You may be different but when I look at the majority of my friends, a discussion about personal boundaries never comes up. We fall into routines with the people around us and base our future decisions on past behaviour. It might not be that the friends you usually only grab monthly weekend drinks with aren’t into spontaneous fun on a weekday; maybe you’ve just never asked them. Shit, maybe they’re wondering the same thing about you!

I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently and asking myself how many of my relationships are defined by true boundaries compared to expectations and assumptions? Maybe I’m not giving my friends or lovers a chance by putting them into a certain category in my mind. Maybe they’re not giving me the same chance. Maybe I’m restricting myself without even realizing it.

What are the fences I'm putting up, and are they as obvious as this?

We can fall into patterns with people we care about. Roles get defined without us realizing that it’s happening. I don’t find out if some friends (or lovers) want to chat on the phone or hang out for impromptu dinner because I just assume that they don’t since we never have. I edit the sides of myself that different friends see, based on my own assumption that they wouldn’t be interested in the rest of me. At times when people I never talk about my non-monogamy with tell me that they read my blog, I feel like slapping myself in the face for making a blatant assumption of how they view me.

Society does nothing to help us address our personal boundaries and more importantly how to share them. While we’re encouraged in some media to stand up for ourselves, embrace our differences and do what makes us happy, we are left to our own devices when it comes to actually relaying how we do these things to others. You’re just supposed to be there for your friends and should automatically know what that means.

I’m learning that I haven’t been very good at managing my assumptions about others. I always like to joke that non-monogamy is similar to having different friends for different purposes; a gym buddy, a movie buddy, the get blottoed buddies and so on, but I don’t think that I’ve been fair to those around me – or to myself – by pigeonholing everyone I care about.

On Conflict

I had another big revelation this week involving how I deal with conflict, specifically issues that I need to share with other people. In that, for the most part, I don’t. So much of my time is spent being outwardly focused, being there for others that need me or responding to their feelings about things I have done. I don’t tell people about things that have hurt my feelings because I don’t want to give them bad feelings. This is a result of a few things including; a) me always being the strong one growing up – being there for family and friends whose problems seemed so much more important than mine ; and b) many years of trying to talk to Steph about different things I was feeling, only to end those conversations reassuring him that he didn’t need to feel guilty or frustrated but without my issue actually being resolved.

I’m afraid to confront people. I’m afraid that by sharing my boundaries, needs or feelings, that I will either be spending time telling the other people it’s ok OR that I will be told that I am wrong for feeling those things in the first place.

So I keep quiet, and adjust my own personal boundaries. The key step that I’m missing though is that moment when I share with other people either a) if there’s a conflict or b) that I just need some time to deal with stuff on my own. I don’t feel like anyone’s going to notice when my behaviour changes. I make an assumption that relationships will simply adapt to my new thoughts, because I have no idea how to communicate to those that matter what I’m really feeling; what’s going on with my head, what I need. I’m programmed to help people, not help myself.

I don’t WANT to be needy. It’s in my blood to be there for others and I want to be able to always give myself to their needs at a moment’s notice. However, this idealistic view that I used to follow in the past doesn’t match up to my current needs. As I grow older, I learn more about the things I require from myself and my friends to live a happy, safe and loving life and I make assumptions that people will just know what those things are, without me actually communicating them. Sharing a few things here and there on the internet is certainly not an accurate representation of who I truly am and what I truly need, even if I am an “over-sharer”.

Strangely enough, the people who I feel the most comfortable just verbally vomiting all over are the dominants in my life. I am not hesitant to ask them if I’m sharing too much, or crossing the lines because I’m afraid of the consequences. I should show other people similar respect and allow them to tell me their own boundaries instead of assuming that they understand my own.

With all of the above soaking into my brain, I’m accepting that I may not be as good a friend as I aspire to be. When it comes to boundaries, I haven’t been sharing mine with others and made my own decisions on others, without asking them. With expectations and assumptions, I have simply expected that people are not interested in what I have to say, so I let the relationships I have remain as they are. I also assume that people can’t handle my conflict or will react negatively to it, for no fault of their own but because I’m afraid of being wrong for having my own feelings or for feeling guilty for not being 100% there for their needs because I have my own. Then I go and focus on my own needs anyway, and end up making others feel shitty.

If I don’t tell them that they’ve done something that sucks; I suck too.

We are all wired differently and I realize that I have to learn to communicate my boundaries, expectations and assumptions with everyone I care about. I have to give people the chance to react to me in their own way and I have to treat myself with more respect than I obviously have been. Point taken, self.

