Introducing a new person into your life

When I met Date #4, I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I was simply mixing a little business with pleasure when my online dating research yielded a surprising result – a dateable, attractive man with whom I was compatible. My life was run at a hectic, but efficient and highly effective pace. There simply wasn’t a whole lot of room. I liked it that way.

Things started slowly. I told him I wasn’t looking for anything serious, that I was, ahem, very busy and important. No time for a relationship, not looking for that sort of thing. He said he understood, respected my priorities, etc.

Then I fell in love with him.

The “serious” thing needed revising, obviously. As two people are apt to do when they find they enjoy one another’s company, we spent a lot of time together. 

A lot.

I stopped running. I stopped blogging as regularly. I stopped doing laundry and grocery shopping. I was deep in Cloud Cuckoo Land, as I like to call it. That place where newly formed couples spend way too long looking into each other’s eyes, sleeping really late on weekends, and having lots and lots of hot monkey sex. 

As much as I knew this was going to happen, I couldn’t stop it. Perhaps I didn’t want to stop it. What the hell? Falling in love is fantastic. Why skip all the fun stuff and move straight into routine? 

Incorporating Date #4 into my life isn’t the same as making a new friend or having a relative move into town. This is someone that I hope to have a meaningful relationship with. Anyone who has been in a relationship for a period of time knows that it takes time to get to know someone. I liked Date #4 and I wanted to learn about him – that takes time. Granted, you can take your time getting to know someone, but I tend to be an extremist with a “good” button instead of an “easy” button. If it makes me feel good or happy, I’ll slam that damn button till it’s broke. Luckily, I didn’t do that here.

Armed with a little bit of knowledge of myself and my habits, I tried to resist Cloud Cuckoo Land, but it was simply too alluring. GIWS and I had managed to see each other only once a week, twice tops, throughout the few months we dated. I tried to do this again, but to no avail.

When I got sick (again), my frustration reared its head. I had gained 5 lbs. I was completely out of racing shape. I’d been eating entire meals out of the vending machines at work. Thanks to my fourth sinus infection this year, I was waylaid and unable to stay awake long enough to do anything other than go to work. I reached my breaking point when my libido disappeared. WTF?!

A week later, I got better and I got some perspective. Date #4 and I have been together for only two months. I realized that I could maintain my old schedule and kick him out of my life or I could find a new routine. That period of everything going to hell was just a slash-and-burn method of prepping the soil for a new life. One that involves the man that I love and all the activities I love.

What I ended up having to do was first explain to him what was going on in my head. He understood and didn’t take it personally at all, which was essential for me to feel comfortable moving forward. I explained to him that there are a lot of things I enjoy doing that I haven’t been doing lately, and that I need a routine or schedule in order to make it all fit into my life.

I looked at my schedule, needs and priorities. I looked at his schedule, needs and priorities. He has two dogs, so he can’t stay over too often. I live out of the way of my work and his house, so I have to bring all my stuff for work if I’m staying over. It made more sense to do all that if I were staying two nights in a row. For both of our sanity and respect of personal space, I decided two nights apart would be good for us. Thus, a schedule emerged. I would stay with him Wednesdays and Thursdays, and he would stay with me on Tuesdays and Fridays. Sundays and Mondays we had off, and Saturdays I left to whim (even I don’t try to plan everything).

I make sure to bring my running shoes to his place and try to take the dogs out with me. I also run on the evenings we’re not seeing each other. The beginning of the week can be overwhelming for me, so that’s why I picked those two days to spend apart. It gives me the time to work on my blog, get my clothes ready for the week, and to generally spend time with myself, which I think is important in any relationship.

Once I identified the problem and communicated that to him, I was able to then ask, what now? How can I have both – him and my old life? Planning the nights was a great first step. It allows me to plan what will need to happen and when. The other stuff is simply up to me. Once I finished the relay marathon I had spent months training for in May, I had a hard time staying motivated, so I signed up for a race on July 4 and started looking for more to keep me running.

Maybe this is easy for some people to figure out, but I was really happy being single. My life was happy and whole when I met Date #4, so much in fact that if it weren’t for my sister’s sage advice to not let opportunities pass me by, I probably wouldn’t have made the leap.

I’m glad that I did, but that period of transition can be tough. I think it’s important to be honest with yourself, to communicate your frustration without laying any blame, and to get into the solution. Dwelling in the problem while I was sick yielded nothing but a depressing blog post (sorry!). Once I decided to try a solution, I was already feeling like my old self and it didn’t take long to get back on track.

Oh, and my libido came back. Thank god.

