Long Relationships

Thanks to a recent project assignment, I’m off to the other side of the country again. This afternoon, I’m boarding a plane for a six-hour flight so I can be locked in a windowless room for sixteen total hours of meetings about software development requirements. On Friday night, I’m taking a red-eye home so that I get back to the house at the bright hour of 7am. Wow. I haven’t seen my itinerary all together like that yet. It’s kind of daunting.

I’m making the best of it. I’ve asked my co-workers to stake out good restaurants for me so that I can anticipate tasty food and fun company after my meetings. I don’t get to see my west coast counterparts very often, so it is a treat.

But saying good-bye to JG this morning was still sad for me. From the time that he hugged and kissed me in the shady darkness of early morning, I knew that it would be three days - almost exactly - before we were going to see each other again. Even then, when I roll up to the house, I’m pretty certain that I won’t be my most alert of fun-loving self. Maybe after a few hours of actual, non-plane sleep, I’ll be good to go.

Here’s to hoping…

long distance, business travel, being apart

I really hate surprises. The worst kind involves people jumping out from dark hiding spots and yelling at me. Oh, I don’t hate the actual party. It’s the racing heartbeat that I don’t like. The rush of blood to my face. The uncontrollable, primordial yelp that escapes my throat if I’m scared. I just hate surprises.

Most people chalk it up to my inherent need for control, not just of my situation but of my reaction to the situation. It’s a character flaw I’m willing to accept. Unfortunately, my abhorrence of being surprised nudges other people to plot surprises against me. I hate that, too.

I say all of this because my birthday is in a week and JG loves surprising me.

It all started a few weeks ago, when I asked where we were going for dinner for the Saturday after Valentine’s Day.

“Oh, I’m not sure yet,” he said innocuously, “but I know where we’re going for your birthday.”

What?!

“Where? Have we been there before?” I was all ready to picture myself there and figure out what I was going to wear.

JG shook his head. “Nope. I’ll tell you closer to the time.”

I turned on my best wheedling voice. “Oh, come on! This is my birthday. I know you like surprising me, but shouldn’t things be as I want them to be for my birthday?”

“Fine. It’s The Melting Pot.”

“Woo hoo!”

“- or so you think!”

What?!

Not knowing where we’re going makes waiting for my birthday even worse. The mere knowledge that JG is holding this over my head is making me crazy. In response to a rather lunatic question about wardrobe (“What if I need overalls and I don’t have any?!”), JG just shook his head.

Most of the time, I love that JG knows me so well. The only down side is that he also knows exactly which buttons to push to fray my nerves. It’s not that I don’t trust him because, in the end, I know that I’ll love whatever he put together. That should be enough for me. Ultimately, I end up simply not knowing and I have a great time. But the ideal situation is that I know about it ahead of time and then enjoy it fully thereafter. I’m just saying.

couples, birthday, surprise

Last week, over at All & Sundry, Linda ruminated about the risks involved with taking a step forward in a relationship. In a conversation sparked by a friend who swore that he wouldn’t marry until he was 30 - and who has now turned 29 - Linda asks how long his long-term girlfriend will wait and hint for a proposal. In her mind, life-altering decisions involve choosing weighing the stability of what is known and comfortable against the risk of taking a step for something that could be really rewarding but can be scary at the same time.

I think that’s what it comes down to for some people. You look at your feelings, your life situation, and you just . . . take a guess. You accept the risk, or you don’t. You make a leap of faith, or you don’t.

Initially, Linda’s husband, JB, simply told their friend that he would “just know” when the time was right. The trust-your-gut approach can work for some people, but it didn’t sit well with Linda. She shared times in her life when she just didn’t feel right but took the plunge anyway: getting married, having a baby, deciding to try for a second baby. In an illustration that really resonated with me, Linda described a fundamental difference between how she and JB approach potentially risky situations.

Several years ago we were hiking in Nevada, going down this steep hill covered in loose scree. JB was taking big, charging steps, he was using the rock to help him slide along. In contrast, I was mired in a fear of falling, I was making these tiny, awkward movements and trying to grasp at nearby vegetation to keep me from tripping. It took me forever to get down this hill. Forever. While JB waited at the bottom, patiently.