You see, I have a confession to make. I’m a fat kid; you probably already know that. But what you might not know is how evil I am to myself because of it. How I’ve let my inner voices rule my decisions, my self-worth and my motivation for years. Forever, really. This is what I’m having trouble admitting to myself, and to you. I don’t really like to talk about my weight struggles much, outside of acknowledging that they’re there, however I have to now. I feel like I cannot move forward and share with you other sexy stories, other activist-like posts and so on, without being 100% honest with everyone about what I’m thinking all the time, under the surface. All. The. Time.

Fat in Grade 10. And obsessed with Shaq. Can you dig it?

After finally separating my self-worth from my body image, years ago, I thought I was free and clear of all that negativity. Who was I kidding? Sure, I reached a point where I realized that I could be valued as a person with opinions, fears, ideas and personality – and that had little to do with the size of my ass, but I’d be lying if I said I’ve always been comfortable with myself. Just comfortable enough to get by and fake it. I would say that’s a pretty successful and content place to be.

Then 2011 happened. 2011, or as I like to bitterly think of it as, “The year that my heart was stomped on and I allowed my confidence to be removed out from underneath me.” Never mind the fact that I had three relationships end; the most serious one of all dragged on with empty promises and ill intentions. And what was worse was that I allowed it to for far too long until I just physically could not take it anymore. But the damage was done.

Somewhere along the way, the mixed messages full of compliments and rejection broke me. Those two separate bubbles of self worth and body image became one again and I began to once again tell myself, deep in my sub conscious, that I wasn’t worth anything because I’m fat. To add insult to injury, I actually gained weight last year and took terrible care of myself. And not just a little weight, but enough that my comforting tights that have fit for years suddenly don’t anymore. I got dressed this morning, into a favorite dress, and it was tight and I felt terrible in it. And my tights wanted to fall down. And my underwear wouldn’t stay over my belly. Because it’s too big. And I just wanted to crawl under a rock and melt away.

The reason I’m writing this out isn’t for you. I think that’s pretty clear at this point in this sappy, emo post. I’m writing this post to finally admit to myself all of the hurtful and harmful things I tell myself without realizing. This is me coming face to face with all of my inner demons and starting down the path to set them free.

“I am a lazy, fat slob.”

This is a perfect example of a sentence that I have told myself for years. Of course I would never say it out loud to anyone else, unless it was in jest; instead it’s always remained at the surface, like a little invisible monster that nobody sees but me.

I must be lazy because if I wasn’t I would work out more, right? I must be a slob because otherwise I wouldn’t feel hungry enough to eat that one bite more than you had. I must be not worth dating because I have a larger tummy than I should have for this body.

Right???

I think a lot of us fat folk tell ourselves we’re lazy far too often. We’re so used to failing that it just makes sense that we’re lazy. Might as well just accept that fact and get on with it.

If I don’t want to go to store on the weekends, I’m lazy. If I don’t put my laundry away, I’m lazy. If I don’t do anything but sit on the couch and binge on Netflix, I’m lazy. Ok, well that one counts. Point is though, I tell myself that everything I do (or rather “don’t do”) is because I’m lazy. Because everything connects to how I feel about my body and being lazy is what makes sense.

Except I’m not lazy actually. Well, on a Saturday morning I am. In fact, most mornings I am, but I prefer to call that “night owl syndrome”, not laziness. Anyway, I digress. It took a good friend pointing out to me that when I want something, I pour my heart and soul into it. Last year when I planned Digifest, and my baby, Playground, I gave my absolute all to those events. So much so that I ended up with a 5 day flu that had me barely able to walk to the toilet after they were finished. I worked about 40/50 days straight, barely stopping to pee or MSN for months leading up to the events.

And yet, my inner voice would still tell myself that I was a lazy failure. And some illogical part of my psyche would agree, and the self-hate would perpetuate.

What I’ve learned from my friends’ advice is that I can, and DO, succeed at things when I really want them. It has nothing to do with being a slob, instead it has everything to do with motivation. I succeeded at writing 220 pages of my book but have yet to finish the remaining 30. How could I be so motivated for the majority, but fail on the rest? I’ve been secretly telling myself I’m a failure for over a year because of it, but I’m sure I’m simply scared instead.