[Photo credit: Evan Romine]

Questioning the Quarter-Life Crisis

Hey, everyone. I know it's been a long time since I've posted. I'm getting over (yet another) sinus infection. I read an article on Brazen Careerist this morning about quarter-life crises and left a comment so lengthy, I figured it might as well be a blog entry.

I'm not sure I believe in "quarter life crises." I do think that (more than perhaps before) our generation is having a hard time with the transition to true adulthood. I know I thought I had arrived at adulthood when I was living with a long-time boyfriend in my own apartment with a great job at 23. I was wearing suits and holding conference calls and grocery shopping for two. I was playing "life," but I wasn't really doing it. I was still thinking and acting immaturely. I was 25 when my "crisis" began, a painful period of realization, deconstruction and transformation. It took a year, but I finally grew up. So, here's the comment I left:

"My own "quarter life crisis" happened right on time - 25. For me, it was spurred on by the realization that I was an alcoholic and needed help. Everything else changed, too, though. I was laid off, my boyfriend and I broke up, I moved out of our townhouse, and my car blew up... within a month.

Now that's extreme, but I've found with my friends also that these crises have a pattern: malaise/a feeling of inertia preceding a life-impacting event followed by a period of transformation. Having gone through that extreme example before most of my friends hit their crisis stage, I've sort of counseled a few of them through it.

Here's what I've found: We've had a prolonged adolescence. Despite paying my way through college and living on my own, I still have an "emergency card" that my mom pays. I used this for about a year when I ran out of money before my next pay period. For some reason, this life-changing event (whether it's getting sober or finally moving out of your parents' house or breaking up with your significant other) sparks a period of transformation. We begin to finally replace the ideas we questioned in college with ideas of our own. We start to make bold decisions on our own. We take proverbial leaps of faith in our lives. In short, we mature.

That's all a quarter-life crisis is - a painful period of maturation. I don't know about you, but nobody told me it would be so difficult. It's been like tearing down a house little by little until all your left with it the frame. Then there's a period of reconstruction. If you are painstaking in this period of your life, it will serve you well down the line.

My own "crisis" lasted about a year. I feel as if I'm just coming out of it. I learned so much, about life and about myself. My advice is not to just try to glean over it. Examine it, spend time on it. Tear down your house, imagine the perfect mature version of yourself and then do the actions. That's the hardest part - the mundane crap, like paying the bills on schedule, schlepping out of bed at 6 am to get to work on time, and skipping happy hour to go for a run. That's real life. That's what we have such a hard time adjusting to.

We're all just growing up. Finally."

When "Relaxation" Becomes Plain Lazy

I’m staring back at my reflection wearily. I’ve just finished washing my face for bed when I realize why I’m so tired of looking at myself in the mirror every night. It smacks me it comes back so suddenly. This is what you looked like before you got a grip, I remember.

There’s a lack of color here. There’s been a lack of color since… since… when did it fade? Somewhere around falling in love and completing my relay marathon only a month ago. I used that week after the race to “reward myself.” I let myself eat poorly and slack off on my training… way off. As in, didn’t do it all.

That week has yawned into a month.

I can feel the little roll at tummy when I slump in my bad posture. It isn’t just that my face has lost color and that I have probably put on two or three pounds. I haven’t been sleeping enough, not what I call a healthful amount. I haven’t been going to enough meetings and I can feel that my spiritual well-being is affected. I’ve been eating entire meals out of the vending machine at work.

This isn’t the dark cloud of grief that rolled overhead back at the beginning of April. This is laziness. Knowing how to pick myself up and not being willing to do the work to bring that about. In my 12-step program, we say that when the pain is enough, we will act.

Luckily my threshold for pain has become amazingly low. Tonight, one glance in the mirror does the trick. I’m tired of being lazy, I assert to my innermost self. This sucks. Let’s quit this shit and get on with the rest of it.

I could go on and on as to why this has happened – work has been slow and uninspiring, a new relationship needs attention, there are things to do besides train for races that are months away. Excuses. Excuses I’ve been willing to make and accept because I am lazy and unmotivated. So here I am. Out of racing shape, pallid faced with an upset stomach and three pounds heavier. I’ve even been reduced to participating in pointless blog commenting, something I usually have enough serenity to not get involved in.

This one is all on me. I’ve written before about accountability partners and the wonders they can work for helping you to stay motivated. That’s fine and well, unless you stop calling them… especially when you want to avoid being, er… accountable.

In the past I could spend an entire blog post on how I’m going to pull my shit together, exactly what I’ll do and in what order to get things back on track, reassure you the reader that I am indeed doing it. And then promptly sit on my ass for two more weeks before I finally follow through. I won’t do that here. I’m not sure when my motivation will come back to me or when exactly I’ll decide that it’s been enough.

I think I just did though.

