Musings

Walkie Talkies

/ Courtney / 2 Comments

This is a real conversation that just happened in my living room:

Me: (after Gil drapes himself on me while I’m trying to watch HGTV, purposely blocking my view) I can’t wait until we have a real house babe. With lots of space. And a basement. And home office. And living room. So much space for both of us.

Him: Yeah it will be nice to actually live together but not be together all the time.

For serious you guys – this condo has been good to me but it is just way too small for the two of us, considering we both need office space and wind up fighting for real estate on the tiny kitchen table. And we can literally never agree on what to watch on TV. Oh, and there is only one bathroom. Need I say more?

Me: Ugh, I know. I can’t wait til we have our totally separate spaces to spread out, but still be under the same roof. Like, you’ll be down in the basement and I’ll be upstairs watching TV or something. OH!! We need to get walkie talkies! That way we can talk to each other from anywhere in the house.

Him: **glares at me** No.

Me: Why not? It would be great! I’d be all “Hey babe, what are you doing down there? Over.”

Him: There is no way–

Me: **interrupting him swiftly** YES! The more I think about this the better it is. “Is there any red wine in the wine cellar?  Can you bring it up when you have a minute? Over.” OR “I think I heard a bear outside and it sounds angry, can you come up and check? Over.”

In my fantasy there is a wine cellar down there – obviously.

Him: No, no, no. That is not happening. We are NOT getting walkie talkies.

Me: Why NOT??? We are going to need them in Colorado anyway for all our wilderness adventures.

Him: What? Where are we going that you need a walkie talkie? We have cell phones.

Me: Ummmm, hellooooo. There are SO many moutainy adventurey parts of Colorado that won’t have cell phone service. Duh.

Him: Where the hell are you going that we need the walkie talkies to talk to each other? Where the hell are you going? We’re just out in the wilderness together and you’re gonna peace out on your own?

Me: Maybe. I might have to go for a walk to find a place to pee or something and someone could attack me. Then I would need the walkie talkies. **feeling self-satisfied for making such a solid argument**

Him: If you get attacked in the wilderness, the last thing you need is to be talking on a walkie talkie. You need a GUN. Let your gun do the talking.

Dammit. He makes logical sense sometimes. But just in case, I have my Amazon cart ready. walkie talkie

So. Much. Rage.

/ Courtney / Leave a comment

I hate when people make me be mean. I would rather be nice. I have worked in sales and customer service for years… I know you catch more flies with honey, or whatever that ridiculous analogy is.

However, I have recently been exposed to the 7th circle of hell otherwise known as Mazda, and the experience has required me to go into full bitch mode more times than I care to count just to advocate for myself and prevent arrogant pricks from completely jerking me around. When a company so grossly mistreats a customer who has literally just spent $30,000+ and that customer is ME, I find myself getting very worked up over it.

So much so in fact, that I recently landed in the ER with unbearable abdominal pain, only to be told to that it was due partly to an ovarian cyst, and partly due to other stress-induced medical issues. Thanks Mazda, I’ll be sure to forward my ER bill to you.

I am hopefully coming to the end of my almost 2 month battle with Mazda at this point, and I think we are going to reach an outcome I’m comfortable with. If for no other reason, than that they have literally worn me out and I just want to be done. I can’t afford to spend hours of my life every week fighting these battles anymore – I already have a full-time job.

But now what I’m finding is that as a result of this nightmare with Mazda, along with all the personal health issues I’ve had going on lately, I am becoming more and more filled with rage.

This is a total 180 from the other night, when Mazda called to basically tell me to fuck off, that they weren’t going to try to work with me to replace my brand new car, and were now claiming zero responsibility for the issue. That was the night I had to have Gil drive me to one of my many doctor’s offices for a sleep study, so I could be observed like a zoo animal all night. As if I wasn’t stressed enough about that, getting the call from Mazda pushed me over the edge, and I literally sobbed the whole drive over there.

That was 2 days ago though. Today… today I am filled with violent anger.

