The last try…

It seems strange to be writing this somewhere as public as the Internet, but then it’s not like millions of people are flocking to my blog every day, and I’ve always been honest here so why stop now? (Even if a couple of people from my real life know of the blog’s existence…)

On Friday, I checked my e-mail and discovered that I had managed to order a grand total of seven self-help books (both on relationships and improving myself) within a mere four days. Add those to the ones I already have at home and the others that I have on order, but that haven’t arrived yet because they’re coming from America and you have a lot of self help books. I’ve been making resolutions to improve my relationship, be better girlfriend, become more like the person Jan wants me to be and just generally become better for years, and  being a great believer in the power of books, every time we had an argument, or someone reminded me that they didn’t like me or another friend announced they’re engagement and I found myself wondering “why am I not good enough to be more than a temporary thing?” my solution was to get on Amazon and type in whatever key phrase was buzzing round my head at that minute. It had become something like a habit. When things go wrongl, obviously everything you’ve been trying isn’t good enough, so find a new book and try again. I thought nothing of it. But that list of e-mails from Amazon on Friday shocked me. Things have definitely got out of hand! And it’s not even like I’m that bad. Sure, I have faults, and trying to fix them can never really be a bad thing, but I can’t let this take over my life. And so I made a decision. I’m going to read my books, when they arrive. I’m going to carry on trying to improve my relationship (because there are definitely things I need to change. No, Jan is not perfect either, and ther are things he needs to do as well, but that’s no excuse for me not to try), but I don’t want it to take over my life. And this has to be my last try.

So that was Friday. It then took me the whole of Saturday and most of Sunday to pluck up the courage to speak to Jan. Obviously he had to know, but I had no idea how to bring it up without starting an argument, upsetting him (or me… or both of us), saying the wrong thing… It’s not exactly easy to tell someone you’re only given them (and yourself= one more chance. Finally, last night as my sat down to eat, I told him I had been thinking. And he listened to everything I had to say. I was amazed by how well it went. He actually agreed with me… told me he knows where I’m coming from, and he’s glad I said something. So I’ve given us until December. By that time we’ll have been together nearly 9 years. If he still doesn’t know what he wants, then I don’t think he ever will. And as much as I would like us to be happy together, if things go on like this I’m only going to end up hating him. And probably myself as well. Even though I know a lot of the problem is his inability to commit to anything (not just relationships – it’s also part of the reason he’s taking so long to write his doctoral thesis. Because he can’t bring himself to commit anything to paper before he’s sure it’s going to be 100% useful to someone out there…)). But even knowing it’s mostly his problem, I can’t help but think maybe if I try just a bit harder he’ll realise I really am the one for him. And thinking that way is no good for myself esteem! So the end of the year it is. I only hope when the time comes I’ll have the strength to go through with it! In the meantime, I’m going to enjoy the rest of 2012. If this chapter of my life is going to end, I want it to end on a high note!

And if you’ve read this far, then thank you for listening! (Metaphorically speaking…)

I’ve got the key…

Actually, that’s a blatant lie. I have not got the key. Jan’s got the key…. the key to the new place that is. He went to pick it up on Thursday, so we could get in to measure walls and things. Only one key for now, one which unlocks the main door to the building and the door to our flat. We get the rest on the day of the official handover… which is 30th April… Friday. Cue squeals of excitement. We very, very nearly have  our very own flat. No more living at opposite ends of town. No more feeling out of place in each other’s homes. No more wondering why he doesn’t want to live with me.

Now all I have to do is pack. And clean. And contact the electricity company, my Internet provider… Okay, so there’s still a lot to do. But still… squeals of excitement 🙂

I wish it were simple but we give up easily*

long-distance-relationshipJan and I will have been together six years next month. Six whole years! I was practically still a kid when we got together. In those six years we’ve gone from being “in a relationship” to “in a long distance relationship” and then back to where we started. While every other relationship I was aware of has either moved on or ended we seem to have come to a complete standstill. Of course there have been changes in both of our lives, but they seem to have only happened to us as individuals, at different times as if we were two entirely separate entities who just happen to know one another (well, obviously we are two separate entities but you’d think there would be some mutual stuff in a relationship as well, right?)

So while all my friends are moving in together, buying houses, getting engaged, exchanging vows and having babies the two of us have moved out of our student residence and got our first flats separately, attended engagement parties and weddings as “boyfriend and girlfriend” (in what seems to me is the same sense of boyfriend and girlfriend that is uttered by 15 year olds) and bought dozens of gifts for other people’s children.

It’s not like I even want to get married and have babies at this stage in my life. I don’t even particularly want to get engaged yet. But it would be nice to feel like some day it might be my turn. What I would like is for us to get a flat together. I mean, I adore my flat, it’s the first place I’ve ever lived that was truly mine and it really is a nice place but only being able to have my boyfriend with my for some of the time… well, it gets a little lonely sometimes. I want to be able to wake up beside him every day (not just when he happens to be staying at mine). I want to know I’ll see him in the evening without having to ask. I want a bed that’s not mine, but ours. Is that really too much to ask?

quarto-desarrumado
Would he want to live with me if I cleaned up more often? (Photo: nanquimvirtual)

Sometimes I’ll find myself trying to work out reasons why he might not want to live with me, despite the fact that he tells me he dosn’t even know why. But it’s as if I need to have a cause so I can start trying to fix it. A while ago I got the idea into my head that once I had a proper job he would want to stay with me. Except then I found a proper job, moved into a flat (by myself), lost my proper job again and found a new one… and I’m still living alone. Now I occasionally think that maybe once I’ve got through my probation period things might start to happen. Then there was the time that I decided I needed to give him a reason to come home to me every night, so I started making sure tea was ready when he came home and he always had something clean to wear. He tells me he likes cooking with me though, so I guess that one’s backfired. A recurring theme (and something that I guess is always is that back of my mind) is thinking that he doesn’t want to live with me because he’s seen the state that my flat gets into, so every few months I’ll make a vow to myself to keep on top of the housework. Unfortunately, as I keep telling you (I am the proverbial stuck record!) my housewifely skills leave much to be desired. So I’ll clean and tidy the entire flat once and manage to wash the dishes immediately after we eat for maybe three days in a row, but then I get bored and the thought of the dishes waiting for me in the kitchen just makes me want to cry, and so I stop and once again Jan has to come home to a messy kitchen once again.

In my more logical moments I realise that whether he wants to live with me or not doesn’t depend on my job or my cooking or how tidy I am, but my logical moments are few and far between. Before long the crazy catches up with me again and I start obsessively cleaning the kitchen and dreaming up new and interesting dishes to win over my man’s heart (because we all know the way to that is through the stomach). And so it goes on, over and over again.

Sigh I know nobody said relationships were easy, but I wish someone had warned me it would be this hard…

*Title blatantly stolen from the song The Other Side of the World by KT Tunstall