I read the PostSecret blog every week and last week there was a secret about somebody in their 50s feeling trapped and wanting to start over “alone.” It made me sad that they felt that way but it also made me sad for the people in this person’s life. I can understand if it were a 50 year old who was in a bad relationship and wanted to get out, but surely there’s somebody in this person’s life that they want to take with them. And if they’re in a stale marriage with someone they used to love but they feel like they need a change, why can’t they start over together? Why can’t they take an adventure? Why can’t they at least give it a shot first? shake things up. together.

I guess I’ve just seen a recent wave of 20 year marriages ending and they didn’t seem particularly “sick” or anything. They just sort of… Ended. *pfluh* I feel like there was just a loss of fun, a need for newness. I hope that when/if Chuck or I feel this way, we can talk about it. We can see that we can always grow and always change. It seems odd and “well, everyone thinks that until it’s them” of me, but I don’t really see divorce as an option. I just don’t. One of my college professors said something like, is it worth it to start over with someone else when everyone, you, me, her, him all do annoying little things? Everyone is annoying. Everyone will do things to annoy you. Is it really worth it to end a marriage because you’re sick of this one person when you’ll find a new person who does something else to annoy you? Maybe annoy is too simple a word but I feel like that’s sometimes what it comes down to. The next person may not leave toenail clippings in the bed but they might leave the air conditioning on full blast every time they drive your car (I hate that!).

And maybe it’s because I’m weak. In The Departed, Matt Damon’s character says, “If we’re not going to make it, it’s got to be you that gets out. I’m not capable… I’m fuckin’ Irish, so I’ll deal with something being wrong for the rest of my life.” And maybe it’s because he identifies that with being Irish* or maybe I’m just that stubborn anyway but I’m pretty much the same way. I stick with people. I won’t take abuse from you, but I will stick with you. I stick with my people until the end (that includes Pants and Scratchy). I certainly encourage growth and communication and compromise in any relationship. I won’t be a doormat (let’s not re-visit younger Becky, please) and I’m not advocating for anyone to be a doormat. I want everyone to be happy but I’m also loyal and I know there are good times and there are teh badz times. You just can’t be happy and just right and wonderful every second of every day and nobody will be able to do that for you either. I think we all need to be fair to you, to me, to your commitments. I certainly try to be.

I read an innocent comment on one of the social media sites those kids are frequenting lately from a woman who says she and her husband “never fight.” Then a bunch of other people said they never fought either. I started thinking about my relationships. And thinking about what was wrong with me and basically if I should set everything on fire. I started into a downward spiral of evaluating my relationships (every single one, most non-romantic) and deciding that I might be a horrible person because I fight with every single person I know. I came to the conclusion that I don’t believe there is a relationship ever that has not contained one fight or we’re defining the word “fight” differently.

You’ve never disagreed with your husband in 10 years. Are both of you alive? Is one of you incapable of communication? Do you have several tumors filled with rage in your chest cavity???? I wish people wouldn’t say things like that. I really, super, really wish that people would think before saying, “I never fight with my husband” because YOU ARE FUCKING WITH MY BRAIN!!!

In six years of knowing Chuck we have had one million and seven fights. I’ve been counting. One million of the fights I have been right, 500,000 of them I have conceded he might have a point and the majority of them have been about stupid things. When I say the word “fight,” I mean we don’t agree. I don’t agree with a lot of people and I will tell them about it. I’m not a confrontational person but I argue a lot with everyone, even if it’s just teasey. I see most things from different points of view and I’m also very empathetic but I like to “discuss” things. I feel like it’s healthy and lovely and a really good thing.

It drives me in-fucking-sane when people don’t communicate. You know Romeo and Juliet? I mean, not like personally, but the story? TOTAL BULLSHIT! Why can’t you motherfuckers talk to each other? Why can’t you make a goddamn plan together? WHY ARE THERE SO MANY SECRETS AND LIES??????

I think this is a big part of the reason I don’t dig the chick flicks. There’s always some sort of utterly, utterly tragic miscommunication that the whole fucking thing’s based upon and then they die or they’re magically happy. What the fuck ever. I’m serious. I’m not even joking. I DID NOT SEE TITANIC! That’s how serious I am. (This may or may not have anything to do with the current webarticle. How could I know, I didn’t see the goddamn movie.) (I’m just sayin.)

Guess what? I was the one who winked at Chuck on the dating site. That’s right. If you like a boy, tell the motherfucker. If you want the last piece of cake, eat that motherfucker. I say things. Not rude things or mean things but I say shit to people. Like right to their goddamn faces. Like I’m all like, “Hey! I have something to say to you!” and then I motherfucking say it. I just had to tell one of my employees to stop leaving scabs on the counter behind a community computer. I did it tactfully and not in front of people. Just laying it out there, “The products from your body stay on your body or they go in an appropriate receptacle.” It had to be done. And it did not need to be whispered about behind her back.

If you like mooning over a kid across the room for several years without doing anything, that’s your prerogative and my middle school years but it’s also your fault. He don’t know. He over there being all, “I’m hungry. I wish somebody would give me a blow jay later.” You know what? That somebody could be you! Take charge of your life.

Once I decided to just do me, I felt so free. What’s the worst that can happen? (probably you could die)

*some people are ir, I’m just a little Irish.