Not only at Mazda, but at the ER who discharged me with papers telling me I had been diagnosed with hepatitis, when THEY HADN’T EVEN RUN A HEPATITIS PANEL. (For the record, I do not have hepatitis – my primary care doctor ordered the panel herself when I showed her that, and everything came back negative.)

Rage at the ultrasound tech who was checking for the pancreatic lesion the ER thought they saw, who thought it would be helpful to tell me that the pancreas is the one organ that once they do realize something is wrong with it, it’s already too advanced to do much about it. (I do not, in fact, have any pancreatic lesions.)

Rage towards one of the other doctors I saw who basically said, yeah, I don’t know what it could be, you’ll probably just have to learn to deal with the pain, and by the way, I know you didn’t ask me and I’m not your regular doctor, but I think you should really have weight loss surgery.

That day, tears. Today, in hindsight, rage. So much rage.

I suppose I’d rather be full of piss and vinegar than sorrow, but honestly I don’t think either one really suits me all that well. I find myself wanting to snap at everyone, when I know damn well that’s not fair. Although the reality is that life isn’t fair, as the universe has so kindly reminded me time and time again over the last couple months.

So I find myself at what I wonder may be a crossroads… I feel like it would be so easy to completely cross over into just becoming an angry person. Adopting that as part of my regular personality. Angry at the world, and angry at all the idiots who have done me wrong. I would be justified I think.

But I would also become someone I don’t think I would like very much. I love that I can get in peoples’ faces when I need to, that I don’t back down from a challenge, and that I always make sure my voice is heard, but I don’t want to become someone who is in that kind of battle mode all the time, looking for a fight.

I need to find a way to let this all go… and maybe just sharing it with you guys is what’s going to let me do that. Well, that and finally putting this mess with Mazda behind me, which is hopefully happening very soon.

The Secret Life of Couples

/ Courtney / Leave a comment

If I read one more of these lists of things you’re not “allowed” to do in front of your significant other, my head is going to explode. Or my insides, if I follow the ridiculous advice they offer, since then apparently I’d never be able to fart ever again. If you have never farted or peed in front of your live-in significant other, I seriously question your relationship. Or perhaps just your ability to tell the truth. Because, COME ON, there is no escaping certain realities.

Recently, I have been seeing more and more of these ridiculous “listicles” floating around titled things like “15 Things You Should NEVER Do In Front Of Your Boyfriend” or  “Things Married Couples Won’t Do In Front Of Each Other – Even After Decades” or “10 Gross Things Not To Do In Front Of Your Boyfriend.”

Let’s forget for a moment what bullshit it is that they all seem to be aimed at WOMEN, basically teaching/threatening them that they can’t keep a partner if they don’t present an attractive enough air of mystery. Let’s try to forget that thread of sexism for now, and actually just look at what terrible expectations they’re creating for both men and women.

These lists are often disguised as a guide in how to “be respectful” to your partner, or the importance of “keeping romance alive” but that’s total crap. I would be willing to bet they are written by mostly single people, or people whose average relationship lifespan is about 3-6 months. Because anyone who has been in a long term relationship and actually lived with that person will have run into basically all of these taboos, and probably blown by them without even thinking about it. So why is no one writing about THAT?

I have decided (and I’m sure Gil is gonna be totally thrilled about this) that I’m going to debunk some of these common “never ever” relationship commandments with examples from my real-life, awesome as shit, cohabitation situation with the man of my dreams. Good thing he doesn’t embarrass easily. Buckle up guys, here we go.

Thou shalt never, ever, ever, ever, under any circumstances poop in front of your significant other.  

I am going to call bullshit on this, pun definitely intended. I mean, I don’t actually want to see Gil poop, and when he forgets to light a match and I’m not expecting it, our bathroom can make my eyes water. But let’s be real – we live in a small condo with ONE bathroom. If he’s indulging in what I call one of his “luxury poops” and is taking foreverrrr, I will for sure pop in to grab whatever it is I need. If I’m sitting there minding my own business and he really needs his contacts, he’ll come in and snag them. News flash: we still want to have sex with each other. Like, a lot. We understand what happens in there and that we are humans with human bodily functions.

