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| Boxing Gloves (courtesy xedos4) |
Things had been going well between Frog Prince and me. When things go well, it’s, as some might say, nothing to write home about. So, I haven’t been blogging. Who wants to read about all hearts and flowers? Boring!!
I’m blogging now because things have just gotten interesting.
FP and I were in what people call the ‘honeymoon’ phase of our new relationship. We got along well, were really into each other and the hormones kicked in. Perfectly natural. But, this is not to say that I have been ignoring my gut when noticing things that may indicate FP’s suitability as a good match. And, I have discovered a few things. We do ourselves a favor by not having blinders on when entering into a new relationship. When a red flag comes up, pay attention to it!
I have a saying I like to use often: We all have baggage; it’s all in how you carry it. Everyone has personality defects and idiosyncrasies; it’s a matter of how they match up – or not – with a potential partner. I am in constant observation of FP’s idiosyncrasies and personality defects as well as attempting to understand what his emotional capacity is in terms of previous relationships (aka, baggage). Up until the last few weeks, I’ve found no flaws. To be honest, I was somewhat relived to find that FP wasn’t perfect. This was a way to know that I wasn’t dreaming or blinded by emotions.
My desire to be with FP practically overrode everything else in my life. We had been seeing each other nearly every day. My stress at having to scramble to find work and his stress at having to care for his dying mother conspired to draw us both together, desperately grasping at each other in an attempt to confirm that there was something in this world other than our own troubles. I felt like a drowning person, holding on for dear life.
FP had been absolutely wonderful to me. He’s been great with the dogs, takes me out to dinner and does a lot of little things that show me he cares. He is very communicative about the state of our relationship, quite the opposite of most men. FP is also a great story-teller. He can weave a trip to the dentist into an entertaining story, full of adventure. He is an observer of people, and absorbs information about someone that most people would just forget. Mannerisms, accents, facial expressions – he gets a kick out of playing the weaving and bobbing movements of Captain Jack Sparrow in public, just to see me react. He can read my face in an instant, detecting the slightest mood change.
Early on, he expressed his concern about my safety, being a single woman in a small town. He would ensure that I kept my deadbolts locked, etc. Knowing I have two big black dogs that, despite looking big and scary, would rather greet an intruder than bite him or her, he offered me one of his pistols to keep at home just for protection. I had been raised in a family of police officers (father, uncle and grandfather and almost became one myself) and know my way around just about any firearm, but initially, I balked at this. It took a bit of cajoling on his part to get me to accept his assistance.
He would call before coming over to see if there was anything he could pick up at the store for me. He would often show up with a bag of goodies – wine, bottled water, rice (we both go through a lot of rice, and I cook it often for us), etc. He went over my yard with weed killer over a few weeks, because I got hit with a nasty case of poison oak rash. He would take out my trash. On the surface, this was wonderful, and I really appreciated it. But, over time, I began to feel resentful.
Even as I desired to be with FP, I became short of temper. His visits were tolerated; his stories became tedious and I would tell him to get to the point. He would ask me what I thought of this or that, and I would snap out an impatient – and often negative – answer. I became argumentative and contrary – it seemed to him that he could not say anything or do anything to make me happy. And, he was right. When he left after his visits, I would feel sullen and angry. I’m sure he felt confused as all hell.
One evening, we were sitting on the sofa, and after I had bitten his head off for an innocent question, he came right out and said, “I don’t like what’s happened recently and I don’t like the direction that this relationship is going. If you want out, just say so.”
{Insert sound effect of vinyl record being badly scratched}
Oh, my God! I thought to myself. What am I doing? I’m watching this man get ready to walk out the door and not come back. Guilt and shame burning on my face, I had to take a deep breath – and look inside me for the answer.
He wasn’t doing anything wrong, per se. But, my reactions to his actions needed defining. I had to understand what was going on in my head to figure out how to fix this.
I realize now that it was my sense of independence that felt threatened.
About independence: I am fiercely independent, and since I was a kid, prided myself on being able to pick myself up by my bootstraps without anyone’s assistance, no matter the obstacle. This is a philosophy ingrained in me over a period of decades, so it’s not easy to relinquish any part of that to accept help from anyone. Although an admirable quality, you can call this a character flaw, because it can serve as a barrier in a relationship, as well.
I also tend to be impatient when exchanging information. After so many years on computers, I have come to understand that I am like one in some ways. I process information much faster than some (including FP), and I get frustrated when someone takes too long to get to the point. Another personality defect – potentially very damaging.
I had been subscribing to newsletters from a number of relationship experts, including Rori Raye, who has published a number of books and videos on making relationships work. I even purchased one of her videos, Modern Siren (I recommend at least getting her emails and/or reading her blog). I hadn’t looked at the video since my parting of ways with Frog Two, but I realized at that moment, as FP was looking at me with a mixture of hurt and anger on his face, that I needed to quickly dive into the knowledge I gained from those DVDs. If I did not resolve this, I was looking at yet another failed relationship.
It seemed like an eternity, but in the space of just a few seconds, I was able to figure out what was bothering me. I needed to tell FP in a way that was non-confrontational, yet expressed my feelings. I placed my hand over my heart, to ensure that I was speaking from my heart without accusing or blaming FP for anything, and taking a deep breath, I spoke.
I realized that I was beginning to feel stifled, smothered, I told him. His presence, although I felt I could not go without it, was beginning to feel suffocating. Unconsciously, I was pushing him away. I expressed my feelings, and tried to help him understand my own fierce sense of independence.
To my intense relief, he countered with an admission that he thought he might be smothering me a bit, but felt he could not help himself and wanted to do everything he could to help me. He wanted to be involved in the relationship. His first marriage encouraged that kind of ‘take charge’ behavior from him, as well as the caretaking of his mother. He said that it was like second nature to him to just do what he felt needed doing. And, his desire to see me overrode his thoughts that he might be smothering me.
Wow – a breakthrough, and it took almost no effort! He understood! He promised that he would back off on the smothering and automatically doing things for me. I promised that I would be more upfront about feeling smothered and have more patience with him telling stories.
But sometimes, information needs sharing – and without all the trips down interesting, yet unimportant side roads. Sometimes, he’ll go off in a direction that has nothing to do with what he was speaking about, and my patience (or lack thereof) in obtaining important information when necessary, gets a workout. He admitted that he tends to wander off on a tangent sometimes. I explained that it was like asking him to paint a door, but then he ends up painting the entire neighborhood. So, we have devised a loving way to get him back on track, if needed: “Paint the door, honey,” is all I need to say in order to get him back on point – and it works beautifully!
Since that day, we have gotten back on track in our relationship, and I’m feeling good about the direction we’re going. So does FP. I expect that there will be more disagreements, maybe a rehashing about being smothering or my impatience at getting to the point. But, I believe we have the tools to address issues such as this in a way that is not accusing or hurtful – if I can just keep myself from blurting my thoughts without thinking and feeling first.
More later,
~SA