I can easily see myself in this image, hanging on to any sapling in my path, if only to avoid sliding down a hillside on my caboose and sporting a myriad of bruises. I wonder if Linda is like me and peels bandages away slowly. I know ripping them away all at once is faster, but I’d rather control smaller dosages of pain. In the same way, I am much more cautious and calculated than JG regarding our relationship. Although he and I were close friends for months before we started dating, I was hesitant to make it official, partly because my prior breakup was still fresh in my mind. At one point, I even asked, “Do you count as my rebound if it’s been seven months?”

Luckily, JG brought me around to the idea that it was okay to go for something even if you haven’t charted out all of the possible scenarios, budgets, and losses associated with it. We’re both planners by default, but sometimes, there’s a point when running the numbers is not sufficient and we just have to trust each other. I’ve also learned that if I go down an unsteady path with the thought that I’m going to fall, the anticipation will affect me more than the actual fall would hurt. JG would just run up to help me if I fell; part of this marriage deal is being safety nets for each other.

If Linda’s story is any indication, there’s still hope for me:

I wish it were easier for me, I wish I had the sort of faith people talk about when they talk about prayer. I wish I could learn to slide on the loose rocks. But I have learned to gamble. I have learned to hold my nose and jump.

After all, taking a big leap isn’t so hard if you can hold someone’s hand.

couples, taking risks, milestones, All & Sundry

The author of Amateur Gourmet, a food blog I frequent, put out a small survey to get an idea of who was reading his site nowadays. Including questions like location and how we had found his site, readers also responded to prompts about the five foods we couldn’t live without and the five foods that we could. After I submitted my comment, I asked JG if he could guess my two sets of five foods.

“Oh, pasta, for sure,” he started. “Steak, soup, Swedish fish, and maybe, shrimp? I don’t know about that last one.”
“You did pretty well,” I conceded.
“What? What did I get wrong?”
“I had pasta, mushrooms - ”
“Ah! Should’ve gotten that one!”
” - chicken noodle soup (JG nodded), Swedish fish, and no-knead bread. So, you did pretty well.”

That wasn’t enough for JG.

“What about your other list?” he demanded.
I wasn’t sure about this one. “We just don’t eat the foods I don’t like…”
JG started guessing. “I think you would have put … bananas, cottage cheese - ”
“Ooh, I should’ve put cottage cheese.”
“I don’t know, we really don’t eat what you don’t like,” JG admitted, running out of steam.
I nodded. “I know. I should have put cottage cheese, though, that stuff freaks me out. But I listed beets, turnips, sweet potatoes, raisins, and French toast.”

He slapped his forehead. “I should’ve gotten French toast!”

Well, a girl’s got to have some intrigue.

Amateur Gourmet, couples, guessing

When JG plays video games, I usually watch with a furrowed brow and ask what are apparently Very Dumb Questions. I just don’t get it. Once I think I have the hang of some concept (like that Waluigi is bad), a new game comes out that inevitably messes with my head. I think I need to accept that I will never fully understand video games, kind of like how JG will never quite get my sixth sense that something is on sale, but that’s another story.

- - -

During Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door:

RA: (pointing) Who’s that big guy?
JG: Oh, that’s Bowser. I have to be him for a little while.
RA: What is he, a dinosaur? With a shell? Or is that armor?
JG: Er, yes.

- - -

JG: Look, it’s your favorite!
RA: Ooh, a cloud-duck!
JG: No, they’re called lakitus.
RA: Why are you beating them up?
JG: They’re bad guys here.
RA: But they help people back onto the track on Rainbow Road…
JG: I’m not playing that game right now.
RA: Oh, right…

- - -

During TimeSplitters: Future Perfect:

RA: So, where do you carry all of these guns you pick up?
JG: Uh, I just sling them across my back.
RA: Even the rocket launcher? Aren’t they heavy?
JG: I’m really strong?
RA: Oh. But how does it work if you burst into flame? How is it that you just pop up someplace with your guns intact?
JG: …

- - -

During SSX on Tour (Note: I’ve never gone skiing, ever):

RA: Whoa! Did your guy just take off his skis in midair?
JG: Yup, it’s a monster trick.
RA: Can you even do that?
JG: In the game, you can. Or do you mean in real life?
RA: Well, in real life, aren’t they strapped to your feet…?
JG: Yes, dear. The skis are strapped to your feet in real life. I also couldn’t do six tricks in a row in real life.
RA: I thought this game was supposed to be realistic!