Tonight, he even gifted me with one more example. I hadn’t been feeling hot today and Gil knew it. He was in our room with his headphones on playing video games. As I walked through our room to the bathroom, I made a comment to him about the leftovers from dinner. I thought he caught the whole thing and I went about my business, closing the bathroom door (because I suppose we should have SOME boundaries). A full 5 or 10 minutes later, Gil bursts in without even knocking to check on me, literally scaring the shit out of me. As he was playing his game, he started thinking that maybe he hadn’t caught the tail end of what I was saying and that I was sick and needed immediate assistance so he decided to just barge in and make sure I wasn’t dying. Not sure I completely follow the logic, but I’m pretty sure it’s sweet. I think.

Thou shalt never fart or belch in front of each other.

I mean, seriously?? So if you live in a small space with that person, you are supposed to actually put on shoes, and pants, and a bra, and go outside to fart? That fart or belch is going to damage your fragile little relationship so much that you have to go on a field trip to relieve yourself? Sorry pumpkin, you’re not gonna make it to forever.

Gil told me once about how when we were first dating, he would actively hold in his farts, to the point that it was really uncomfortable for him, and when he would finally get in his car to leave, he would just unleash hell on that poor upholstery.  When I asked him when he felt comfortable enough to start letting them rip (because honestly, I can’t remember a time when he didn’t) he said it was immediately after we starting sleeping together. Once we’d gotten that intimate, all bets were off. And that was within the first couple weeks of knowing each other (sorry Mom) so I can’t imagine how he could have continued much longer without doing serious medical damage.

At this point, we both fart freely in front of each other. And yet, we still want to see each other naked and go down on each other. How crazy. I actually have pretty strong feelings about this whole farting in front of your significant other thing… you can read my whole theory on it here.

Thou shalt ever speak of the shame that is menstruation. Or cramps. Or yeast infections.

Obviously this one is aimed directly at the ladies, and the logic behind it (usually from female writers, which bums me out) is that it’s gross, and no man wants to hear about it. That “place” is supposed to be a special, wonderful playground for him and if you tarnish it with the idea you might be a human woman with human woman issues, it’s not going to be as appealing to him. If that’s your approach to vaginas, you should just buy a fleshlight or save up for one of those real dolls, and call it a day. Real lady vaginas have things going on up in there. And if I’m miserable and grumpy because I’m expelling part of my uterus in a bloody mess, or have a yeast infection that won’t quit, then yeah, I’m going to tell Gil. Because then he’ll probably make me tea and ask if I need ibuprofen, cuz he’s awesome. Because healthy couples support each other.

tampons

As a side note, I don’t understand how you can possibly have a fun, adventurous sex life if you think this way, because in order to try new things you really do need to completely trust your partner and be OK with all the different bodily functions that can happen. And guys? You really need to get over it if you aren’t comfortable listening to any of this. Because first of all, you should be a caring human being who wants to help take care of the person you love and help make her more comfortable if possible. And second of all, the more you understand about a woman’s body, the more able you will be to actually please that woman, and I don’t know about the rest of you, but orgasms are a pretty important part of my relationship.

 Thou shalt never, ever, allow your partner to see you removing any of your unsightly body hair. Do that shit in private.

Another one that is targeting women in particular. On not one of these lists have I seen a “never ever” commandment about men shaving their face. But you gotta wax your upper lip, or pluck your eyebrows, or shave your bikini line? Lock the door and hide the evidence after you’re done. He wants to enjoy the finished product, but wants no part in understanding what went into it. Kind of like eating hot dogs.

OK, story time. Once upon a time, early on in our relationship, Gil noticed the hairs on my chin (thanks for that, PCOS). I usually wax or pluck them, but it’s not really at the very top of my priority list. He started referring to them as my “little beard” – lucky for him I have a sense of humor. So when he asks where I’m going as I head out the door to the salon, I tell him I’m off to wax my eyebrows and beard. Now he pretends to be sad when it’s gone, staring wistfully at my newly smooth  chin. It’s entertaining for both of us.

And another thing… I would not hesitate to trim my lady garden in front of him either. He’s intimately familiar with the area, so I don’t see how actually seeing it being trimmed could even be a blip on the radar.

