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Perspective
Dec. 5th, 2003 09:42 amIt's funny what we consider 'little things' in a relationship.
For instance,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cholten99 has just made much of the fact that I commuted to his place last night and cooked dinner. This doesn't strike me as a big deal, though -- I like to cook, particularly when I'm cooking for someone else (it makes me make more of an effort and what I produce usually comes out better for it). And as for the commuting ... well, I'm going to wind up doing it anyway, so how would I rather be doing it? Would I rather be going home to my empty and excruciatingly messy flat (must clean flat), or would I rather go hang out with my boyfriend?
For my part, I'm going to have to get used to the fact that my boyfriend is not your typical 'bloke'. The first thing is the casual acceptance of a feminine presence in his house. When I started staying at his place on weekends initially, I tried to minimise my presence as much as possible, which predominantly involved sticking my toiletries in a carrier bag and stashing them on the floor of the spare room. A conversation later on in the proceedings let me know that I was more than welcome to leave stuff out (much more convenient in case one's shower gel leaks out and coats one's toothbrush). That was last weekend. Now I apparently have drawers. Plural. It takes some women years to get a singular drawer. I have two after just one month.
Additionally, I'm trying not to make a big deal of his chucking items of my clothing (I'm guessing the Murderdolls T-shirt I left there last weekend) in the wash with his stuff. I'm just not used to that; I've been doing my own laundry for a very long time. It's terribly sweet; it's just weird.
I suppose it's a perspective thing. Compared to some of the other little surprises (like the reason he wanted my address earlier in the week, for instance), this stuff is small potatoes. I'm trying to walk a fine line between "not taking things for granted" and "freaking right the hell out", though, and it's proving more difficult than I'm used to. I keep reminding myself that if I just be myself, I'm going to be fine here; after all, I went into this by the logic that's the reverse of the more commonly used tactics to get a man -- "be entirely yourself, find someone who loves you for exactly who you are, then find out what makes him happy and use that knowledge to keep him" rather than "pretty yourself up, find a man, make him fall in love with you, then revert to type and shock the hell out of him".
The problem is, being myself normally involves hiding under the duvet and ballsing up the whole relationship at this point. Going to Birmingham to be paraded around his friends like a show pony is bad enough.
Thess
For instance,
cholten99 has just made much of the fact that I commuted to his place last night and cooked dinner. This doesn't strike me as a big deal, though -- I like to cook, particularly when I'm cooking for someone else (it makes me make more of an effort and what I produce usually comes out better for it). And as for the commuting ... well, I'm going to wind up doing it anyway, so how would I rather be doing it? Would I rather be going home to my empty and excruciatingly messy flat (must clean flat), or would I rather go hang out with my boyfriend?For my part, I'm going to have to get used to the fact that my boyfriend is not your typical 'bloke'. The first thing is the casual acceptance of a feminine presence in his house. When I started staying at his place on weekends initially, I tried to minimise my presence as much as possible, which predominantly involved sticking my toiletries in a carrier bag and stashing them on the floor of the spare room. A conversation later on in the proceedings let me know that I was more than welcome to leave stuff out (much more convenient in case one's shower gel leaks out and coats one's toothbrush). That was last weekend. Now I apparently have drawers. Plural. It takes some women years to get a singular drawer. I have two after just one month.
Additionally, I'm trying not to make a big deal of his chucking items of my clothing (I'm guessing the Murderdolls T-shirt I left there last weekend) in the wash with his stuff. I'm just not used to that; I've been doing my own laundry for a very long time. It's terribly sweet; it's just weird.
I suppose it's a perspective thing. Compared to some of the other little surprises (like the reason he wanted my address earlier in the week, for instance), this stuff is small potatoes. I'm trying to walk a fine line between "not taking things for granted" and "freaking right the hell out", though, and it's proving more difficult than I'm used to. I keep reminding myself that if I just be myself, I'm going to be fine here; after all, I went into this by the logic that's the reverse of the more commonly used tactics to get a man -- "be entirely yourself, find someone who loves you for exactly who you are, then find out what makes him happy and use that knowledge to keep him" rather than "pretty yourself up, find a man, make him fall in love with you, then revert to type and shock the hell out of him".
The problem is, being myself normally involves hiding under the duvet and ballsing up the whole relationship at this point. Going to Birmingham to be paraded around his friends like a show pony is bad enough.
Thess
