Monthly Archives: January 2016

9 Cliches I Have Had To Accept As True Since Being Married

Aren’t cliches about love gross? They make me want to barf. Here are a couple of gross cliches that are super disgusting.

1. When you know you know

It is strange and just a little unnerving to realize that we didn’t totally know each other when we got engaged. I have learned a lot of things about Scott since being married, for example that he is planning on giving his son his middle name, which is Eugene. This was not exactly in my plan, but strangely the more time goes I think it is the name all cute boys should have.

2. Absence makes the heart grow fonder

Sometimes I miss him while I’m at work. Yuck.

3. Marriage is waking up next to your best friend

We never really want to hang out with people. Partly because we are curmudgeons, partly because we’re jerks, but maybe also because we just like each other?

4. Love is blind

Once he told me it was “a beauty zit.”

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Also supports my scrunchie habit

5. Laughter is the best medicine

Sometimes I get mad and then he makes me laugh, which makes me more mad because I wanted to be mad. He is super manipulative like that.

6. I thought I loved you then

I like him so much more now.

7. Timing is everything

Scott and I both agree it would not have worked out for us had we met nine years ago while living in neighboring dorms. I had dark brown hair as the result of a very poor decision and am also sure I could not have fit into his pants.

8. Nice guys finish last

JUST KIDDING, THIS ONE IS FALSE. I MARRIED A NICE GUY AND IT’S THE BEST!

Meanpeoplesuck.png~c200

9. We were meant for each other

It’s as gross as it is true. Here’s to another year of eating my words.

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Saturday

On Saturday, we took our bikes down to the beach and rode up the coast.

We were not the only ones with this idea, but instead of it making me angry the way LA crowds usually do, it made me happy. That all of us decided to get up on a Saturday in January and go outside, because unlike most of the country, we can.

There were rollerbladers, surfers, skateboards, kids and dogs and old people. There was a buff guy swinging on the gymnast rings just south of the Santa Monica Pier. There were thousands of people just north of it gathered for an ultimate frisbee tournament. At one point we ran into my yoga teacher.

Eventually, we got through the crowds and up into the quiet of Malibu. We stopped to look out at the water and I wondered to Scott if that was where they got the idea for glitter.

I have whined about this city and complained about the grind, but on Saturday I found it impossible to imagine why anyone would ever live anywhere else.

Word of 2015: Content

I am not a naturally content person.

A dear friend has often described both she and I as simply discontent. “It’s what makes us good at things,” she says, “but also sort of miserable.”

The word itself has sort of always made me turn up my nose, as it connotes being stagnant which obviously means being mediocre or worse, giving up. Ew!

But content is how I felt this year. Or rather, this year I got my first taste of contentment.

Content: Satisfied with what one is or has; not wanting more or anything else.

Doesn’t it sound great?

This year I traded in a demanding, life-sucking job for one that is simpler. Less challenging, less interesting, a little more fulfilling. I spent months going back and forth about whether I liked it or not, whether it was stimulating enough or the right career move, before deciding to simply accept it. It is, like any job, good and also bad, but I chose it, and I am learning from it. I picked it for a reason, and I’ve worked hard to remember that in the moments when my ego tells me I am so totally too smart for this place.

It’s weird how being content takes work, isn’t it? Was it ever our default setting?

This year I traded in the excitement of dating for a steadier kind of love. I gave up flirting and being flirted with and the silly, ego stroke it brings for the happiness of being loved in the most mundane of moments. This year I felt adored while brushing my teeth. That hadn’t really happened pre-2015. Being loved in the small moments has filled in a million little empty spaces I didn’t know I had. I was always able to hold myself together but it feels a little sturdier now. Like a floppy stuffed animal that got packed full of fresh cotton.

I have had to accept the fact that I cannot pursue everything I want to. It is my least favorite pill to swallow. But I swallowed the embarrassing, horse-sized medicine and am trying to focus on doing a few things well rather than doing everything badly. I think it’s a good trade. And a necessary one.

This year I decided I like my body. Hey, I said it out loud!

I accepted the fact that being in a good relationship still means giving up a lot of control. Ask me where I will live in six months. I can’t tell you.

I’ve made peace with the fact that I cannot cook like my Mother. Or maybe I could, except I have zero desire to put in the necessary time. Later, I say. When I’m home with a cute, illiterate baby and am losing my mind.

Satisfied with what one is or has; not wanting more or anything else.

Can you imagine it?

It’s tough for me. I still have things I badly want, and am working hard to get them. I think maybe I’m just a little more okay with enjoying the small moments. Remembering that life is what happens while you’re waiting for the big stuff.

Content is my word of 2015. What’s yours?

 

p.s. this post was inspired by my friend Jill. Read her words, they’re lovely.