People ask me constantly, because I have been in a relationship (albeit stupid long distance) for over 2 years now,
“When are you going to get married?”
“When is he going to move here?”
I have one friend who even routinely checks my finger for some new bling.
I always say, “We are working it all out” or “It’s not time yet!”
Geez. But as anyone knows who has ever read this mumbojumbo on a consistent basis, I hate this SLD relationship and I hope that something happens to move it forward into the same zip code soonish. It is bullshit and the 10th circle of hell. The only thing good about it is I don’t have to pick up his dirty socks, because everyone knows that as soon as you get married you have to do stuff like that.
(Aside: Although Al is actually pretty tidy so he may well have to pick up my dirty socks a time or two. To make the distinction, because I know you are all dying for me to, Al is tidy and I am clean. I can’t stand dirty floors or counter tops, dishes in the sink or mildew in the bathroom, dirty toilets, dusty surfaces, all YUCK. But I am much more tolerant of clutter than Al is and he is much more tolerant of actual dirt than I am. In contrast to Stanley, who is a pig all around.)
Anyway, I am going to visit Al on Wednesday night. This isn’t purely a pleasure trip although I am sure to enjoy the heck out of it, but I am actually going to go with him to a medical appointment on Thursday. It’s important and I wanted to be there and he needed me to be there. He told me to bring something dressy because we would be going out to a very nice restaurant on Friday night and he would be wearing his jacket. I mentioned to my mother that I needed to remember to take something nice and she got all
I bet he is going to propose!
and I was all,
Because #1. he can’t keep a secret for shit, #2. He would tell his children about it first, #3. He would tell me after he talked to his kids because that would be a big deal and he tells me everything (I think), #4. He has been paying college tuitions and has no moolah.
Last night, we were texting about next week and I told him what my mom said and he died laughing. Because he thought it was so absurd that it was hilarious.
I was laughing right along with him and then got really MAD.
Because, I was like, “why not?”
Then I got madder still…
The realization hit me like a ton of bricks (much larger than pursebricks) that I am actually waiting for him. I am 50 years old and once again, I am waiting for man to decide if I am worthy of being his wife.
Why do men get that power? How is it that I am this age, and I am waiting for a man to propose? Like I will have won something if he does. How did this ever become the cultural norm for women to wait for men to ask... By the way, what does it mean anyway? I’ve been through this before. Stanley asked me to be his wife. He got on one knee, he presented me with a shiny bauble. What did it get me? It got me twice, then 3x, then 4x, then 5x the laundry, good sex was over as soon as the ring went on, no more nice champagne dinners and romantic bubble baths, it went straight to premature ejaculation and him peeing all over the toilet seat.
So, let me get this straight, in 2014, a woman, who is 50 years old, is supposed to just hang around and wait, to see if a man will pop the question? That is bullshit. I’m stuck in a gender hole. I’m stuck in a place where the man in the relationship currently holds all the power.
Fuck dat. I want a partner.
In partnerships, one person does not have all the power.
Poor Al, he was so confused. He didn’t know what had happened to change the tone of our sweet banter. I went into insanity mode. But my point is real. What am I doing sitting here waiting for him, hoping that maybe one of these romantic dinners will be a proposal.
It is degrading. I feel powerless.
Still, I don’t know quite how to get out of this gender hole.
In our society, women are more powerful than ever. We may finally have female President in 2016, yet it is still the norm for men to present a ring and propose. I guess if Hilary and Bill were only dating that she would have to wait until he popped the question. Even on The Bachelorette, which I accidentally got into this season here, she held the power until the end, but then, after she gave him the last rose, the remaining man still had to get on his knee and propose with a ring. She wasn’t sure he would.
I hated the realization that I was waiting and powerless.
To be honest, Al proposes to me almost every day, but in a joking sort of way. Still I know he loves me and plans to spend his life with me. He tells me constantly and more importantly, he shows me. So, I decided last night that I’m not going to wait. I am going to be a part of the process. We can have frank talks, make a plan and pick out rings (for both of us) together. Or we can screw that and wear vials of each other’s blood around our necks.
Like Angelina did with Billy Bob.
It isn’t like I had any sort of luck with the traditional way anyway.