Yes, yes, Valentines day is a crappy Hallmark holiday. But I’m such a fan of love that I can’t resist acknowledging February 14 a wee bit. Plus it’s technically the anniversary of when Brend and I started “dating”, and by dating I mean the NZ equivalent, which isn’t really dating so much.
Plus, I really really love food.
It started with more than a few tears and ended with tea and cupcakes.
Somewhere in the middle the lovely Jason tried to make me feel better with a heart to heart and some tunes on the guitar and the lovely Kate helped me eat icing out of the bowl.
Love my peeps.
Love Instagram for the iPhone as well. Makes all of my shitty photos whimsical and hip with the touch of a button.
“We love your body. If we’re in love with you, we love your body. Your potbelly, everything. Even if you’re insecure about something, we love your body. You feel like you’re not this or that? We love your body. We embrace everything. Because it’s you.
Speaking of your body, you don’t understand the power of your own smell. Any woman who is currently with a man is with him partly because she loves the way he smells. And if we haven’t smelled you for a day or two and then we suddenly are within inches of you, we swoon. We get light-headed. It’s intoxicating. It’s heady.
We remember forever what you say about the bodies of other women. When you mention in passing that a certain woman is attractive — could be someone in the office, a woman on the street, a celebrity, any woman in the world, really — your comment goes into a steel box and it stays there forever. We will file the comment under “Women He Finds Attractive.” It’s not about whether or not we approve of the comment. It’s about learning what you think is sexy and how we might be able to convey it. It’s about keeping our man by knowing what he likes.
We also remember everything you say about our bodies, be it good or bad. Doesn’t matter if it’s a compliment. Could be just a comment. Those things you say are stored away in the steel box, and we remember these things verbatim. We remember what you were wearing and the street corner you were standing on when you said it.”
“Remember what we like. When I first started dating my husband, I had this weird fascination with the circus and clowns and old carnival things and sideshow freaks and all that. About a month after we started dating, he bought me this amazing black-and-white photo book on the circus in the 1930s, and I started sobbing. Which freaked him out. I thought, Oh, my God, I mentioned this three or four weeks ago and talked about it briefly, but he was really listening to me. And he actually went out and researched and found this thing for me. It was amazing.”
“About ogling: The men who look, they really look. It doesn’t insult us. It doesn’t faze us, really. It’s just — well, it’s a little infantile. Which is ironic, isn’t it? The men who constantly stare at our breasts are never the men we’re attracted to.
There are better words than beautiful. Radiant, for instance. It’s an underused word. It’s a very special word. “You are radiant.” Also, enchanting, smoldering, intoxicating, charming, fetching.
Marriage changes very little. The only things that will get a married man laid that won’t get a single man laid are adultery and whores. Intelligence and humor (and your smell) are what get you laid. That’s what got you laid when you were single. That’s what gets you laid when you’re married. Everything still works in marriage: especially intelligence and humor. Because the sexiest thing is to know you.”
Now that Lost is over forever it’s being talked about by everyone. Everyone seems to have an opinion, whether it’s that the show was great but confusing and the last episode was beautiful but unrevealing (me); or that Lost made no sense and was worthy of being discarded during season one (almost everyone else I talk to).
Chatting on Facebook the other night I realised that how and when you stopped watching Lost can be compared to how your relationships with real people play out. Me? I stick around till the bitter end and still get disappointed when things I hoped for still don’t happen after 6 years.
Here’s what some others had to say:
No wonder we’re all so fucking dysfunctional.
Congratulations Kate and Jason. May your marriage be fun and cute forever.
Let me tell you about how I met The Boy. It’s a true soap opera like story; a bunch of coincidences, naive optimism, and teenage lust lead us to where we are now, almost 8 years later.
It started like many stories of this nature do. Girl meets boy, they fall in love, he consistently acts like a douche and then goes overseas on holiday with his family. She retaliates by hooking up with someone else.
I was 16, and decided to head to Bowentown on New Years eve with a few people from the supermarket I worked at. One of the guys uncles was travelling with the gypsy fair and we planned to camp at their site.
As it happened The Boy was also travelling with the gypsy fair for the summer. His unusual name was a talking point, as always, and a few of the young ‘gypsies’ started to pal around with our group.
I don’t really remember the full events of the night, but I remember very vividly going to the portaloo and just as I finished the countdown to midnight started. I very graciously leapt out of the toilet and kissed him as the new year started.
That started a year of texting, and when his phone was lost, writing, and then eventually emails. We have a bag each of the letters we wrote each other. I lived in Ngaruawahia, he lived in Hastings about 6 hours away, and as school students who weren’t in a relationship – due to distance, and the fact we didn’t really know each other – we didn’t talk on the phone or visit. The only other time we saw each other was in April when he came for short visit.
During the year I was in and out of relationships with both douche and another boy from school.
I left school half way through the year and went to tech and near the end of the year douche decided to call it off via phone and I never saw him again. Instead of getting too upset I jumped online to talk to The Boy. He was moving to Wellington for uni in the new year and on a whim we decided to go together.
We had seen each other in person on a total of 4 separate days so I booked a bus ticket to Hastings to spend a week with The Boy to make sure we actually liked each other in real life. I met both of his parents and had a great time. A couple of days into the trip we had “the talk” and made it official. That was on December the 2nd 2002 – 7 years ago today.
I went home and prepared to move out. After xmas The Boy came to spend New Years with me and get my stuff. We filled up his car and moved everything to Hastings. And here’s where the story continues to be a soap opera…I got sick.
Well I’d actually been sick for a while. But I didn’t really realise it. In Hastings the symptoms go too bad to ignore and I was admitted to hospital, thankfully The Boy’s mum was willing to look after me.
We needed to find a flat in Wellington so The Boy caught a ride down with his dad and stayed with his sister spending a few days trudging the streets looking for a place while I was laid up in bed recovering. Once I was released I bused to Wellington with nothing but a bag of clothes and a blow up mattress until the rest of our sparse possessions arrived and we could buy some furniture.
And here we are 7 years later. Love you hun.
Unfortunately last night I couldn’t hold it in any longer and had to ask my partner of almost 6 years (living together the same amount of time) what we are doing.
It was hard, I told him maybe we should break up, even though that’s the last thing I want.
Thing is, even though I’m only 22 now (he’s 24) I’ve know for a few years that he’s the one I want to spend my life with. He, unfortunately, is not sure of the same.
He tells me he doesn’t want to break up with me but I don’t see how we can be together that long and he STILL doesn’t know if I’m the one. If he’s unsure, that to me says very clearly that I am not the one.
So what other option is there. Do I wait another 5 years, be miserable, continue auditioning for the role of little wife while not feeling good enough, and miss any opportunities to meet a man who will treat me like a queen and be so in love he won’t take no for an answer after his romantic proposal – all the while never knowing if after the next 5 years he will ever be sure that I’m the one?
Or do I make the break now, be completely devastated, move, divide our stuff, live with other people, but give myself a better chance at long term happiness?
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