Thou shalt never bring up past sexual partners or, even worse, discuss your…. number.

Oh for fuck sake. Really? Are we that insecure? Are you not being an adult and having a conversation about your sexual history and STD screening before you hop in bed together? Gil and I know about each others past – it was never awkward, or even one specific conversation that I can recall. I know which of his exes he’s still friends with, and he knows I whored it up in college after my brother died. We talked STD’s on our third date. Jealousy is just not a part of the equation, and there is no need to try to protect anyone’s feelings. It’s life. It’s what made me who I am, and what made Gil who he is. Why wouldn’t we share that with each other?

The reality is, laying yourself out raw and vulnerable to another person is one of the scariest, most exhilarating experiences a person can have. To be completely, unapologetically yourself in front of the person you love, and to have them embrace all of you (flaws included), is a rare gift. Gil and I dropped our bottom lines pretty quick – we talked religion and kids during our first lunch, which I wasn’t even sure was a date. By our official first date (which turned into a whole weekend btw) we had shared even more.

So what are a couple of burps or period cramps between people so close to one another? Why would we care about that kind of trivial shit? I care that he’d protect me against anything, and that he sees the beauty in me even when I don’t. I care that we support each other in our life decisions and know we can count on each other no matter what. Opening the door while he’s pooping to grab my phone doesn’t change any of that.

And for any of the people writing those articles who actually DO believe in what they’re writing, I feel sorry for them. Because putting up those ridiculous walls and expectations means you’re spending more time trying to hide who you are, instead of actually focusing on sharing yourself with your partner and just living. I mean, relationships are hard – you better have a partner who is all in. And life is too short to walk outside every time you need to fart. Seriously.

And this is why I should never (by never I mean ALWAYS) go shopping with my mother

/ Courtney / 1 Comment

I have to buy a new car. Gil and I are planning to move to Colorado this summer, and I have to have a car that can handle the snow – I don’t think my Hyundai Veloster is going to hack it.

I started thinking about this last year and narrowed it down to 2 different cars. One was practical and had an amazing safety rating. And the other got about half the gas mileage and was apparently discontinued this year because they would have had to overhaul it for “regulatory reasons” involving safety and they decided it wasn’t worth it. Too bad – it came in bright yellow and would have been wonderfully obnoxious.

On the plus side, it helped narrow down my choice. I’d already test driven the non-deathtrap one, knew I loved it, and a few weeks ago made the mental decision I was going to buy it before spring. But before I could really pull the trigger, I had to make sure Gil would be comfortable in it since I make him drive a lot. Like when the roads are windy. Or it’s dark. Or raining a lot. Or there is red wine.

So I dragged him to the dealership on a Saturday and made him sit in it and then test drive it. The only acceptable answer when your partner has decided something already and is just looking for your seal of approval is obviously “I love it!” Unless of course it’s so uncomfortable it’s pinching nerves or something. I’m not sure Gil ever actually got that memo. He said that of all the crossover-type SUV’s, this was the “least hideous” and he had enough room for his 6’3″ frame, so I’m gonna choose to hear that as “I love it!” Side note: I bought my tiny Hyundai almost exactly a year before I met Gil – the fact he’s been bending himself into a pretzel for the past few years has always made me feel a little guilty, so I’m really happy to be upgrading to something with more space.

While we were on the lot, the guy was talking about the different trim levels, as sales guys do, and we were walking through what was important to me. I think you should probably know that I’ve been working in sales for a decade, and yet I am still the EASIEST person in the world to upsell. I can’t explain it. (Actually I think I CAN, but it’s probably got something to do with endorphins and a shopping addiction, and I figure it’s best not to pull at that thread.)

But apparently these guys don’t actually work on commission at this dealer group, so he was super low-pressure. Actually recommended I not get the highest trim level, since the biggest difference is leather upholstery and heated seats and I said those weren’t important to me.

Until I got home and launched into what is one of my greatest gifts – rationalizing spending more money. I do this on vacations too, but basically the thinking goes “If I’m going to be spending ‘X’ (X being a significant amount of money) on this, it really makes sense to just spend 10-20% more to get what I REALLY want instead of just settling. It would be irresponsible to spend that kind of money and not fully enjoy it.” I mean, I’m pretty persuasive. I can pretty much upsell myself – the sales guys don’t even have to work me over.