A similar story is to be told when it comes to my weight. It’s not that I have no idea how to be healthy. I’ve done so many good (and bad) things to lose weight and get healthy over the years. Bernstein, Weight Watchers, anorexia, bulimia, a personal trainer, working out at home, yoga, WiiFit, changing my diet … blah blah blah. I know the things that work, and with many of those things I’ve been relatively successful. Then something would change in my life and I’d move on to either something else … or nothing at all.

“Get back in the gym!” “Stop eating that cheese!” “Stop being a baby and just lose the weight already!”

I get it. Some of you might want to yell those things at me. Some of you might have been born with excellent metabolisms and the ability to wake up in the morning and work out without feeling like ass. You might have not had experiences with body hatred. Or maybe you have, and have gotten over it and forget how hard it is. Your parents might have never gotten divorced and lived across the country. You might have more than just one parent left alive. You might have never been mocked with fat phobic remarks like I have been my entire life. And while I don’t resent you your body privilege or ability to go go go, and while I won’t deny envying you, I will defend my right to be fucked up because of those things as the reason I am writing this confession to you now. It certainly doesn’t help that the first time I ever lost any fat I was anorexic, bulimic and an obsessive exerciser all at the same time. Because if there’s ONE thing I’m good at, it’s multi-tasking.

In order for me to succeed, I have to want to be successful. My lack of energy to try isn’t because I’m lazy, it’s because I’m unmotivated and absolutely terrified.

The absolute 100% truth in the matter is that I am pretty convinced that whatever I start to do for weight loss and muscle gain – I will fail in. And this is the battle I am up against. This stupid inner voice telling me that this time will be just like the rest. That I will have some success but then I will lose focus and get fat again. That I will never NOT be the girl who takes up too much space on the subway seats. That I will always be the girl who can’t wear heels because I’m too heavy and weak to hold myself up. And of course I will always be the girl pulling up my tights or my pants because they don’t fit me perfectly as there’s just too much fat there.

I WILL ALWAYS FAIL SO WHY EVEN BOTHER TRYING???

I don’t want to think that anymore. I don’t want to be distant with my husband because I can’t bare to take his compliments when I’m hating myself. I don’t want to avoid putting my laundry away because it makes me see all of the clothes I look terrible in. I’m finally trying to start owning it. I’m finally acknowledging those inner demons and trying to acknowledge every time, or at least more often, when I feed myself hateful language. I have only just started to realize how hateful and mean I have been to myself for years. And years. And years. I have let the fact that I have a large stomach rule almost everything I do, without even realizing it was happening. What’s funny is that I am comfortable as a big girl. I *could* be a smaller girl, but I’d be happy as a curvy girl forever. I have no big desire to be skinny. I mainly just want my tummy to go away. And I want to love myself again. And feel sexy. And give my love to others.

And fit into my fucking tights.

Now I just have to figure out which direction my baby steps need to go in and who can help me along this path. Because being stuck in my own head is obviously not working for me.

Let’s do this.

Please note: I am not looking for sympathy as a result of this post. I’ll take empathy and hugs, questions about what I’ve tried and what I haven’t, followed by suggestions if you have them. I didn’t write this or share it to have you tell me I’m pretty. I AM pretty, and smart, and sexy and pretty talented at a lot of things. I haven’t forgotten any of this stuff; the narcissist in me won’t let me. I just needed to share with the world. It’s a bit of a compulsion I have. If I tell the world what’s going on, I can’t pretend it’s not happening anymore. Thank you for reading this far. You’re probably a pretty awesome person and I hope lots of people love you.

David mentioned to me at some point before or after my Playground Non-Monogamy 101 workshop that he would be interested in doing a piece on non-monogamy where I would be featured. I’ve said yes to similar pieces in the past and had a great feeling about both him and the girl who called me a few days after my initial interview to “fact check”.

That article can be found here. To be honest, the only issue that I have with it is that it seems to focus on the fact that – a few months into non-monogamy I struggled extra with the little details – like the visual cue of my husband’s date’s wine glass being left behind in my kitchen. When we were relatively fresh other people fuckers, silly shit like that was hard to handle. So I share those stories with other people because those are the things that threw me for a loop back in the day. A few commenters on the article have latched onto the wine glass story, suggesting that if I’m not comfortable with that then I must not really be happy with non-monogamy at all.

And this is a mild challenge I always see that, for the most part, I ignore. There are a lot of assumptions out there about open relationships. First of all, people will often react strongly when they hear someone is in one. “Isn’t that hard? What about jealousy? What if you fall in love?”. On the flip side however, if I suggest mySELF that non-monogamy is hard and that sometimes those questions can have really tough answers, then I obviously must not be happy with it. It’s not a practice that we should continue if there’s any hint that it’s sometimes challenging to have your partner fuck someone else and not you.