couples, video games, differences

On Saturday, JG took me out to a new (to us) restaurant as a sort of extended Valentine’s Day celebration. The evening was a special outing, so we took the time to dress up and even made a reservation online. I looked pretty darn sassy, if I say so myself, but the snowy, slippery streets were not easy to navigate with my pointy boots. I hung on to JG’s hand for dear life as I slid down the five blocks between our parking spot and the restaurant. He looked at me grimly before suggesting that maybe I had worn the wrong shoes. I retorted, “I look cute, right? These are the right shoes.” It wasn’t pretty, but we managed to get me to the restaurant in one piece and mostly snow-free.

The dining room was mood-lit with tea-lights and contemporary back-lighting and the service was wonderfully attentive, with the exception of a strangly absent waitress, who was either being trained or training someone new, either of which left her accordingly frazzled. The food was very tasty and just the right level of fancy. I loved feeling classier than normal. Wearing heels and ordering more than one course of food will do that for a girl, I think. “We should definitely come back here sometime,” I said, spearing a piece of pork tenderloin.

Throughout the evening, though, I had a sneaking suspicion that JG wasn’t having that much fun, that he was just getting through the night for me. I ask him to take me out to new, nicer places, but sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it if he doesn’t genuinely enjoy it with me. I also fear that asking to be taken out like that places me in the category of Demanding Girls, which is a thought I do not savor.

For dessert, we ordered crème brûlée and after it arrived, I asked JG what he thought of the restaurant. He cracked through the sugary crust and said, “It’s not really my thing to go to such a fancy place. I mean, this food is great, but I probably could have used two entrées. I’m glad you liked it, though.”

Ha.

So there’s our understanding. Periodically, we’ll go out to dinner to a nicer place where I can dress up and feel fancy. We’ll both know that it won’t be the quantity of food that JG would prefer, but I will be lavish in expressing my appreciation for the change of pace and degree of sacrifice on his part. As long as we’re on the same page, it’s all good with me.

couples, date

In her blog at iVillage.com, Gail Saltz, M.D., comments on the fear of commitment and offers advice to those who may be handling this issue in their relationships.

Dr. Saltz, a regular contributor on the Today show on topics including mental health, sex, and relationships, is sympathetic to both sides of a relationship in which fear of commitment is an issue, saying, “Being involved with someone afraid of commitments can be both frustrating and perplexing. In addition, being afraid of any commitment is no picnic either; life is pretty lonely.” She explains that this fear can be deeply-rooted in a childhood trauma, like the loss of a parent to divorce or death, and stems from a fear of rejection.

How do you know whether you’re involved with a commitment-phobe? Dr. Saltz lists six typical behaviors at the start of a relationship, including having unrealistic ideals of a perfect partner and going through multiple cycles of break-up and reconciliation. In assessing whether a relationship is worth working through this fear, this psychiatrist is tentative: “Working out intimacy with someone afraid of it is no easy task. There could be a lot of heartache in store, with no certainty of a possible happy ending. It could be time to go looking for a more stable possibility and hope for satisfaction.”

I’m grateful that I have not had to deal with this issue, but that’s not to say that JG or I take commitment lightly. The pastor who took us through our marriage counseling had a saying: “It’s not about compatibility, it’s commitment.” He emphasized that as long as both of us were in it for the long haul, we could last, despite our inherent differences in character. I agree with Dr. Saltz’s cautionary mindset regarding a fear of commitment because I think it’s a part of a couple being on the same page about the future. On the other hand, I also think that being committed to the same person in a long-term way is a big enough deal to warrant some apprehension. Just last week, JG was telling me about the newest episode of House, where one of the doctors commented that those who fear commitment are those who truly understand it and its weight. So, maybe it doesn’t make sense not to be afraid, at least a little bit.

Gail Saltz, commitment, fear

There is no other way to say it: I was really crabby on Saturday. Between a small get-together JG and I attended on Friday and an 8:30 meeting on Saturday morning that felt much earlier than it actually was, I had not had enough time to unwind and rest my brain. When that happens, I become irritable and my patience wanes. By the time JG and I got home on Saturday, I was in a fine state. Everything was aggravating me: my shoe untied itself, I kept slipping in the driveway, the wind blew my hair in my face, and JG loaded the dishwasher incorrectly. Again! I was sullen and silent during lunch and JG peered at me, concerned. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes.”
“Can I do anything for you?”
“No, I just need to read and be quiet this afternoon.”
“Oh. Okay.”

