So yeah, a post a month seems a pretty reasonable number compared to before. Right? Yeah, right.
It’s not like I don’t have things to say — my brain is filled on a regular basis with inane rants and trivialities with which to entertain my (one?) reader(s). But yet after spending all day in front of a computer, trying to look busy and thrilled with the tasks I’ve been given, I seem to have a hard time doing the same when I get home — especially when there are things like baby blankets to finish knitting, video games that require playing, and cats that don’t understand “get out of my lap Mommy’s busy.” Oh, I can’t wait until I have kids.
All of that said and done, here I am. One of the major factors in my not updating lately has been insane amounts of stress and frustration associated with my place of employment. And since I long ago instituted a policy of not discussing my work in anything but the most general terms online, well, it really left me with very little to say — other than perhaps stupid little cryptic comments that led the world to believe that I was still alive. Voila, a contribution.
However, the light at the end of the tunnel appears to be a positive one, for a change, instead of the oncoming train. I can’t say much at this point, since I don’t yet have the concrete details in place, but I should have a good announcement to make possibly even later today.
On the personal front, the Dear Boyfriend and I are a week away from our one year anniversary — which also marks six months of cohabitation. There have been tears, and swears, and other complaints at times, but there’s also been the joy of getting to go to bed beside someone I like somewhat on a regular basis, which overrides the rest of it — except when it’s 4 a.m. and I’m lying there awake listening to his weird irregular sleep breathing wondering if I’m ever going to be able to fall asleep again… however, he claims I snore (though in a delicate, feminine manner), so I guess I get him back sometimes. We’ve been discussing how we’d like to celebrate our anniversary, and we have a bit of a one and a half-day thing planned; he’s suggesting paintball on the Sunday (the actual date), and it’s up to me to pick the Saturday activities. So far, my suggestion has been dinner and a comedy club, or Iron Man, which opens that weekend. We are truly too cool for school.
The kitties continue to do well. Now that the snow has finally abated (I guess my offers of anal sex were tempting after all), the backyard is pretty clear, though a bit damp, and Thena is able to enjoy the outdoors on pretty much a daily basis. On one of the nice days, I set out a canvas folding chair — for me, originally — and now that’s Thena’s regular perch when she goes outside. No one would say my cats are spoiled, for certain.
I’ve had some interesting conversations on relationships as of late as a result of a number of different things going on, some of which are mine to discuss and some aren’t. I realized the other night that it’s been over 6 years since JJ and I dated, and he’s getting married very shortly, which is great. The guys have gone to the strip clubs the past two weeks, which has resulted in my doing some introspection on where I stand on strip clubs and how they can affect relationships — and it’s led me to realize that on some issues, I’m just not as progressive as I like to think I am.
In principle, and in a relationship, I have no issue with strip clubs. I’d have a problem with it if my significant other was interested in going on a weekly basis, for example, but as a once-in-awhile thing, no big deal. Let’s face it, I have excellent high speed internet access in my house; if someone wants to look at naked ladies, they don’t have to go out to a club to do so.
Where my issues come into play is in the arena of lap dances. Now see, I’ve never had a lap dance myself, either from a male or female dancer (and yes, I’ve been to both kinds of clubs). Again, on principle, I have no issue with lap dances. I understand that’s where the bulk of a dancer’s take-home pay/salary originates. Where I start getting uncomfortable is the area of another woman touching my significant other, and/or him touching another woman — as it’s been told to me that it’s pretty much a free-for-all as far as touching goes, though some places will say only the girls may touch the guys. I wouldn’t enjoy my significant other touching another woman (or another woman touching my significant other, especially with the intention of arousing him) outside of a strip club, so why it is suddenly supposed to be acceptable to me when money changes hands?
Which leads me to the next point — my irrational brain, when presented with the idea of my significant other purchasing a lap dance, turns the notion into, “I find this girl attractive and would like to spend my money to have access to her boobs and have her grind on me,” and I don’t particularly care for that notion. I like to delude myself that I’m the one that he finds attractive and none other, so…
And I know that last point isn’t a fair one; after all, there are guys I encounter that I find attractive, so I don’t expect my significant other to be blind to the charms of other women. Hell, in the last year alone, I’ve met two different guys that, had it not been for the Dear Boyfriend, I would’ve been interested in pursuing. I hardly claim to be a saint, and I think the blogs I’ve written attest to that fact. But, because I care about the DB and have no interest in pursuing something different, it’s a non-issue to me. They were very lovely guys whose company I greatly enjoyed, and it certainly didn’t hurt that they were both quite easy on the eyes.
That said, this is not a trust issue with me in the least. I trust the Dear Boyfriend implicitly, and even in my insane moments of paranoia (of which this was not one), I know that he cares about me and would not cheat on me. It’s simply that I would like his hands to be on my body and not that of someone else’s, especially if it’s in a sexual environment.
And this is a sentiment that goes both ways. In our discussion on this subject (I’m sure you can tell this lengthy diatribe stemmed from one, or is practically a transcription of one), I stated that I had no problem with him going to strip clubs, and I would never ask him not to go to one, or even not to get a lap dance; I just didn’t have to enjoy the idea of it, and asked how he’d feel in the reverse situation. We’ve both acknowledged there are things that the other does that aren’t the most comfortable for one another — my semi on-going friendship with an ex- being his example — but we wouldn’t ask the other to stop the behaviour, as we trust one another and know that isn’t the issue.
I was asked if I’d rather he had lied about it, and I told him no. I would rather know the truth and know that I can trust that what he said to me was the truth, rather than have him try to spare my feelings. I can always come up with something worse than the reality, so I’ve always wanted to know even the bad news to its fullest extent.
I also realized that in my past dating history (extensive as it certainly is), I’ve had relationships where I probably wouldn’t have cared if the boyfriend in question had lap dances or not. Hell, I’m fairly certain that towards the end of my relationship with the UBFM, he was cheating on me, and I really don’t care at this point (yeah, yeah, especially as it ended nearly ten years ago — even then, it was pride that was involved, nothing more). It seems as though when I genuinely care about someone, that’s when I care about their actions. Maybe this is when I should trust them more, which I do, but I just don’t seem the type of person to be dismissive of the ‘intimacy’ of lap dances and other things like that, much as maybe I should be, given my progressive nature in many other areas of life.
It’s been an interesting time, learning about myself through living with someone else. For example, I learned that at my last place, I was a borderline slob as far as the cat hair everywhere went. We discussed it before we moved in together, and as he wanted the place vacuumed on a near-daily basis (or three times a week, which realistically translates into once a week), the Dear Boyfriend took on that role. But don’t worry, I do the bulk of the cooking as compensation — with the resulting dish cleaning. He takes out the trash, I get the mail and bring the trash cans back in usually. I’m trying to wean him away from doing laundry, as it often results in disaster (such as him washing his passport about a week after our return from Cuba), but so far no luck. It’s mainly because he has fewer clothes than me, so needs them more often — whereas, in combination with my stocked freezers and pantry, I could outlast nuclear winter with my clothes.
Anyhow, speaking of laundry, I meant to get some started, so I think I’ll head off for that now. Exciting things are on the horizon (other than laundry, I mean), and right now, I’m in denial about them.