girlfiend

Anonymous asked:

So my question is, why keep Boyfriend around? I mean he hasn’t proposed, he’s cheated, he’s broken your heart, he told that woman things about you that lead her to believe that you were crazy and he was unhappy. Why forgive him? Sounds like you deserve better.

This question is a tough one. It’s much easier for me to be glib and sarcastic than it is for me to be sincere. But here goes.

Let’s start with this very important fact. Unless you know something I don’t, Boyfiend never cheated on me. His only betrayal in that sense was saying things to the other woman that caused her to think I’m a total wackjob. He has since apologized. He led her to believe he was unhappy because at the time he was unhappy with me. He must have been- I was unhappy with him. When we broke up we were in a really bad place. I wanted things he couldn’t give just as he wanted things I couldn’t give. We stopped communicating entirely. We lived in the same house and rarely spoke. But just because we were unhappy doesn’t mean that we didn’t love one another and want to be with each other. It didn’t mean that we couldn’t fix what was broken. Since our reconciliation we have fixed things. We talk more. We like each other again. We know how to fight more profitably. Our relationship is far from perfect, but so are we. We’re both deeply flawed.

I am not an easy woman to get along with. I have a superiority complex and I like to argue about everything. My moods change from fun-loving to bitchy with little provocation or warning. I am very easily annoyed. I can and will find fault with everything. I am never, ever wrong. I have three cats and I talk about them. Often. I fall into funks that last forever. Sometimes when I’m depressed I can’t do anything but watch television for weeks on end. I’m sullen and withdrawn sometimes. I make fun of people. I can be really, really mean. Usually for no reason. I’m sure Boyfiend could add plenty to this short list of why I’m difficult.

Many things about Boyfiend make me crazy. He has many interests that I don’t share. He gets completely absorbed in projects for weeks on end to the point where he’s unable to talk about anything else and gets annoyed when I tell him I haven’t seen him in days. His male refrigerator blindness drives me up the wall. Picking his dirty stinking socks up off the floor, or worse, moving them off of the kitchen table, makes me want to smack him silly. He doesn’t like a bunch of my friends and rolls his eyes when I talk about them. He yells at the television when he watches sports. He leaves his stuff everywhere. But really, in the grand scheme of things, these petty annoyances, these minor flaws mean nothing.

Boyfiend loves me and accepts me. He makes me feel good. When nothing in my life seems worthwhile he makes it better. He can make me laugh when I don’t want to. He kisses me on the forehead and makes me coffee in the morning. He fixes things without being asked to. He brings me flowers when I least expect it. He tells me I’m beautiful at least twice a day, even when I’m hungover and bloated. Sometimes he looks at me with such love and adoration I blush. We went to Fairmount park yesterday. We threw a football around in a field. He told me I had a good arm. Then we hiked through the woods together. The leaves were dazzling reds, oranges and yellows. Sunlight filtered through the trees and glistened on the creek as yellow leaves drifted through the breeze around us. I looked at Boyfiend and thought: I love him with every cell in my body.

You say it sounds like I deserve better. Perhaps I do. I can’t say. He’s downstairs making me breakfast right now. Maybe he deserves better. Maybe we deserve different. Maybe we just deserve each other. I don’t know. I do know that I love him. I know that I want to spend my life with him. Despite our differences and our arguments we’re very good friends. We like to spend time together. No, he hasn’t proposed. But I really want him to. As impatient as I am, and as doubtful as I sometimes feel, I know that it’s just a matter of time.