I tried to sound as reasonable as possible, but I knew that my claws were close to the surface. I avoided saying much of anything so that I would have less chance of snapping JG’s head off. Even worse, JG was planning to take me out to a new restaurant for dinner and I was sure that he didn’t plan on me being all edgy for the evening.

Over the next few hours, I made like a hermit and wrapped myself in a blanket in a corner of the couch. I read a good portion of my current book, worked on a few small items on the to-do list, and took a nap. The tightness in my muscles uncoiled; my mind quieted. I felt ready to make dinner conversation and show JG how much I was looking forward to our evening together. As JG played his video game, I slid down the couch to sit next to him and whispered, “Thanks for putting up with my crankiness today. I’m better now.”

He paused and then said, “Are you really okay, though?”

I nodded. “I just needed time for my mind to recover from all of the busy-ness from before. I’m back to my normal self now!” And I planted a big kiss on his cheek.

JG gave me a shifty look. “Greeeeeeeeeat.”

couples, cranky, daily life

JG and I are a nicely diverse couple. He is a Caucasian, all-American boy-next-door from small-town Pennsylvania; I’m a tiny Asian girl from New England. I’ve had my share of dealing with racial stereotypes, but I’m grateful that being of different backgrounds hasn’t had huge effects on our marriage. However, this aspect of our relationship does tend to bring up unique situations when dealing with our families.

In January, my mom told me that JG and I were invited to celebrate Chinese New Year at my grandmother’s house in New York. We’d spend the weekend with my grandmother, my parents, and my sister, enjoying traditional things like a Mongolian hot pot dinner and accepting red envelopes of money. I didn’t exactly jump at the offer, mostly because the thought of planning a road trip to New York and navigating through a weekend of family duties was more than I wanted to handle. We had never emphasized Chinese New Year as an important holiday in our family, so I didn’t know how to gauge the significance of going. Plus, when my mom says that we’re “invited,” it’s usually safe to assume that we’re expected to come.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t savor the thought of going and I hated to take away a whole weekend from JG, especially one that included a day off for Presidents’ Day. He left the decision up to me and it was nice that he didn’t pressure me either way, but deciding whether or not we were going to have fun for two whole days weighed me down. It’s not that my family isn’t fun, but simply not wanting to do something isn’t a viable excuse to bow out. I also felt the pressure from my mom to make her look good; if JG and I didn’t show, it would reflect poorly on her more so than on us. I wasn’t confident in teasing apart my deep-seated sense of family obligation from an opportunity to visit my grandmother that would be draining, time-consuming, and stressful. I know that I can’t do what I want all the time, but I was torn because I wanted to want to do this for my family. The truth was that I simply didn’t.

Last week, I called my grandmother to let her know that JG and I wouldn’t be joining her and the rest of the family for the weekend. I was careful to avoid saying, “We can’t make it,” which would have been a lie. Guilt stung me when my grandmother protested, “Oh, why not? I was expecting you there!” I explained, however inadequately, that we had not had a weekend to ourselves since before Christmas, we had both caught colds, and I was afraid that we had been too busy. I could tell that she was disappointed and I accepted the fact that she would probably ask my parents why JG and I weren’t there. To my mom’s credit, though, she took the news well and resisted any temptation to persuade me otherwise. I was grateful for that.

On the Friday at the end of a fun but tiring week, I know I made the right decision. This weekend, we need our own bed and a quiet dinner to ourselves, not a long, unfamiliar drive and furrowed brows. It’s small consolation, though, because sometimes the right call just doesn’t feel good.

marriage, in-laws, Chinese New Year, family gatherings

I think it’s safe to say that yesterday was the best Valentine’s Day that I’ve ever had. Due to the trifecta of snow, sleet, and freezing rain, I opted to work from home - I am a total wimp about driving in bad weather - and even better, JG had a snow day from school! I was so grateful that I could chat with JG throughout the day and eat lunch with him, even though I was working. I stayed in my pajamas all day and took a brief break to frost some dark chocolate cupcakes I had made for JG. Oh, they were amazing.