I called my mom that night, and she knew we had been looking at cars that day. First thing out of her mouth when she answered the phone: “Well, how’s the new car?” SHE GETS ME. I told her I just had to make a final decision about important things like heated seats, and she reminded me that my wimpy California ass will not be used to cold weather and it was definitely worth thinking about.

So I started dreaming about heated leather seats in the snowy tundra of Colorado and all of sudden I had sold myself into the highest trim level. Gil happened to hear snippets of my internal sales pitch to myself later that night, followed by my announcement that I was going to go back the next day and buy the damn thing. He suggested I wait a week before making any rash decisions. Because according to him, I make impulsive decisions when it comes to shopping.

“Excuse me??” I practically squawked at him. “You may not realize it, but I NEVER make impulsive decisions. I internalize my thought process and research and mull it over for quite awhile. Only once I’ve gone through that whole process do I reach a PRACTICAL decision. And I just happen to be someone who acts very quickly once a decision has been made.” It was a beautiful monologue, full of passion and conviction. I mean, that’s how I heard it. I was totally convinced by the time I was done with myself. He basically just rolled his eyes and walked away.

I was fully prepared to ignore that kind of crazy talk, but that week as I was running errands and dreaming about my car, I called my mom to see if she wanted to go to Bed Bath & Beyond with me since there were a few things I needed. OK, see, so the thing is…. the “beyond” part of Bed Bath & Beyond is actually kind of amazing these days. There is stuff that you didn’t even realize you NEEDED until you actually see it. It’s more dangerous than Target.

We’re working our way around the store, and I’m finding gems like full fur throw pillows that would actually tie in really well with the blanket I just bought. And Gil and I are always fighting over the 3 tiny pillows on our massive couch, so really those pillows would be practical AND benefit our relationship. My mom totally agreed. I had the self-restraint not to buy any (very reasonably priced) wall art that we have no room for in our condo so if anything, Gil should be impressed with my lack of impulse purchasing. If I gave into all the impulses I actually have, I’d have to get another storage unit.

Gil keeps telling me to stop buying things and bringing them into the house since we’re going to have to pack and move all this shit in the near future. Pfffft. I have a system for that. I just leave my purchases at my parents’ house and then have them give them to me as “gifts” for different holidays. No way he can tell me I can’t accept a gift FROM MY PARENTS without looking like a total ass. My parents are seriously the best. Also, I think there is a chance Gil might figure out my brilliant plan now.

So anyway, back to BB&B. We were making our final lap around the store when I saw it. A plastic toy with the words “HUNGRY BEAR” across the box – inside was a (duh) hungry bear with a huge open mouth, see-through belly and big pink dangling tongue. With an air gun to shoot yellow balls in its mouth. And it made noise. And it was on clearance. Plus my mom reminded me I had a 20% off coupon. It would have been irresponsible NOT to jump on something like that. I mean, Gil’s really had a stressful year, and I figured this might bring out the child in him and make him laugh a little. Basically, if I didn’t buy it, I’d be a bad girlfriend and I just couldn’t live with that. So into the cart it went.

hungry bear

hungry bear in action

As we were walking to the check out counter, I looked down at my cart. Full of fur pillows and a giant brown bear with a gun. And I thought…. maybe Gil has a point.

But then my mom reminded me I should spend my money however I want and I snapped right out of it and marched right to the register.

Basically the moral of the story is that I should always take my mom with me when I go shopping. When I head to the car dealership and have to make the final decision to sign on the dotted line, she’s the one I’m bringing with me.

Dear Midwest, I Have A Crush On You

/ Courtney / 2 Comments

I just returned from a business trip to Omaha, Nebraska and I think I can say it… I have kind of a crush. Not on any of my coworkers – that would be weird and I think Gil might have a few things to say about it. No – I have a crush on the Midwest. Or basically everyone I met in Omaha.

I don’t even know if Omaha is technically considered the Midwest, but whatever. It’s not on a coast – it’s the Midwest to me.

