the freckles many times, and so have lots of other people – I think it’s somewhere around 30, but everyone comes up with something different. Depends if you count certain splotches as one or two, and if you count the really tiny ones that look like pin pricks. At first, most people think it’s a faded temporary tattoo. Others say it looks like henna. My dad thinks it’s funny to lick his thumb and pretend to try to wipe away the “dirt” on my arm. He does this nearly every time I see him and has been since I was little. It’s one of my favorite ongoing jokes.

I’ve tried to get certain other people to have the exact same splotch tattooed on the same place of their arm, kind of like a “friendship” tattoo, but so far nobody’s going for it. Brad said if we ever get married, he might consider it, which is really saying something since he’s sooo not a tattoo guy. It’s not as crazy as having my name tattooed across his shoulder blades (hello Mr. Mariah Carey), but I think it’d be a true sign of commitment. Because otherwise how do you explain why you tattooed a freckle patch on your arm?

Most people won’t ask me about it. They not-so-subtly check it out while talking to me, but don’t dare to inquire. I don’t say anything about it either, even though it’s obvious they’re looking, but if someone asks me, I’m always happy to talk about my freckle patch. I think it’s really cool and unique – it’s one of my favorite distinguishing marks. And it’s definitely a really good way to identify me if I ever end up faceless in a morgue.

(Except, what if my face and my right arm are eaten off? Then what? Then you look at the fourth toe on my right foot. But I’ll have to tell you about that one later…)

We had some severe weather around here over the weekend, and it reminded me just how differently Brad and I react to a stormy forecast.

My reaction to the news: Oh cool, I love storms.

Brad’s reaction: Cool? This could turn into tornados. Haven’t you seen all the news about the tornados around the country? You think it’s just going to be a little storm, but I’m worried about the roof blowing off our building!

My preparations for the storm: place a candle and some matches nearby, just in case.

Brad’s preparations: charge the flashlight, unplug the laptop, tune into the Weather Channel, pull up the local weather on the Blackberry, find a portable radio that will pick up local news in case the power goes out, close and lock all the windows, lock himself and provisions in the bathroom (okay not really).

My activities during the storm: write a paper, do a little light reading, get bored with the Weather Channel.

Brad’s activities: flip back and forth between the Weather Channel and the local news coverage, repeatedly check the weather on the Blackberry, wind the self-charing flashlight a couple more times, pace to the window regularly to watch the lightning, attempt to photograph the lightning, make sure the portable radio is working, advise girlfriend to get off the computer because surge protectors are not to be trusted, live-blog the storm from the Blackberry.

I love him for it though. I can’t join him in this kind of reaction to the weather, but I told him that someday his paranoia will probably save my life. I’ll be all, There’s cows flying through the air? I’m sure it’s fine, let’s order a pizza! And he’ll be shoving me into a basement with blankets and enough food and water to survive a week.

Also, the weather people on the local news announced that one of the stoplights in my small hometown was out. Wait no, I mean the stoplight in my small hometown was out. There’s one single stoplight there and the damn thing stopped working. I can only imagine the chaos. I bet there were multiple tractor/pick-up truck collisions at that intersection before they got it fixed.

Brad tells me I’m too negative. What he calls pessimism I call realism, which is my typical response to his usual reminder to think positive. Finally after more than three years of this, I decided to heed his advice and try to learn to be more positive. I didn’t know where else to start, so I checked out The Power of Positive Thinking from the library last week.

I started the book tonight, and after reading about two pages, which included things like “Believe in yourself!” and “Christ which strengtheneth me,” I turned to Brad and said, “I really don’t think I’m going to like this book.”

I’m not off to a very good start with this…

Brad reaches over and pinches my thigh. Then he pinches my belly. Then my upper arm.

S: Hey, why are you grabbing all my fat?
B: I’m not, I’m just pinching your appendages.
S: Oh great, my stomach has gotten so fat it’s now an appendage?

It’s so fun to catch them traps like that isn’t it?

I’m back from New York City! Yes it was incredible. My legs hurt and I’m totally exhausted, but we did everything on our list, so it was worth it. I’m working on a detailed post that nobody will give a crap about except me, but in the meantime there’s this…

Today is my and Brad’s annikissary!

Yes that is a lame made-up word for the anniversary of our first kiss. In honor of that, I direct you to the sappity sap sappy stuff we wrote last year at this time. It’s all about how we met and blah blah blah. It’s cute though, so go over there to laugh and say aaawwww until I can put up some details about my super-fabulous trip.

Part 1 of the looove story

Part 2 of the looove story

On Saturday while I was hanging out with my mom, I got a text from Brad.

“The DVD player is broken. I’m going to get a new one.”