*blink* #sarcasm

I find this attitude so ridiculous which is why I will constantly strive to be honest when discussing open relationships. I would make a terrible happy poster child because I don’t just talk about the good on this site (and at my workshops), I also talk about the bad, and the ugly. Maybe I need to talk more about the good, which is a fair point. It’s always so much easier to talk about something challenging that we learned from instead of something easy that we just breezed right through. However in the interest of clarity, I will list a few points here that maybe I haven’t said in some time.

• Just as all of our time together has evolved – as we’ve gotten older / had new experiences / grown closer – so has the non-monogamous side to our marriage. There are many things that are much easier to deal with now – 5 years in, but were very definitely challenging at first – like the wine glass example from The Grid article.
• Non-monogamy ISN’T always easy. Whether you’re in it as a swinger or poly, it requires a lot of you and a lot of your partner and can be very challenging. Denying that it’s tough sometimes would be doing a disservice to anyone that was thinking of trying it.
• Fucking other people isn’t the only benefit to being open, which is something I try to stress all the time. It’s certainly a huge one, but there are countless other personal benefits on top of sexy fun.
• Acknowledging the desire to be selfish and do things for yourself is healthy. It’s how you choose to handle those feelings that dictate whether or not you are an asshole. I recently went out and splurged some money on new (needed) clothes and a hair-do because I wanted it for me. It’s not that I didn’t want something good for Steph as well – he’s free to shop all he likes! – but this didn’t concern him as I am my own person, with my own needs.
• While I certainly don’t think that we were headed down a path to divorce (at the time of opening up), I feel 100% certain that opening up our marriage was the best thing for our future as it has brought us more self-awareness, more confidence and more understanding of each other.
• Steph and I are more in love with one another, each and every day. As we grow and experience life together, our bond is constantly growing.
• I was never a “forever” person and now – as I see what a strong “team” we are – I am much more that way inclined.
• I admit it and I KNOW it’s hypocritical, but it is much easier for me to be with other people than it is for me when Steph is. Does me admitting that it’s sometimes difficult mean that I can’t be ok with it happening? Of course not. Compromise / happiness and unconditional love are things that matter very much to me and I will work through my issues because they are just that – my issues. Sometimes you’ll read about them here too. That’s kinda’ the point of this blog. You know, the diary-esque site you’re reading right now that has my feelings in it.
• Despite other people’s objections that Steph and I are stomping all over the “traditional definition” of marriage, blah blah blah … we feel, deep down, that we are very, very married. We still make all of our household decisions together. We travel together. We support each other when we’re sick. We buy groceries at one of the local stores whose name he always forgets. We share many bills. We get into married sex ruts. We burp and fart around each other. We take our cats to the vet. We hang out with our friends, separately and as a couple. Many of them are hetero normative, living “normal”, traditional, happy lives, and some are queer and challenging social norms because it makes them happy to do so. And sometimes we hang out with our friends that we sleep with.
• Being open has certainly brought us a little heartache over the years; me more so than him because I tend to get more involved with people emotionally, but he is right there beside me as it happens.
• Being open has also brought us more love. We have a bond between us that no one can break. We have people in our life that we likely would not have met without this lifestyle that we love like family and I can’t imagine not having around.

On favorites:

Unless you show absolutely no interests outside of Creed, Two and a Half Men, Star Wars, pizza and beer, I will not judge you for your taste in music, movies, food and TV. I have some strange tastes in all of these things and know that your life’s path may have led you to an interest in death metal, country, indie or even Gaga. Our time together doesn’t have to involve seeing the same bands in concert or bonding over True Blood or Dexter, though I certainly agree it would be fun if it did. I don’t expect us to like all of the same foods. You will probably like something that I find disgusting and horrific and you might not be able to see past my love of Branston pickle but as long as you don’t try to kiss me with onion or olive breath though, I think we will make it through.

I will not judge you for your (lack of) knowledge of wine. Nor for your favorite travel destinations or choices of art on your walls. If life has taken you on a path where you cannot afford to live on your own, I won’t mind. Though it will certainly make it difficult should we choose to take our clothes off.

If you like to partake in recreational drugs that I am not involved in, I will not be scared away. My body has my own thoughts on these things, but as long as you are respectful, not creepy and still nice to me, it is not my place to judge your chosen form of relaxation. I only ask that you understand and respect my personal choices or limits.