JG did such a good job selecting a card for me, which can be difficult because I have high standards, and I received two gorgeous cookbooks that I had been coveting. There will be a lot of browsing, sticky-noting, and drooling for me this weekend. I took great pride in giving JG a packet of twelve coupons toward various baked goods, like coffee cake and jumbo cookies, that will expire next Valentine’s Day. He also unwrapped a video game, exclaiming, “You got me a video game? You’re the best wife ever.” Even as I type this, he’s breaking in the game and I love that he loves it.

The best part, though, was dinner. JG made one of my favorite dishes, penne vodka with seared scallops, and during the meal, I realized how lovely and romantic the setting was. Two candles cast dancing shadows on a drinking glass of supermarket roses, good food on our everyday plates, and an animated face across the table. JG and I talked about things like the best way to organize his volleyball team to go to a camp this summer and how we should plan to take a day off together next month. There was a moment during dinner when I realized anew how much fun we have together and that it makes up for any lack of extravagance. I think that’s pretty great.

I’ve mentioned before that Valentine’s Day isn’t a major holiday at our house and I’ll stick with that story. At the same time, I love that we were able to make the occasion fun and special for us, and hey - being snowed in didn’t hurt, either.

Valentine’s Day, romance, cupcake

Around this time last year, JG was earning some extra pennies by teaching two sections of a prep course for the math section of the SAT. Every Tuesday for 6 weeks, he stayed after school to teach from 3-5 and 6-8, which meant that he left home at 6:30 in the morning and didn’t return until almost 9 at night. JG ate lunch and dinner out of plastic containers and basically went straight to bed when he got home. It was rough.

Oh, and Valentine’s Day fell on a Tuesday.

Even though I appreciate romance to a certain extent, celebrating Valentine’s Day after almost 13 hours of work is just silly. “I’m so glad you’re back from school, dear – hey! Where are my dozen roses?!” Seriously, who would even say that?

Instead, I got to work on a project in the kitchen while JG was out at school, trying to time it so that I was ready when he came home. I got myself all set up when I heard the car door slam.

“I’m home, dear. Hey, it smells like bread around here … what did you do?”
“I’m in the kitchen!” I called.

JG walked in – a bit cautiously, I might add – and there I was, holding a freshly-baked Valentine:

For my husband, a Valentine made of chocolate chip coffee cake was pretty hard to beat.

Valentine’s Day, coffee cake, romance

Yesterday, I gave an introduction to the idea of love languages (Words of Affirmation, Meaningful Touch, Acts of Service, Gifts, and Quality Time), which was the topic of a presentation that JG and I recently attended. At the end, the speaker invited all of us to assess our own love language, identify our partner’s, and then compare notes.

JG’s love language was easy enough for me to guess – Acts of Service. Most people demonstrate love in the way in which they’d prefer to receive it; JG’s tendency toward tangible acts, like the summer when he painted no less than six rooms in our house, is a strong indicator in this direction.

I found that assessing my own love language was harder. I didn’t feel as though any one of the five was particularly indicative of me, which was slightly unnerving. I felt a little better when JG cocked an eye at me and said, “I think you’re a combination of Words of Affirmation and Meaningful Touch.” Well, that has a certain ring to it. I love to send people actual mail and I usually keep anything people send me. I always look to be hugged when I’m distressed; JG’s height has always been comforting to me because he just wraps around me.

Okay, now, what?

The ideal course of action is to demonstrate love to the other person in the way that is most appropriate, but like so many other things, it’s easier said than done. I would much rather write JG a note, but he would rather shovel the walk for me. If we both speak in our native languages, it doesn’t work out. Just before I sat down to write out this post, I had a strong reminder of how great the challenge of speaking in a foreign love language can really be.
(more…)

Last week, JG and I attended a presentation based loosely on The Five Love Languages, by Gary Chapman. I have not read the book, so I can’t necessarily recommend it; however, I think the principles expressed in the presentation were thought-provoking and practical.