I Do - For Seven Years

Last week, Adam Gilbert wrote a post on marriage that drew a veritable firestorm of comments. With a whopping 50 percent of marriages ending in divorce these days, one does begin to wonder what purpose the marriage contract serves realistically in today’s society. I thought it would be an interesting subject to discuss with the BF, considering his background in anthropology and his profession in law. He brought up an interesting concept – a seven-year marriage contract.

The man is brilliant, but not that brilliant. This is a concept that has been around for a while. That famous image of Marilyn Monroe standing over the subway grate holding her dress down – that’s from the “Seven Year Itch,” a movie about the phenomenon of married couples growing bored at the seven-year mark. Last September, a German politician suggested that the government actually allow a seven-year civil union contract, which drew international feather-ruffling.

I was immediately intrigued. Think of all the problems this could solve, I thought. For one thing, with 50 percent of all marriages ending in prolonged divorces, it sure would make things a lot less painful for both parties. For those of us entering into the marriage state believing that this will last, however, that probably isn’t the reason you would choose the seven-year contract.

I liked that it would be a reaffirmation of your commitment to one another. Every seven years you would ask yourself, “Is this still the right person for me?” Imagine how incredibly powerful that affirmation would be for the continued growth and life of your marriage.

I would love to see what the statistics would look like on the treatment you receive from your significant other around the six-year mark as well. I would guess that you might see your spouse become more attentive to you, knowing that the contract is up for renegotiation soon. Indeed, it’s one of my fears about marriage that after X number of years, you fall into such a comfort zone that you don’t really try anymore. I’ve watched couples grow inattentive, selfish, even downright mean as the years stretch on in a marriage. Somehow there’s a mindset (not always, but in these cases) that now that you’re married, it doesn’t really matter how polite you are to your significant other. After all, they’re committed. Having a contract would eliminate this, or give the offended party an out if it didn’t.

I like the idea that neither party is obligated to remain in the relationship. I know the outcry from the happily married community will be, “It’s not an obligation when you love the person!” But my fear would be that either party would feel obligated to remain in the marriage. After all, you’ve made a vow in front of your family, friends, deity of your choice to remain married forever. That’s a lot of pressure. Some people can (and do) crack under the idea of ‘forever.’ It’s kind of like how I stay sober – one day at a time. You ask me to stay sober for the rest of my life – I’d be cracking a bottle of wine by noon. I could see myself saying yes to seven years. Then after seven years, re-upping for another go around, and so on and so on.

I see the flipside of that token – neither party is obligated. Some people have argued that if neither party is committed to remaining for better or for worse, then you never feel the security of marriage. You or both of you never really feel secure in the relationship. You live with constant competition from the outside, a feeling that nothing is set in stone, that the seven years you are investing could be all there is. Your spouse could hold it over you – “If you don’t stop/start doing X, Y or Z then I’m not going to renew our contract.”

Perhaps worse than the feeling of obligation would be the possibility of one or the other riding the contract out for the remaining years. Imagine figuring out three or four years into your marriage that it’s not what you wanted. You might think, I’ll just hang on for another three or four years and let it expire. Your spouse might be thinking that without you knowing. If both parties are in this mindset, they might treat each other even worse, knowing that they’re unhappily bound for X more years (not that you couldn’t divorce early, but you might choose not to due to the cost or stigma).

Finally, on the con side, some might enter into the marriage state more lightly with a seven-year stipulation. I could imagine a 22-year-old thinking, Hey, if it doesn’t work out, I’ll only be 29 and I’ll still be able to find someone. Or, it could be a way for gold diggers to catch a free ride for seven years before ditching the poor schmuck. Conversely, it could also be a way for those old horny geezers to protect their assets from said diggers, hedging their bets on whether or not they’ll survive the term.

It’s highly unlikely our government would ever allow such a contract since each state’s government is set up to protect and encourage the marriage state. However, I think you’ll have an interesting conversation with your significant other on the topic. As for me and my significant other, we agreed it would be nice to have some sort of informal agreement at the outset to reevaluate a marriage seven years into it, and either to amicably dissolve or to reaffirm the relationship. For me personally, the merits outweigh the cons. But hey, I’m not there yet.

Make a Goodwill Tour of Your Office, Increase Productivity

My first job was at a start-up of just three people (it grew to a whopping 12 at its largest). At first we didn’t even have separate offices, and as we grew, we upgraded to larger digs with more people crammed two to an office. At a start-up, everyone pretty much knows everything about each other’s lives. It’s not just the office sharing; it’s the long hours, the pent-up stress blowouts, and the commiseration over peeved significant others and your lack of life/sleep.

