Love and Moo, y'all

"Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free." Not the best relationship advice to follow; especially since I somehow wound up being the cow. Udderly ridiculous!

Yet, here I am, wondering what I'm heifer as you yank me this way and that. This way and that way and this way and that way. Have you ever seen a laddie yanked this way and that? And not in the good way either.

So I laugh, a childish laugh, as our relationship becomes guided by childish nonsense, instead of adult love and respect.

Moo, y'all, moo.

love and hostage

Around the neighborhood lurk undesirable characters. Not you - you just have undesirable habits. No, I'm referring to those wonderful souls who quietly invite themselves into the homes and cars of our peaceful neighbors, and steal things.

When I lived alone and couldn't return home because of work, I wasn't too worry. I had the blinds drawn over the windows to block the prying eyes of passers-by. The living room lights would automatically turn on when they sensed the approaching darkness of the night. To the outside world, it looked as though someone lived inside.

Now, you and your family live in my home. We happily open the shades to let in the warmth and beauty of daylight. So, to protect you and your goodies from those with thieving hearts, I ask that we close the window shades at night. Otherwise, anyone can stand by the roadside, hidden in the shadows, and easily make an inventory of our belongs brightly lit by the living room lamps. Yet, you repeatedly ignore my simple request.

Are you so pampered that you don't have the strength to stand up and twirl the curtain rod a few turns to close the blinds? Is the darkest outside the windows and the sudden appearance of light from the living room lamp not enough of hint? Are my requests too much for you?

I feel like I'm living in a hostage situation for my life. I've met your demands; I've changed my habits; I've gone above and beyond to accommodate your every desire. How about you put a little action behind your words of "I love you"? How about you clean your messes? How about you respect my wishes?

I guess I could escalate this hostage situation by changing the door locks. But at that point, we would only be negotiating how to get your stuff out of my house. Our relationship would no longer be part of the talks. Then we would become the most undesirable of characters - angry ex-lovers.

all is fair in love and fair

To be fair, we can say that you’ve tried. But, to be County Fair, your reflection in the fun mirrors of my heart has gotten uglier.

Sorry. That was a little mean. Still, I've found myself look forward to the tension-free times when you're away.

You keeping saying, "I love you." I wish your actions and attitude spoke the same words.

love and the Relationship Dance

You say to me, "I love you." Yet, what exactly do you bring to this dance?

I bought the tickets, paid for the gas to get us here, purchased your dress - all done out of my love for you. You say that you'd help out, but I'm still waiting.

Now that we are here: I'm trying to lead, I'm bringing you drink and food, I'm doing all that I can to make sure you're happy and having a good time. Yet, all you do is complain: the food wasn't what you wanted, the music is too fast, the music is too slow, you want something more but don't know what it is.

My love has its limits. So does my patience. Maybe it's time for us to end this dance before I go broke - financially and emotionally.

love of being cared for

My mind wandered as I washed our - not mine, not yours, our - dirty dishes. "What would I be doing if you and I weren't together?" I wondered.  Then I laughed as I realized I would be doing exactly this; washing dishes just as I had as a single guy.

In fact, it seems that little has changed.  As soon as I come home from work, I cook and clean as much as I did as a bachelor, except now I do it for all of us. 

You made the comment several times that you didn't want to be the main person who cleaned and did laundry.  I understand.

As an unemployed person, you want to spend your time online, focused on filling out your weekly requirement of two job applications for the Employment Office.  It is amazing how you've managed to make this almost two years now.

You're also attending two college classes, one that meets for 2 hours in a week and other needs 3 hours out of your busy week.  With your homework demanding just as much time, I don't know how you do it.

I feel ashamed that I only leave for work at 5 in the morning and return home at 5 in the evening each weekday.  Thank goodness, the weekends allow me to catch up on chores that you weren't able to trouble yourself with.

Please understand that I am very grateful when you do help out.  I feel part of a team when you take time once a month or so to clean our your (your's, not our's, and definitely not mine) cat's litter box. 

It is a delightful surprise to come home and find you cooking supper.  While you do this in your almost loveable grumpy manner, it is still a wonderful joy to learn that I don't have to play the game "What do you not want to eat tonight?"

So don't worry, my Love.  I will take care of you until you return to being that precious life-partner that I fell in love with.  Or until I tire of your nonsense.  Either way, you have first choice.

love of a special cat

My son took a seat at the couch, you at one end and he at the other. Between you both sat your cat, your preciously perfect cat. As my son angled his legs to rest his feet comfortably next him on the couch, you barked, "Get your your dirty socks off of the couch!" You barked. The cat purred. My son quietly complied.

In a way, you are right. While he had never ventured outdoors, my son had worn his socks for a better part of the day as he walked through the house. Socks being the dust-magnetics that they are, must have picked up lots of cat hair and dirt that you tracked in from outside. (This is why I continually ask that we take our shoes off at the entry way.) That last thing we need is for my son's dirty feet to add to the clumps of cat hair visibly occupying space on the couch.

Of course, I notice that your precious pet is perched next to you. Only moments earlier, I found her squatting in a rather full litter box. It is amazing at how your furry feline manages to find any particle of sand untouched by what looked to be results of a Tootsie Roll factory explosion. Yet, there she stood, adding to day's production quota in her feces’s factory. Then, using a couple of thrusts its back paws to fling bits of sand and poop over her new creation, your cat ended its toilet duties and hopped out onto an almost clean floor. I could almost follow the trail of little pieces of poop and particles of litter as she tracked to the couch and jumped up to snuggle next to you.

I, of course, remained silent after your bellow. The last time I gently alluded to the hairiness and dirt of your cherished animal, I was suddenly the bad guy and you called my words as nothing more than tit-for-tat.

Why is it you love my son, but act as though you despise his presence? Do you really love me or am I just a convenient money source for you and your possessions?

cost of love

He stood there, credit card in hand, filling out an application to help the love of his life get through some tough financial times. After being with her for several years, he found himself helping her more out of a sense of obligation than from a sense of affection. Still, even with her standing there next to him, he felt that it was important to help her regardless of his changed feelings.

It didn't help improve his love for her when she loudly said, "It says to put your name as it appears on the card. Did you do that?" His beloved’s demanding tone caused the clerk behind the counter to glance up from her paperwork and stared at him. He felt his face redden with an intense, hot blush. What was he, an idiot? In his many years of dealing with financial paperwork, did she think this was his first time answering credit card questions?

He looked at her, not believing that she had just asked such an embarrassing question and in such a condescending tone. Slowly, patiently, he slipped out of his worn wallet the credit card that he had used so often in her frequent times of need. Without saying a word, he held it in front of her face and good-naturally waited for her response. She acknowledged him with the air of a teacher grading the work of one of her duller pupils, "Oh. Ok."

After the clerk accepted the paperwork, he proceeded to pay the fees. Once again, he saved her day ... as unrewarding as it was becoming to be.