The premise of love languages is that people have a certain way in which they most often give and prefer to receive love. In general terms, the five love languages are the following:

Words of Affirmation
- Affirmation that encompasses the spoken word (on the phone or in person) and the written word (notes or letters)

Meaningful Touch
- Comforting gestures to convey protection or affection; does not necessarily point to sex

Acts of Service
- Tangible expressions of helpfulness like housework or projects

Gifts
- Special tokens of appreciation

Quality Time
- Time spent together intentionally

Catering to your partner’s love language would be the most effective way to demonstrate love, but problems can arise when a couple does not have a common love language. In a marriage retreat where our presenter delivered a similar talk, not one of the 25 couples in attendance shared the same love language. The disconnect that occurs is similar to the confusion and mistranslation for people who actually speak different languages. For example, if a person’s love language is Acts of Service but he keeps receiving gifts, the gestures may not register as loving; he may simply feel showered with dust catchers, which is frustrating, if not hurtful.

Learning how to convey love to another person in the most effective way is a long-term challenge. I am just now starting to realize how this idea applies in my life – more on this tomorrow.

What’s your love language?

love language, couples, differences

February 14 falls on a Wednesday this year and, for most of us, that includes the harsh reality of going to school or work the next day. Weeknights don’t exactly fit in with a conventional Valentine’s Day plan of a candlelit dinner, dancing, and all that implies. If it’s not feasible to take a random day off from your normal life on February 15, here are a few ideas to make February 14 a bright spot in the middle of your week.

Leave fun notes
Last year, on Valentine’s Day, JG had to teach an evening class at school, so he was going to be there from 7am to 9pm, which didn’t leave room for much else. I bought a package of Suzy’s Zoo valentines and hid them all over the place: his coat pockets, computer bag, lunch bag, and planner. Several weeks later, he actually found one that escaped his clutches, but I’m sure that getting a valentine in March wasn’t all that bad.

Get up early for breakfast
Breakfast in bed has always been touted an uber-romantic gesture, but I have always thought that it was sort of awkward. Even if you have a bed tray, what if you bump it? Then you have orange juice all over the bed and hot food in your lap! Maybe breakfast in bed is simply not intended for the clumsy. Anyway, the point is that even if you meet up at a diner to have an omelet, seeing each other first thing in the day will make the occasion special. I don’t think we’ll partake in this one because JG operates on teacher time, so he leaves the house around the time that I’m just waking up. Another facet of this weekday Valentine’s Day is to know your limits; getting up to have breakfast before 5:30 is one of mine.

Have a picnic in the living room
When dinner reservations can be a precious commodity, a picnic at home can be quieter, less expensive, and more fun. Spread out a blanket on the floor, maybe in front of a fire, if you’re in a cold-weather climate. Pop open a nice bottle of wine, champagne, or sparkling cider and have a home-cooked meal together. If cooking is not a strong point, look up local places that will deliver prepared entrées, whip up a salad, and buy chocolate for dessert. The important thing is to enjoy the time together in enjoying, and maybe even creating, the food.

Go all out with a double Valentine’s weekend
Perhaps a mid-week Valentine’s Day means more celebration! Claim the weekend before and after the 14th to celebrate together. Perhaps one weekend could be a quiet dinner out and a romantic comedy at the multiplex for her and the next could be arcade games and a sports bar for him. The weekends might be a good time to retrace big milestones in your relationship, like recreating a first date or going to the skating rink where you met. Use your imagination and have fun!

Valentine’s Day, romance, couples, love notes, breakfast, picnic

Lucky for me, JG is very good at shopping for me at special occasions. He knows that I don’t like chocolate and that I would much prefer new books over a piece of jewelry, so I rarely need to give JG hints about what I’d like to receive. He takes note of what’s on my Amazon wish list, new releases of albums or books from artists or authors I enjoy, and things I wouldn’t buy for myself.

This year, I encountered something that I couldn’t resist adding to the suggestion box and sent JG a quick e-mail:

Hey there -

- RA

I get zero points for subtlety, I know, but lots of points for effectiveness. I’ve learned that gentle hints don’t work on JG; despite his love for Sudoku and Cryptoquotes, he’d prefer not to have to solve the puzzle for the privilege of buying me something. Besides, if JG buys me this book light, I don’t have to turn on my shining beacon of a bedside lamp if I want to read after he’s fallen asleep. This suggestion is also for his benefit, you see.

Valentine’s Day, gifts, book light, hint