I will not judge you for driving a car or being a cyclist. I will however, take issue with you placing all blame for road problems on one or the other. As someone who partakes in both forms of transportation I see the problems on either side of the coin. I won’t not date you because of your chosen profession(s) – or lack of one – and in fact will be curious to learn about your passions.

Seems pretty easy, right?

Shouldn’t life be easy, really? Alas there are some things that are, and will remain, sticking points for me and I hope that you have your own because otherwise you are undervaluing yourself.

I will judge you for your treatment of others. How you react in the face of poverty, racism, hatred or violence. I will quickly find out and base my involvement with you on your thoughts on equality, politics and religion. The way you treat your friends will stick with me. The way you treat your family will also be of great importance but I will understand when family drama may have driven a wedge that cannot be removed. I will watch your behaviour when dealing with wait staff because it is important to me to not date a snob or an asshole. I will admire you for your honesty, especially when it comes to your fears, insecurities, desires and kinks. I will appreciate and encourage your sexuality and like you more for sharing with me. In fact, I will probably like you a LOT more because sexuality in general tends to get me hot.

Anything else?

And while I will do my best to not judge you based on your appearance, I will base my decision on whether or not to go out with you on how you choose to present yourself. If I cannot be attracted to your looks, even after getting to know you, it isn’t fair to either of us to pretend and I totally get that you might not be down with dating a girl with a big tummy and behind. I won’t think you are any less of a person for not being physically attractive to me and I would appreciate you not reacting in such a manner that suggests I’m a bitch for doing so. I am happy to have a thing for dirty blonde preppy boys, tattooed hipsters or nerds in skinny ties and girls with curves and tattoos in all the right places, but remain open to being attracted to others that don’t fit into those categories. I just make no guarantee.

While I won’t judge you for having your own tastes in … everything … it is entirely possible that I would like you more if we DID share some things in common. Knowing you have experience in kink, non-monogamy, or an interest in tattoos and rockabilly culture would probably work quite well in our favors. It would be helpful for you to understand me when I say things like hetero-normative, BDSM and crusty bread, but remember those things aren’t necessarily related. If I have to educate you on any of those topics we likely will not work out or have any chemistry and that’s just a fact. No reason to get upset about it.

I will demand that you respect my marriage and time limits and put no demands on me that are unreasonable and disrespectful.

And finally, if you understand that I am the main character in my movie and that you are auditioning for a role as a supporting case member. Not everyone is going to make the cut but that doesn’t mean there isn’t another movie out there for you.

But … today sucked. And I can’t hide the fact that it sucked, and I’m having trouble saying any words out loud. I’ve barely said anything all day but I firmly believe that I still have a quota of sentences that I have to release so typing is how they’re coming out today.

It’s Friday the 13th and the day started off pretty dumb, but then just got progressively worse. I’m feeling really lost and dumb as a post at work lately, making fuck ups left and right and not grasping concepts with work I’ve never done, but still … I should be able to grasp. I know it’s a means to an end, but I’m letting it effect me substantially and it’s hella’ depressing. That alone was enough to ruin my day until I started thinking about something that’s come up recently.

Steph and I both went on lovely first dates the other night with girls from okCupid. (More on my lovely date later.) When I got home, we didn’t really talk about it. For some reason I’ve always been defensive immediately and haven’t wanted to hear anything about his dates – something I’ve been trying to figure out for a long time. He also doesn’t tell me much, thinking that I’m going to have a problem – more on this in my next post. Anyway, so after I get over that, we talk and I hear more about her. She lives up the road – which immediately I find to be a combo deal. That’s half really great, easy, convenient; I’m envious yeah, but whatevs. And then the other half is that it’s too close. Too easy to visit, too easy to spend way too much with her – if things were to get that far, of course. I’m lucky because Steph realized that half before I did and expressed similar anxiety which made me feel much better.

Eventually we ended up having a relationship conversation. One that was definitely very overdue and started very innocently. While telling me about the date, with adorable, cute enthusiasm – which I absolutely cannot knock because I’m so proud of him for becoming so comfortable with meeting people when he used to dread it – he said that it was cool that we could learn about the neighborhood from someone who lives in it.