And I mean, I should clarify – I didn’t fall in love with the city of Omaha itself. Although I will say they had a much cuter downtown area than I was expecting. It was yuppie and trendy enough to impress a Bay Area snob like me. Good eats, good drinks, good atmosphere.

Outside of that, it was definitely much FLATTER than I’m used to… you can see much further in one direction than I think is natural. And I know for a fact I wouldn’t survive a whole winter out there. My idea of a heavy winter coat is basically a sweater with a big faux fur collar.

But the allure of Omaha is the people. I can’t remember the last time I interacted with so many friendly people in a row. Everyone is nice out there… for NO REASON. It’s a little unnerving, because when people out here are that nice to you, it’s usually because they’re trying to scam you or they want something from you. I sound jaded, but it’s true. I’ve lived in the Bay Area, LA and New York, and whenever strangers are overtly nice to me, I go on high alert.

In Omaha, that’s just how they roll. I took Uber back and forth to the office while I was there (mostly because I can’t be trusted to drive company rental cars – you hit ONE WALL and it becomes a thing) and every single one of my drivers was friendly, engaging and had a story to tell. And I walked away with business cards from three of them.

There was the real estate agent who had lived in San Diego, Portland and all over Florida, but always came back to Omaha because it was in his blood. He spent a good chunk of our time together selling me on all the reasons why Omaha was the best place to live. I told him I wanted to leave California so Gil and I could afford a real house together, and he offered me his card and told me to consider Omaha for the quality of life. He’s the one that old me the Midwest (Omaha in particular), has such a strong sense of community because the winters are so miserable that they all have to pull together to help each other out to get through it.

Then there was the limo driver who was warm and friendly and felt like a family member I just hadn’t met yet. He told me all about the crazy shenanigans he’s witnessed as a limo driver – the worst of which was when he was driving all day for a wedding, when halfway through the reception the groom comes out with the MAID OF HONOR and fully gets it on right there in the limo, with the privacy partition down. He told me her hair was basically on his sleeve as her head was jammed between the front seats but that it wasn’t his place to get involved. I got his card too, in case I need limo or car service next time I’m in town. Or if I ever need a secret place to cheat, since apparently part of his fee includes minding his own business at all costs.

And on my way out of town, I met a stay at home mom who was driving for Uber to help pay off her car and supplement the family income while she is attempting to write a young adult novel based loosely on her son. We hit it off so much it felt like we were old girlfriends and she told me I was the perfect first passenger… flattery will get you everywhere. I have her blog info somewhere in one of my bags too and I will buy her book if she ever publishes it.

Out here in the Bay Area, it’s just not like that. People are much more focused on keeping to themselves. More interested in checking their emails and following up on the latest messages in Slack to actually speak to the person driving them around the city.

And I basically lump myself into that group too – I am the “them” who are too tied up in technology to interact with people on a more human level. Then I went to Omaha and realized that maybe it really ISN’T me… maybe I’m a product of my environment. I can take on the the personality of the city I’m in, and I liked what that meant for those 4 days out there in the middle of the country.

So I got sucked in you guys. I started to imagine our future together, the Midwest and I. Started thinking about what it would be like if we got to see each other more often… if things got more serious and we even decided to make it a little more permanent.

It was basically the equivalent of being so used to Tinder dates who pull out their dicks when you’re not looking, to going out with someone tall and handsome with broad shoulders who pulls out chairs and holds doors for you and kisses you so passionately your knees buckle, but doesn’t pressure you to go home with him the first night. You don’t really know anything about him, but you’ve named your future children with him before you fall asleep that night.

The reality is, statistically speaking he will probably wind up to have one or more personality traits you can’t stand, like the fact that he always tries to order for you in restaurants, or that he starts to try to push his aggressive religious beliefs on you. Or that he always screams the name Wyatt when he comes. You know, it’s always something.

So I need to keep my shit in check… I need to stop searching Realtor.com and getting a lady boner when I see what kind of house I can afford in Omaha. I need to accept it for what it was. A vacation fling with a local that was only magical for those 4 days in that hotel when “real life” seemed so far away.