Posts Tagged ‘Our Relationship’

thank you

. . .

Couldn’t she have at least granted me the respect shown by following proper capitalization and punctuation rules? 

http://www.cookco.us/email_skills.htm

In fact, some bronze pottery would have been more appropriate.

Traditional wedding anniversaray gifts

Year British American
1st Paper Paper
2nd Cotton Cotton
3rd Leather Leather
4th Fruit, Flowers Linen, Silk
5th Wood Wood
6th Sugar Iron
7th Wool, Copper Wool, Copper
8th Bronze, Pottery Bronze

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wedding_anniversary

HappyAnniversaryLesbiansI know that we have a future full of more happy memories yet to be created. It started so fantastically: the night we met, the mud-puddle, playing in the park with Kelly, waking up in your apartment with the beautiful trees outside the window, staying up all night to touch and talk, being together in your tiny shower, surprising you at your going away party, traveling all night to get to our new life together and not wanting to go to sleep once we finally got here, days spent sailing on Loretta, our trip to Mexico, the day of our Civil Union, our reception, our civil rights work, all that we went through to have our son, his birth day, our public and successful family project, and all of the little moments that have been and continue to be created everyday with our son by our sides or with him in the background giggling and talking . . . all treasures of our hearts.

I Love You –

Happy 8th Anniversary

Tomorrow is the anniversary of our Vermont civil union.  It’s the day we supposedly became both civilzed and unionized.   Actually, it was one of the best days of my life.  A perfect day and I’m very serious about that. 

Anyway, shortly after the Vermont civil union law went into effect researchers surveyed nearly 1,000 couples, including same-sex couples and their heterosexual married siblings.   The survey included my lovely spouse and I and our married heterosexual married siblings.   Yes, we were part of the survey.

Recently the New York Times ran an article about the survey that we participated in.  After reading the article I’m convinced – we are two lesbians molded into one  . . . one big sterotypical heterosexual ball and chain marriage.   Why can’t we be more like the other lesbians in the study? 

The study delved into the causes of marital conflict and included questions on subjects such as housework, sex and money.

You can read the entire article at : http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/10/health/10well.html?_r=1&8dpc&oref=slogin

Here is a quote that caught my eye, “Notably, same-sex relationships, whether between men or women, were far more egalitarian than heterosexual ones. In heterosexual couples, women did far more of the housework; men were more likely to have the financial responsibility; and men were more likely to initiate sex, while women were more likely to refuse it or to start a conversation about problems in the relationship. With same-sex couples, of course, none of these dichotomies were possible, and the partners tended to share the burdens far more equally.”

Did they even look at our survey responses? 

Neither of us do the housework – we have a housekeeper.  Anything she doesn’t do – we argue about or ignore.

I have the financial responsibility since I’ve always been the bread-winner and she’s a stay at home mom.   Here is how it works . . . we decide that we’re spending too much.  She says, “that’s simple – GO MAKE MORE MONEY.”  Of course, she has all of the financial control.   I barely have change for the parking meter.

So men usually initiate sex?  Well, I used to try that but after being told “no” or getting elbowed repeatedly, sex really became a none issue to me because I have been getting close to none for years.  Guess that goes directly to the heart of the claim that women in heterosexual marriages are more likely than lesbians to refuse sex.    Where are these committed lesbians who say “yes” on a regular basis?   . . .   (psssssssssst  – call me)

And not only does she start conversations about “problems” in our relationship – she seems to live for the sole purpose of identifying and nagging me on and on and on about each and everyone of these “problems.”

Here is more from the article:  “While the gay and lesbian couples had about the same rate of conflict as the heterosexual ones, they appeared to have more relationship satisfaction, suggesting that the inequality of opposite-sex relationships can take a toll.”

Quite frankly, I’d be perfectly satisfied in this relationship if she would quit harping on all of my faults and our relationship “problems.”

More, “Heterosexual married women live with a lot of anger about having to do the tasks not only in the house but in the relationship,” said Esther D. Rothblum, a professor of women’s studies at San Diego State University. “That’s very different than what same-sex couples and heterosexual men live with.”  

Okay – she’s f’ing angry all the time.  Maybe I should call up Esther and ask her to personally dig out our survey response and FIX US – PLEASE!

And, according to the article, us lesbos make fewer verbal attacks and make more of an effort to defuse situations during disagreements.  “Controlling and hostile emotional tactics, like belligerence and domineering, were less common among gay couples.”  And, supposedly if you studied us during an argument you would find that we didn’t have an elevated heartbeat or adrenaline surge.

However, based on the reality of these lesbians – our neighbors are no doubt talking behind our backs about the fact that we’re a married hetero couple posing as lesbians.

We met at Sadie’s Tavern a former lesbian neighborhood-type hangout on Orlando Avenue in Winter Park.  I hear it’s no longer there.  I was only in Sadie’s one time – the night we met.  I was traveling and didn’t live in Orlando.

Later that night, we ended up at Lesbo-A-Go-Go at Southern Nights, a gay disco on Bumby Avenue. 