This is where my feelings changed. We’ve lived in the neighborhood for five years. There’s quite a few places we have visited and quite a lot more that we haven’t. It’s easy to fall into a rut when you’re living anywhere. You stick to the same places based on your schedule, your preferences, whatever. But something I know very well is how much Steph has always been pretty negative about new things. Trust me, the man has gotten SO much better, but he is always the first one to “put the brakes” on something new whereas I’m often up for anything.

So why did it irk me when he said what he said? Well I suddenly realized one of the reasons I’ve often been uncomfortable with him dating other people. Keep in mind that this is a few years worth of buildup and I’ve only just articulated it. So many times I’ve suggested doing something fun, something that he and I can share as an experience together. Whether it’s try a new restaurant up the road, or a night out, we’re supposed to be partners and best friends – makes sense to do fun things together. Citing cost and practicality he’ll often reject the idea, not realizing that by doing so I feel he’s rejecting me. Of course he’s allowed to not want to do the same things as I am, he’s his own person sure. If it’s something like going to the grocery store – something we have to do – of course he’ll go, but anything “fun” that we haven’t done before (or sometimes things we have done) he’ll say no to, and not always because he’s opposed to it, just because he’s basically being lazy. So when he tells me excitedly that we can learn about the neighborhood from this new chick, I suddenly realized how I’ve felt rejected for years.

I get cost and practicality. Dates get enthusiasm and agreeance.

She gets it!

The “shiny and new” syndrome doesn’t just affect going out in relationships. It can affect how we relate, how your sex life at home is vs. your sex with other people. It’s easy to do new things with new people. There’s less expectations and less history to base judgments off of. It’s also easier to try something new that you’ve wanted to for a while because someone else is there to motivate you. What’s happened to us is that over the years I’ve stopped trying as much. I’ve adapted my idea of fun to fit my situation. I’ve gotten very good at convincing myself that certain things are in my past and that’s why we don’t do them when the truth might be that Steph just says no so much that I’ve given up.

The problem I face now is suddenly my heart is filling with resentment. That’s totally my emotion and I own it, but that doesn’t currently make it any easier to deal with. I feel like I’ve been cheated out of fun for years. Or that I’m somehow not worth having fun with and it’s left me feeling very insecure about it on top of a lot of other insecurities I’m feeling lately. I’m angry and sad all at once. I totally hate the idea of Steph meeting someone new but NOT because I’m opposed to him dating, but because I’ve suddenly realized all of these feelings related to something I’ve been missing out on. In addition, I think it has trickled over into our sex life. I feel like I haven’t been fucked by anything besides something I was controlling for weeks. Granted I was busy at work, got the flu, and then had a period accompanied by gross migraines, but I think the practicality has seeped into there as well.

One of the reasons why I seem to be “on” all the time when in the company of the Drapers is that I’m not around them as much as I am Steph. The opportunities to let loose and enjoy naked times over there are few and far between so even if I’m not initially feeling it, I allow myself to be constantly open to fucking so as to not let an opportunity pass. But why doesn’t that happen at home? It’s so easy at home to make excuses for not having sex, or not trying the new restaurant.

We can always do it tomorrow.

But the problem with that mentality is that there’s always another tomorrow and things get pushed and pushed and pushed. It happens to both monogamous and non-monogamous couples. The catch with non-monogamous couples is that we get to try the new things with other people, which can be a great thing – but sometimes not so much.

Like right now, I just want to feel like my husband wants to do fun things with ME. Not necessarily in place of someone else, but just as well. Go out and have fun on your dates, but then have fun with me too! It’s not such a big demand. Trust me, I can be a laugh riot, but I’ve lost my confidence with him in the bedroom and in the neighborhood. Practicality has gotten in the way so much that I don’t want to suggest anything anymore – though I still do because I’ll never really lose my enthusiasm. Honestly though, often I’d rather find someone else to go out with because it’s more likely they’ll say yes to my crazy or not so crazy schemes.

But if I do that, then we continue to both lose. I need to keep trying. I need to find things we can share together and not give up so soon. And he’s admitted that lately stress has caused him to take me for granted. He hasn’t let me in and I’ve felt it. The other day I came home with some life changing news – that I’ll share with you when I can – and he asked nothing of it. I felt embarrassed to bring it up because it seemed obvious that he wasn’t interested.

And that’s dumb of both of us. We recognize that we need to get better at this. Doesn’t that sound like a strange thing to say?

“We need to get better at having fun together.”

Whatever. There it is.

Wheeeeeeeeee!

*Addendum: We DO have a lot of fun doing a lot of stuff. Don’t get me wrong. There’s just a lot of new and different stuff that I’d like to try as well.