Happy Hour

This Morning’s Drink: Coffee.

I have a man who loves me the way that women dream of being loved. He would do anything for me. He’s good looking. He’s masculine but not a brute. He adores even the worst parts of me. He’s smart, employed, and has a car. He pays for things a lot, and he always has wine waiting for me when I get home.

He has a woman that some men might dream of (X-rated fantasies not included here). I’m not bad looking. I’m calm, logical and I don’t get jealous. I’m a good cook. I’m frugal except for the occasional shoe splurge. I’m smart, well-employed, and I have a car. I pay for things a lot, and I always do the grocery shopping.  

 But I withdraw and he hates that. And he’s needy and I hate that. And so the cyle of withdrawing and needing peppered with hating makes for a relationship that is constantly somersaulting through discontent. We do love eachother, but we disagree about whether or not love is truly enough. Popular recording artists haven’t settled this yet, either.

Last night, as we sat in separate rooms mid-fight, Gladys Knight and the Pips looped in my brain:

 It’s sad to think we’re not gonna be here
And it’s gotten to the point
Where we just can’t fake it
For some ungodly reason
We just won’t let it be I guess neither one of us
Neither one of us wants to be the first to say good-bye

I keep wondering
Wondering
What I’m gonna do without you
And I guess you must be wondering the same thing too
So we go on
Go on together
Living a lie

Because I guess neither one of us
Neither one of us wants to be the first to say good-bye

Followed by Depeche Mode’s Blasphemous Rumors. But I’ll let you check that out for yourself.