The Center of the Universe

I have a bit of romance in my life right now. It's rather delicious. There are restrictions that don't allow full expression of what would be lovely to have expressed, but it's a semi-complicated issue of being outside of one's area code.

I've always loved the beginning. But what often happens, for me anyway, is the first 6 months is spent completely in the company of the other. The other is the only person we actually want to spend time with. All the other relationships we have in our lives end up going to the wayside because we have this new love. This new joy. This new bit of life breathed into us.

And it's not just the other relationships we have that fall away; all the other bits of our life that make up who we are as individuals go too. We, and when I say we I'm really talking about me, give up the all the creative bits, the hanging out with friends, the personal growth. We succumb to the fine art of playing house. Keep in mind the Easy Bake Oven, still to this day, was my favourite present of all time. Playing house delights the little 8 year old inside me. With the added intimacy and romance redolent in the beginning, it also delights the 16 year old lurking within who's prone to hyper-romanticism.

I was raised on Disney.

I realised during the demise of my second marriage how I bought into the poor-girl-from-shit-circumstances-who-gets-swept-away-by-Prince-Charming's appeal. And they lived happily ever after.

With bills.
With doctor's appointments.
With too much alcohol.
With the accusation of flirting with others.
With despondency.
With mental/emotional abandonment.
With not being an effective support system.
With name calling.
With silence.

Slam. Once the door is closed no one knows anything, remembers anything... but you.

All of us are scared right now. Anyone who has been in a relationship absolutely, vehemently does not want to repeat the past. We learned our lessons; we want to move on. We want perfection. We want a signed guarantee that the next person will never fuck up. Never disappoint. Never give us reason to stray. That we would never give them a reason to stray.

Yesterday I visited Giuseppe, my ex-boss, and his wife, whom I both adore, at the restaurant I used to love working at. He hadn't left for Abruzzo yet. He's on a plane, probably as I am typing this. There was a meter of snow that fell in Italy. This hasn't happened since 1956. They brought in the military. Well, whatever dregs they could pull together who are not in Iraq. We had a nice talk, just like we used to. We talked about:

Life
Lessons
Marriage
Love
How the center of the Universe resides directly in the hearts of every man and woman.

Months ago, when even the thought of being with someone else made me physically ill, Giuseppe and I would talk about the outdated model of marriage. I told him that marriage simply didn't make sense anymore. He told me that he and his charming wife had not survived 25 years together because of a piece of paper. Exactly. But they were still together. Still laughing together. Still each other's best friends. Still an inordinate amount of love between them, even if they know they can't work together.

One night, when I still worked there, I was taking a dinner order at table adjacent to the open kitchen. Pen poised, straining to hear a customer order the caprese salad, the order was interrupted by Giuseppe and his delightful wife, within the open confines of the kitchen's line, screaming at each other.

You see? This is why I can't work with you!
Fuck you!
Yeah? Va fangul! (translation: go fuck yourself up your own ass)

The Comrade: Oh! Mom and Dad are fighting again.

Yesterday they were killing themselves laughing over this one Italian phrase, which neither could write out, otherwise I would have lovingly transcribed it. The translation would be: Eat the snatch of your aunt's dead sister. And The Comrade added: Who's been dead for 5 days in a warm room.

There are just some people that deserve each other.

Perfect?
To me, yes.

I love a boy
Who with the more I know about him,
The more I embrace.

He brings out the best in me.
He challenges my worst.
He understands my relationship with Ack, the ex-husband/ best friend.
Through making me laugh, he understood he has a sense of humour.
He likes to argue.
He's a yeller.
We have the same political views.
We have similiar musical bents.
He is beautiful.
He makes me feel like I'm 16 again.

And no one can give any guarantee that it will work out or not. That's not life. That's not living. We have to just relearn to allow our own Centers of the Universe to lead us. Into temptation. For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory.

There are just some people that deserve each other.

Perfect?
To me, yes.