Southern Nights

As soon as I met her I thought, “Why can’t I meet a girl like that.”  We ordered our beer based on the pretty label and the next thing I knew we were riding in an old limo with a couple of wackos that we met during the first hour that we talked.   That was the start of our competition – our “one up” game.  It’s also the reason that we’ve always vowed to never go to a strip joint together.  I hand the dancer a dollar, she puts it in her bra, then I go for the back of the g-string, then she’s in the front . . . next thing you know we’d both have two strippers sitting in our soccer-mom living room.

The morning after we met I felt really sick.  My heart was pounding and I was out of breath.  I took some Valium to try to calm down.  I couldn’t decide if I was having some sort of panic attack related to my work or if maybe I was having a heart attack. 

Then – it hit me.  I was having a heart attack, of sorts. 

I DID meet a girl like that!

What a great day.  We really are a great family.  Just when I thought it was all over, we have another great day.    Watermelon, flag cookies, playing in the cornfield, a bounce house, kids running and dancing and screaming, musical chairs and lots of lesbian moms.   

Late in the day the sun begins to fall behind the corn field.  The glow is pink and orange.  The air is warm with the hint of a cool breeze coming our way.  We’re tan and fit from our recent trip.   He’s in the bounce-house giggling frantically with 4 other kids. 

She’s on the balcony looking absolutely as gorgeous as the breath-taking night that I met her.  

I’m sitting in the playground fort.

We look at each other from a distance with our son giggling in the background. 

I forget all about her driving, nagging, and our fights over a million of insignificant things.  Tonight, it’s all about the good things . . . our family and our terrific son, our friends, our safe, secure, happy life built on our hard work together as a couple.  We’ve had so many good moments as a team. 

There she is looking at me with the beatiful sunset glowing off of her face in the distance.  Maybe she’s finally seeing me again . . .  really looking at me.  What a relief.  So many times I think that it’s all going to fall apart and he trusts us so much.  We are his anchor. 

Her lips move and she’s trying to tell me something but I can’t make out what she’s saying so I just smile her way.

Later she approaches me.  I’m still up in the fort and it’s not quite dark as she looks up to whisper something to me . . .

“I want a divorce.”

We wanted to do a blog together; but as usual we couldn’t agree on the name or what we would write about or the theme for the design.  I suppose that shouldn’t be a surprise since we can’t seem to agree on anything.   “They” say that we aren’t married but if we aren’t, why does it have to feel so much like a marriage complete with ball and chain?

We’re civiled & unionized but bottom line – we’re two lesbos goin at it – over anything and everything.

It’s been 10 years since we met.  What a fun night.   I was working out of town and decided to try out the tiny lesbian neighborhood bar down the street from my hotel.   I noticed her almost as soon as she came in the door.   Everyone seemed to know her.  She was so perky.   Okay, so even though the word “perky” may conjure up dreams of a just-old-enough-to-avoid-jail cheerleader, I can’t say that the dream is far off the mark.   Even from across the room I could tell that joy was pouring out of every inch of her. 

I’m not sure how we managed to be standing side by side at the bar so quickly.   In my memory it seems like she was at the door across the room talking to everyone in the bar and then she was right beside me.   One of those twitch my nose things and zap, there she is.   I’ve had that happen.  A totally different story and totally different girl.  

Okay, you talked me into it.  I’ll tell the other story first. 

The bar was down a dark alley.  The door wasn’t marked.  Only a small light above the door with selective admittance by peep hole invitation.   

Once I’m in, through the smoke and by the light of a bulb hanging over a pool table, I notice a girl (probably straight) with a great butt.  I barely had a chance to think about her and her butt.   Hold on . . . next thing you know she’s dropping her jeans and panties to show me her tattoo that . . .  just happens to be on her butt.  

Wouldn’t I be a great testimonial for that movie “The Secret“? 

The Secret has swept the world and touched millions of lives; mine is one more story of a life transformed into joy.  Learn of the bliss that I have have created in my own life as I share the power behind the law of attraction.  Works on family, friends, pets, health, wealth, and now . . . stranger’s butts.

Anyway . . . that was a weird night.   I’m minding my own business trying to get a sneak peak at a stranger’s butt, that looks quarter bouncing fantabulous, when next thing you know I’m checking out a tattoo on that butt, hearing about Chinese philosophy and the “meaning” of a butt tattoo.  There is “meaning” in a butt tattoo?  Who knew?

I always thought a butt tattoo meant a girl was an easy mark for one out of control sexcapade.   And, please – never more than one night with a girl sporting a butt tattoo.  Even though my mother would never know . . . well, actually my mother would know.  She’s one of those mothers.

Did you know that in Chinese philosophy, “yin and yang are generalized descriptions of the antitheses or mutual correlations in human perceptions of phenomena in the natural world, combining to create a unity of opposites”?   Shocking, the load of crap that one collects from looking at one butt in a smokey peephole alley bar just before closing time.   Thank the good Lord that it was only one night of hearing about the meaning of a butt tattoo.

Well, that was then and I’m in a different place now. 

Back to my original story.  No, this girl didn’t have a butt tattoo.  She hated tattoos and women that went around looking at stranger’s butts and having one night stands.   Instead she was happy, joyful and perky.     So even though we had  . . . 

He’s awake.  Our little man is awake.  I’m hearing a sleepy call for “Mommy” from his room.   “Mommy is on her way, sweetie.”