Miss Tricky Takes Over

Relax kids; it’s not that kind of post.

“Marriage” has become “The M Word” in my head of late; a big, dirty word that you could never, ever say out loud to anyone. It’s bugging me out and it never used to.

Getting married or the details of a future, theoretical wedding are things I have always casually talked about with serious, live-in boyfriends. They weren’t plans or agreements or designed to elicit a proposal, just what I feel is a normal conversation topic in a committed relationship. Mr. President and I do it too, but lately with him it’s beginning to feel dirty. I, as in all cases *wink*, blame my family…

It started when I told my father I wanted to move to Philadelphia. The questions about what Mr. President’s intentions were (gag) started out pretty tame since my divorce wasn’t final yet, but were always hovering around me. Then the paperwork came back and things like “well now that you’re unencumbered we’ll see what the level of his commitment is…” started being said. The question started coming from everywhere, even from the most unexpected sources. I was shocked and mildly offended. First of all, by what stretch of the imagination is a piece of paper and an overpriced party more indicative of intent than moving in a poor-ass, crazy woman and her autistic three year old? Secondly, I had just finished being married and we had only been dating for like nine months…where’s the fire? I really did appreciate my loved ones desire for me to be safe and I can understand how they would assume that there would be less risk involved in the move if I had a ring on my finger, but is there? If we had been engaged (or even married) wouldn’t I still have been picking up my whole world and handing it over to him? What’s the difference? It’s not like the institution of marriage is all that sacred anymore. Shouldn’t the test have been whether or not I felt comfortable and safe enough with him to bring my child across the state and away from his grandparents?

Anyway, things settled down. I got very good at delivering my “I’ve been married and it’s not fun so why don’t you just leave us alone about it so we can decide on our own terms when or even IF we want to get married” speech and since they are all crazy in love with the Prez and could tell that Spawn and I were happy, they eventually let it drop. But it was too late. Now all our chats and jokes about what our wedding would be like if we had one felt tainted. I felt like if I said the dreaded M word he would think I was fishing for a proposal. Then other things started to crop up in our evening conversations…what if something happened to me? What about Spawn? What about custody and legal rights and living wills and all that other crap you are suddenly forced to think about when you are responsible for a child? Huh??! What about that?!? I was forced to confront the reality that when you are dating, and there is a child involved, the entire playing field is changed. All the rules are different. We talked about how it’s very possible to do everything but change parental rights with a decent lawyer and some living wills; you don’t need to be married to make certain things official. This made my head really start to spin, I mean wouldn’t that make us sort of douchey? What point would we really be making by doing all of the “getting married” stuff without getting married? Isn’t that dumb?

I decided to ignore it all. Life is much more comfortable that way. I, in particular, am terrible with unknowns. My idea was to swear that we would never, ever get married which would take the whole discussion off the table so we could get back to just being happy. If we agreed to never do it then it would stop looming over us and we just ignore all the other stuff until one of us dies, right? Good plan? Oh, no? Fine. Jerk.

Now that I am back in the work force the question has started getting asked again. What is with people? Just because I moved 300 miles, with my son, into the home of a man I love so much I can hardly stand it…Okay, fine. I see your point. To be honest, I don’t even mind that people ask. I am quite happy and secure in my relationship just as it is. I do not doubt the sincerity of his feelings at all. I just don’t like feeling like “wedding” is a dirty word. I have good marriage based jokes! I like to talk about what my third and fourth weddings will be like and how when I turn 35 I am going to start only marrying rich, gay men from conservative families that are willing to pay richly for my beard and heir bearing services. That is good material that I should be able to use without guilt and now it’s all strained and awkward.

Maybe I should dump Mr. President and find a real scumbag that no one would ever want me to marry. Then things can get back to normal…

I have no idea how to share a home with another adult at night.

I have always worked nights, and when I didn’t work nights the person I was shacked up with did. We are talking about 11 years of not having anyone around to care what I watch on TV or that I occasionally eat chicken right out of the can, standing up in my kitchen for dinner. Obviously there have been some nights I had company but that is what is always was…company. There was dinner to be made and drinks to be drunk and Trivial Pursuit and other stuff; now Mr. President is just going to be there. It is just going to be boring old bedtime and hang out every night with no fanfare. It’s a good thing, no fanfare. I am a big fan of quiet nights- or at least I have always been a big fan of my quiet nights and I am discovering that integrating someone else into them is not a natural process for me.

At first I thought it could just be habit; the past 18 months or so I have spent totally alone 90% of the time. Then I started going over it in my head and I realized that I have been trying to get people to go away since I was a kid. When I was little I would build pillow nests in my tiny little closet that I could hide in and read. In school I always had my headphones on so no one would try and talk to me on the bus. At my first job I wanted to close every night I worked because it meant at least an hour and a half of total solitude at the end of the night. Then I started realizing that it’s not just at night! I like to get up at the butt crack of dawn because I enjoy a two or three or more hour buffer zone between waking up and interaction.

I think I’m a hermit!

Well, a hermit who loves people and wants to be social between the hours of 10am and about 8:30pm (it used to be more like 11:30pm but I am seriously old now). Have I engineered all my past relationships around my desire to be alone? What the fuck am I doing being in relationships when I just want the house to myself? How I have gotten away with this for so long?

Poor Mr. President, I am either going to drive us both crazy treating every night we’re at home together like a god damned special occasion or start nesting in closets again. Maybe I should cut him a little slack on that whole millipede thing…

**I’d also like to give some big, old, hairy ups to myself and the other eight cars who miraculously and skillfully avoided a massive pile up when that deer wandered across I 79 this morning. I officially take back at least 20% of all the nasty things I have ever said about Pittsburgh drivers.