Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Inside the U-Haul

I have a couple friends in new relationships, (read: moved in but don't know each other's middle names) and girlfriend bandit has an old friend getting married to some girl she's known like five minutes. Lesbians. What is it about us that makes us get involved at the speed of flying pool balls? "Hi! What's your name? I love you! Hey, Anne, this is my new girlfriend! It's different this time. Can you help us move?" I suspect that double estrogen works like some potent drug. I know boobies aren't magic because guys don't act like this. They are really good about slowing things the fuck down; a butt scratch, noting that she's cool enough to sleep with again,then remembering the game is on with a mental note to call by like Tuesday or something.

There may be an advantage, though, of not knowing someone - you don't have expectations that get let down when people change, because people do change, and sometimes drastically. Hiking boots gather dust. The bookworm starts watching basketball. The hippie discovers a competitive edge. The gardener stops saying "I want to live off the grid" and gets interested in luxury vacations. Drunks sober up and introverts start wanting to go party. A few years in, you might hardly recognize your girl as the one you took home, played folk music on your futon for and moved in over your cat's objection.

I think this is where it matters whether love is a verb or a noun. Hear me out here. Love as a noun is very subjective. We feel love, we are in love, we glow and gush to our friends, and all that is great, but is a booby-soft pink cloud of love that just doesn't cut it to get you through everyday life for long. Then there is the verb, to love. To give something that matters of yourself. To show up when you don't want to, listen though you're tired, give her a chance to work her issues out though you really don't understand them, and maybe just to stop and ask if you're being respectful, supportive and kind. I think as lesbians we get really caught up in what we want to feel, which is necessary and great, but sometimes forget to pay attention to the love we do.

I'm not saying stick together when she's changed so much she doesn't hit all 5 of your top five requirements for a mate. Hey, if you really need someone who will play with your monkeys and she develops a deep dislike of all poop-throwing primates, though I've no idea why that would happen, by all means move on! I'm just saying that it is what you do that matters. My dad got in a car wreck a couple years ago and girlfriend bandit drove out to sit with him in the hospital for weeks in a row - without being asked. That was when she truly won me over; what she did showed me dedication, loyalty and a willingness to go out of her way for me and for my family, who are really important to me, though you'd never know it by how bad I suck at calling. It's that kind of stuff that gets you through the times when the pink cloud is black and shitting sleet on you and you have to scrape and scrape to get the ice off your car and realize you have a crappy scraper and then that it is Saturday and you didn't have to go to work after all and put on a suit and went out in the sleet for nothing. You know, those days.

And that is my valentine's day message: if you're going to rescue some kittens together, make sure to do some stuff that gets you through the dirty litterbox days. Years later, you'll be glad.

1 comment:

Anne O'Nymous said...

Poetry, darlin'! Pure poetry. The next to last sentence is joining my quote-of-the-day files. Shall I use your psuedonym or your realonym?

And did those little handlettes of fur, meow, and fear really turn into the hulking, magnificently decked-out, sweet beasties at your house? WOW!