Things were a little different when I started at my present company, which has approximately 300 employees. My department is made up of only three people (sound familiar?), and we have one large open office. So, like before, we’re pretty much in tune with what’s going on in each other’s lives, without the crazy 60-to-80-hour week crap. (I love trying to figure out how to talk to gyno on the phone with my male boss within earshot. Fun.)

That said, there are nine other departments in my company, with varying numbers in each department (IT has three like us, while advertising has more than 50). I usually only have contact with these people when I need something from them. They don’t really know me from Adam, so I have to wait in line usually like everyone else. But I see the long-timers and the super-friendlies skipping their way to the figurative front of the line all the time. I figured this was just how it went and so be it.

There is a part of corporate life that I don’t always understand. It’s the water cooler conversations. To be honest, I don’t give a crap about American Idol, Let’s Make a Deal or what your kids are doing. The asinine things I would hear people talk about totally escaped me – there are times where what they are saying doesn’t even make sense, jokes with mismatched punch lines, etc.

But I learned how to speak it eventually. The first couple of times I didn’t even understand what I was saying but the coworker chuckled and left. As I caught on, I realized that while I may not care what’s going on in my coworkers’ lives, that connection can be leveraged.

If you aren’t a natural connector or social butterfly, try making a “goodwill tour” of your company. Take an hour or so in the morning, when folks are getting their coffee, checking their e-mail and reading the headlines to ask them how their weekend was, how their kids are, how their week is going so far.

I stopped by one department on Monday to ask a manager if he was feeling any better after being out the prior week. He seemed surprised and was genuine in his thanks for the inquiry. As I left I asked another coworker in that department how his weekend was and how his kids were, knowing how much he values his family. I asked another how her daughter’s graduation went, and made a joke about a woman having more work done than the coworker’s house, which I overhear her complaining about the renovation on.

I used to think these things were enormous productivity blockades and time-wasters. Sometimes they are; but other times it has helped me jump to the head of that proverbial line. How’s that cold, Roy? Oh, good to hear. Listen, I’m having tough time getting these lists…

While it sounds self-serving in some aspects, it’s helped me to get involved in my colleagues’ lives to a healthy extent. I have even built outside relationships with a small handful of them. Sometimes I have to be forced into social situations and increasing productivity and decreasing work downtime is a great motivator for me.

Forget Relaxation - Take A Bliss Break

It’s been suggested that I’m wound a *little* tight. I’ll be the first to admit that I have problems relaxing. I tend to be sort of a black-or-white, stop-or-go kind of person, at least when it comes to my work and myself. For the past five months or so, I haven’t been able to let go of this tension. I’ve sort of had this feeling that I need it to keep going, that somehow relaxing would cause me to lose my momentum. 

On the other hand, I know that I need to relax every now and then; otherwise I won’t be as productive as I could be. And so it has been with this in mind – increased productivity – that I have set about trying to “relax.” Like any good workaholic, I schedule a break. I cordon off a largish chunk of the day and I say this is where I will relax. 

It never works. For some reason all I can think is something along the lines of “Hurry up and relax so we can get revitalized and work better!” It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that not a lot of relaxing gets done this way. And yet, bull-headed and not really knowing any other way of doing it, I keep trying the same thing expecting different results.

So when Date #4 asked if I would like to steal away to his property in the Hill Country for the weekend, I said yes without a second thought. I wondered if it were possible that I could actually unwind finally. Would I be able to release the tension I’d been holding so tightly to me for the past five months?

I won’t lie: I brought my laptop with me and double-checked with D#4 that there would indeed be Internet access. And bless his heart, he let me bring it, warning me that I wouldn’t want it once I got there.

Indeed, as we drove onto smaller-still roads that turned to gravel, I thought two things: one, is he gonna kill me out here; and two, you’d have to get me this far away from things to quiet my mind. I am pleased to report that the majority of the weekend was spent in sleep (10 hours every night for three nights), in bed (ahem), reading fiction (fiction?!), talking, or hiking and swimming.

The weekend was in a word blissful. (Merriam-Webster defines bliss as "complete happiness.") I had let go of every thought of work, this blog, my company… I wasn’t consciously attempting to relax. I had sort of given up on the idea. I finally let go of the part of myself that felt guilty or anxious for indulging in day-long pajama-wearing or 48 hours without e-mail (gasp!).

I came back to work refreshed and ready to tackle a lot of projects I’d been putting off. I was much more focused than I had been (that might have had something to do with all of the sleep I got), and my mind was swirling with new business ideas. And, of course, this post.

What is the most blissful thing you could do for yourself? Maybe it’s as simple as a pedicure, calling in a sick day to go surf, or spending 48 hours in the country. Try to make it happen this weekend. See how much more productive you are on Monday.