Dita Parker

Friday, November 11, 2011

The choice is yours

I love my job. I love Hubby's job, too. I wouldn't survive it for a minute. Then again, he couldn't write to save his life. He wouldn't stop as long as his heart beat in his chest, though. He would die trying, my hot man from the cold.

His hours are far from conventional, and that's okay. In fact, it's a bonus. We've had a steamy office romance going for as long as I've worked from home. What? Tsk. As if you wouldn't take advantage of the situation. Born to be mild or wild, moaner/screamer/do you want to get arrested, you would if you had kids and the constant prospect of interruption that comes with the package.

But the surest way to put out a fire is to deprive it of oxygen. So tonight I'll step out for some air and spend the evening with two women I'm absolutely demented about, women who love me as Hubby does, for me, women I love, admire and respect with all my heart.

You can't be all things to one person. No one person will ever fulfill all your needs. Expect that and set yourself up for disappointment. I wouldn't survive doing what Hubby does because I haven't got and never will have the skills and knack for it. I don't understand half of what it involves. It doesn't mean I can't be interested in what he does, appreciative of the fact that it's his chosen profession, thankful someone's at it because it can be stressful and demanding and laden with responsibility. 

What I'm truly grateful for is that he has people who understand exactly what he's talking about if he needs to talk about it with someone, and that I have people to unload to so I don't have to dump it all at his feet and watch his gaze glaze over as I talk shop. It takes nothing away from what we have together. If anything, it adds a very important layer to the relationship, one I consider all-important, the one where we belong together, yes, but where we don't belong to one another, exist for one another, are the other's only reason to live.

Marriage, or any other serious relationship, say friendship, is such a paradox. It's supposed to be a source of joy and enjoyment. So why does it sometimes feel like so much work? Where's the fun? Wasn't it supposed to be fun and fulfilling? Here's a thought: It's all of that, too. Chances are you're not married/friends for money, security, convenience or any other particular reason other than you choose to be. You want to be. 

And nothing requires more strength of will and determination than something you choose to do of your own volition. That's why marriage, and friendship, can sometimes feel like so much work. It's a choice you have to make every day. And unless you are absolutely free to make that decision, unless you have choices and you choose them above all others, you can't commit yourself heart, body and soul.

Told you. A paradox. Sorry if I lost you. My intentions are, as always, good; doubly so on a Frisky Friday. Feel free to comment, dissent, nod in agreement. Just promise you'll think about it, and that you won't be too upset with me if I don't immediately get back to you, because tonight yours truly madly deeply and partners in crime will burn this town.

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