By the time I got home he had hooked up the new one, and the old one was on the floor near the tv stand where it stayed for a couple days. I’m not really sure what the appropriate process is for discarding broken electronic equipment, but I figured it would eventually find its way to the trash.

Yesterday I saw Brad pick up the broken machine and carry it toward the bedroom.

“Where are you going with that honey?”

“In here.”

“In the bedroom? Why?”

“I don’t know…”

“Isn’t it broken?”

“Yeah, but just in case it starts working again someday.”

Um, okay. I suppose since I have no idea what’s wrong with it, I shouldn’t doubt that it might magically start working again one day. So I just shrugged my shoulders.

And now the tv on my dresser is sharing its space with a broken DVD player.

Hmm… maybe it’s not really broken, and he just wants to use it to watch porn. I just thought of that. Hon, is there something you need to tell me?

Holy crap, it’s been another year. Three now that Brad and I have been together, fought together, loved together, laughed together. Actually it feels like more…it’s only been three years? Surely with all the experiences we’ve had, it must be more.

But no, it was three years ago today that we went our first date which we didn’t know was a date until later. (If you’re interested, you can read all about the beginning here, here and here.)

Tonight we’re doing what we always do on our anniversary: dinner and a movie. Not because we’re totally unoriginal, but because that’s what we did on that first night. Which I guess kind of means we are unoriginal… But whatever, doesn’t matter, it’s just what we do.

Love you hon.

Kelly asked what I did for Brad’s birthday in response to the awesome gift he made me for mine. I think she said something like “You owe him something good,” which ya know, no pressure or anything. Well I’d say I did pretty good. A long time ago I started a project for him, and then I forgot about it for a couple years. A few months ago I finally pulled it out again, and on his birthday he got this:  

It’s a homemade Batman quilt! Now come on, that’s pretty frickin’ awesome. I also bought him dinner and took him to Coldstone for ice cream. But since the quilt was a long-time in the making, and his birthday was just an excuse to finally finish and give it to him, his real present was this:

On Friday night we went to Detroit for the Pistons game. Remember when he got me the jersey to wear for the occasion? I was yards away from Rasheed Wallace and I still don’t think he even noticed me. Jerk.

We had fun though. Happy birthday again babe.

Somebody’s got a birthday today. Who, oh who could it be? It’s Brad!

That’s him telling me a story just before enjoying the heaping strawberry shortcake we shared when his dad and stepmom took us out for a birthday dinner on Saturday.

The dessert was delicious. And so is the man.

Happy 28th Birthday Darlin’!

I stole this from Anisa. Brad is such a good sport about the way I write about him here, so I thought this might be fun. For me. Probably not you. Well, maybe. Sure it will!

1. Who is your man?
Brad
2. How long have you been together?
We’ve been dating since April 8, 2005. Almost three years.
3. How long did you date?
Oops, I guess this is only for married people. I’m doing it anyway.
4. How old is your man?
He’ll be 28 next month.
5. Who eats more?
I guess Brad does, though he is not at all like many guys who will eat anything, anywhere, anytime.
6. Who said “I love you” first?
Brad
7. Who is taller?
Brad by more than a foot. I’m 5′5″ if I stand up straight. He’s 6′6″. Yes my neck hurts.
8. Who sings better?
Definitely Brad. I’m a joke, and he’s pretty good. Also, he’s a huge hit when we go to karaoke. Yes I have videos.
9. Who is smarter?
Me! Well okay fine, we’re equally smart in different ways. I’m more studious and love learning just about anything. He’s extremely knowledgeable and intelligent about things that blow my mind.
10. Whose temper is worse?
Brad says I have a demon that comes out when I’m mad. I often hear him say, “Okay put the demon away honey.” I have the worse temper, but I can let go quickly. He holds onto things a lot longer.
11. Who does the laundry?
He does his, I do mine. A ghost does the sheets and towels.
12. Who takes out the garbage?
Brad and the ghost.
13. Who sleeps on the right side of the bed?
If this means the right side when we’re laying on our backs, then it’s Brad.
14. Who pays the bills?
I pay mine, he pays his. And suprisingly he pays the mutual bills. It seems like a job that would fall to me, but somehow it fell to him. I admit I’m glad that all I have to do each month is write him a check and not worry about due dates and papers and online accounts.
15. Who is better with the computer?
Brad by far. It’s funny because in my family, I’m pretty advanced with the computer. Then I met Brad and realized I know nothing.
16. Who mows the lawn?
The maintenance guy. Or wait, maybe they contract with an outside company. I don’t know, it’s been winter so long I don’t even remember what grass looks like.
17. Who cooks dinner?
When we do manage to cook, he’s usually the “head chef” and I’m his assistant. Occasionally I’ll try something easy on my own.
18. Who drives when you are together?
If we take his Jeep, he drives. If we take my car, I drive. Unless I don’t feel like it, then I ask him to.
19. Who pays when you go out?
We split everything right down the middle. If he uses his card to pay, I give him cash for half. If I pay, he does the same.
20. Who is most stubborn?
Oh if only you could see us. We are two of the most stubborn people I know. I honestly don’t know how we stand each other sometimes.
21. Who is the first to admit when they are wrong?
If I’m wrong, I’ll admit it. If Brad’s wrong, he tries to blame it on me anyway (right honey?). If neither of us thinks we’re wrong, we’ll argue in circles for days until we pass out.
22. Whose parents do you see the most?
Mine since we moved to GR.
23. Who kissed who first?
Brad kissed me first. Sometimes I like to make him reenact it.
24. Who asked who out?
Originally Brad asked me to hang out, but I had to turn him down because I had a boyfriend and thought that might be difficult. Later when I didn’t have a boyfriend, I reminded him about how he asked me to hang out that one time, and was he still up for it. So it’s a tie sort of.
25. Who proposed?
Brad. (kidding… ha! Did I trick anyone?)
26. Who is more sensitive?
I gotta go with Brad for this one.
27. Who has more friends?
Um, neither. I guess?
28. Who has more siblings?
I have one brother, three sisters, one half-brother, one half-sister. So six.
Brad has one half-brother, one step-brother, one half-sister, one step-sister. So four. Yay I win something!

