Burn Notice

A few years ago I heard a story about a woman who unwittingly gave a sexually transmitted disease to one of her partners. She worked in a call center and when the guy got tested and found out about the disease, he embarked on a campaign to humiliate her. He called the 1-800 number dozens of times and when a representative answered he'd say, "Hey, do you know Amy? Does Amy work there? She burned me." The office was small, about thirty people all in the same room so everyone knew Amy and pretty soon everyone knew she had "burned" someone. The guy continued to call all day long, even after Amy went home, mortified and in tears.

I tell this story because it shows that we are only as good as our reactions to shitty situations. Sometimes you get burned and you want to lash out, but if you go about it the wrong way you'll lose all your credibility with people who under other circumstances would have totally been on your side. So no matter how upset you are and how slighted you feel, you can't make a hundred phone calls. You can't mount a campaign to make someone else's life a living hell, just because. We all get burned. Slap some salve on that thing and move on.

We Know We're Crazy*

The first step towards recovery is admitting you have a problem. We ladies sometimes do crazy stuff that we (hopefully) know is crazy, but we do it anyway. Perhaps because you all drive us to it, perhaps because we just can’t help ourselves. So how about a little group therapy. 

We know we’re in the wrong when we:

• Get rid of your stuff. When my now-ex and I moved in together, I was fascinated by his “stuff.” Maybe due to the fact that our belongings meshed really well and we have similar taste, but whatever the reason, I loved it and never wanted to pare it down. Women seem to have this compulsive need to find the one thing men love the most (comic book collections, the comfy t-shirt, porn) and annihilate it. Don’t ask me why. If it isn’t yours, leave it be!
• Fill in our own blanks. The blame for this one is definitely spread equally between genders. Men, you tend to give us information on a ‘need to know’ basis. Just the talking points. We want the whole story and if you don’t include each and every minor detail, we’ll convince ourselves that you have something to hide. We’ll write our own story, complete with the wildest ending imaginable. We’re creative like that, so do us (and yourself) a favor and just tell us the whole story.
• Snoop. I’m guilty of snooping, but never unprompted snooping. One time I was using my (MY) laptop and discovered that an ex had visited a dating website specifically geared towards casual hook-ups. I did some more digging and saw that there was a fresh new profile he was still signed into! So I made some fun, informative changes to that profile. See how you make us do crazy things? That one was totally not my fault because I mean, c’mon. If you’re dumb enough to use my computer to find, “Local sluts who want to f&*$” then you deserve what you get.
• Tell you what you want to hear. “I don’t want kids, either.” “You’re the best I’ve ever had.” “Size doesn’t matter.” OK so some of these are little white lies that probably won’t hurt anybody but when it comes to the big issues, we need to stick up for ourselves a bit more. The real answers are, “I'm not sure if I want kids. I think you’ll make a great dad but don’t want to scare you away by saying it.” “You’re very good at taking care of business, but there’s room for improvement,” and, “Size only matters when it’s small. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

*Case in point. God, I wish I didn't have such a great example of me being crazy to share, but...yesterday I called my ex to say hi and the call was sent to voicemail. Not immediate voicemail, but the "ring ring ring voicemail," that lets you know the person has CHOSEN to send you to voicemail. Today I texted him, "Are you pissed at me for some reason?" No response. So I call again. Voicemail. Call again. Voicemail. Third call (affectionately know as the "You're truly crazy" call) he picks up and now he is kind of pissed...he was taking a nap.

I'm crazy.

Lingerie: Yea or Nay?

Or...in a way?

I have about half a dozen lacy little slippy things from Victoria's Secret (and, well, Burlington
Coat Factory, because sometimes they have a pretty good selection of underthings.) They're all adorable; some simple black numbers, some adorned with bows and ribbons and sheer panels. Guaranteed to drive any man wild (or, back into the arms of his hot boyfriend. One or the other.) The problem is that I just so very rarely wear the things. They aren't uncomfortable, or anything. When I do wear them it's usually to sleep in because they are comfortable, not because there's anything brewing in the romance department.

One thing I can give myself and my boyfriend is that we are spontaneous when it comes to having sex. We don't need to be in a candlelit honeymoon suite carpeted with rose petals to be inspired. This means that it's usually clothes coming off, rather than lingerie. So what becomes of those sweet little slippies, just languishing in the dresser drawer? I'm thinking they need to become more of a priority. In fact, I may go out and buy a few more, just to get the ball rolling (hehehe. Ball.)

Intimacy goal for the week: Get into my lingerie more often, even if it isn't going to stay on for too long.

Get to Bed

Pretty early on in my current relationship I noticed a troubling trend. I'd wake up in the morning, roll over to kiss my boyfriend, and get a face full of cold, unused pillow. My first instinct used to be panic. Where was he? Did he go out last night and never come home? Was he eaten by wolves? Cannibals? Or, dear god, could he have run into an ex-girlfriend and decided to run away to French Guyana with her?!?!?! *SCREAM OF RAGE.*

Invariably, though, I'd truck out to the living room and find him, slack-jawed on the sofa, remote in hand, the same episode of The Office repeating itself to infinity on the DVR. *Sigh of relief.* The boyfriend was not missing or dead or cheating (obviously his death would be preferable to that) but the fact remained that, for whatever reason, he had not come to bed.

His explanations were always completely valid: he'd fallen asleep in front of the television, was restless and didn't want to toss and turn and wake me up, needed some space. As valid as they were, it rubbed me the wrong way.

In general, I think physically sleeping together is crucial to keeping your relationship fresh. A few solid nights of boy-on-couch tends to put a cramp in the sex department. After all, you can't have sex with someone who's in a different room (unless you're into short-distance Skype-sex, in which case, you go, girl.) Aside from that aspect, I know that I need the affirmation of feeling someone next to me. Maybe, "need," isn't the right word. Want. I want to feel someone next to me. More specifically, I want to feel the person I love next to me.

My father and his girlfriend no longer sleep in the same room. She is a light sleeper, waking at the drop of a hat and long ago they decided to go it alone, for her sake. I don't think my dad really cares one way or the other, as long as he can have a beer with dinner he's a happy camper. But, to me, that really signals a relationship's decline. First you move one room away, then it's that much easier to move one house away, one town away, one state away. I know, I know, that's slightly dramatic, but that's where my mind goes. I don't want to be the type of couple who lead separate lives and wash separate bedclothes. Some of that, I'm sure, comes from being frightened as a child by my father's situation. Most of it is because I need (want) that physical closeness.

I need it, even though my boyfriend (and lots of other people who claim that sleeping separately has improved their marriages) may not. It's something we've talked over, fought over, and still haven't, "fixed." Do any of my gorgeous Girlfriends-in-Progress have words of wisdom on this? How can you encourage your SO to get to bed!

Picture courtesy of http://www.momlogic.com.