In April, Brad and I are going to a Pistons game and spending the night in Detroit to celebrate his birthday. And maybe a little bit to celebrate the fact that we’ll have been together three years then. The other night I thought to myself, “Damn, I don’t have any Pistons garb to wear to the game. I’m going to look so ordinary, I wish I at least had a t-shirt or something.” I didn’t say that out loud, just thought it to myself.

Yesterday was Valentine’s Day, a day which Brad and I usually acknowledge with little flair. Maybe a cute note or flirty text messages. So when I got home from work, I was completely surprised to see this draped across the back of the couch, waiting for me:

Obviously I tried it on immediately. Not only did he surprise me with a gift, but he read my mind! How did he do that? Plus, he got me number 36 because, listen to this, you’re gonna die: 36 is the jersey number of Rasheed Wallace who I happen to have a little crush on, AND 36 is the number of months we’ll have been together when we go to the game. Yeah, I didn’t even think of that. Brad did.

I’m not even a big Pistons fan, since I’m not a big sports fan at all. But having this jersey to wear next month makes me very happy. And once again, Brad kicked my ass in gift-giving. My Valentine’s gift to him?

A cheesy LOVE garland from the dollar spot at Target that I tied around his computer chair for him to find in the morning. I suck at love.

To finish up a suprisingly eventful Valentine’s day, we went to dinner with Robin and pretended to be a polygamist trio out for a Valentine’s day date. It was hot.

S: Wow what are you those?
B: Labels.
S: I didn’t know you could color-code the labels in gmail.
B: Yeah.
S: Honey, you’re always teaching me cool new things.
B: …
S: Do I ever teach you new things?
B: You teach me new levels of annoyance.

His wit. It’s astounding isn’t it? After I gave him faux puppy dog face, he did tell me that of course I teach him lots of new things all the time, so I guess he’s not all bad. That’s all I can come up with today. Have a great weekend!

Okay so the bed solution isn’t working out so great. I slept on the couch last night.

There were a few elements leading up to the move from bed to couch though, none of which seem directly related to the new feathers:

1. Heat. It was warmer than normal last night and with the down comforter, full-coverage pajamas and space heater, I was downright toasty. But I didn’t realize this was part of the problem until I moved.
2. Breathing. Brad is a loud breather when he sleeps. He doesn’t usually snore, he just… breathes loud. And rhythmically. It’s like Chinese water torture when I’m trying to fall asleep—I go insane from the rhythm of the breathing.
3. Jon & Kate. I watched Jon & Kate Plus 8 just before going to bed, and for some reason they invaded my thoughts. I couldn’t turn my brain off from thinking the stupidest things. Like which of their girls’ names did I like best? Which of the boys names? What names would I choose if I had sextuplets? Would I dress them alike? Would I even have time to dress them at all?

After a couple hours of tossing and turning, I gave up and went to the couch where, oddly, I slept great through the night. But now I can’t figure out what the problem is. It could be that even with the featherbed, our mattress is just too hard. Or it could be that the featherbed is making things worse. Or maybe it’s been my beyond perfect pillow all along. Maybe it’s just my body, or maybe it’s mental. Maybe there’s no solution, and this is my life forever.

It’s only been two nights with the featherbed though, so I’m not giving up yet. And if all else fails, I’ll just move the couch into the bedroom.