Wednesday, May 7, 2008

A Two-Step Into the Rest of Our Lives

The DNB and I aren't exactly a wizened old married couple, but we've been together for seven years. And in all that time, we've had probably three fights. Not three actual fights, but the subjects of our fights are always and forever the same.

He forgets things. I have to base my life around his schedule. I could maybe, possibly, not tell him every little thing he does that annoys me.

That's it, the end. In some ways, it's unfortunate that in all this time, we haven't managed enough personal growth to overcome our respective issues. But in others, it's enormously comforting to realize that at least we know there are few, if any, schizophrenic tendencies and seemingly no ever-changing barrage of personality flaws.

It's a dance we do. I say, "Did you put the trash out?" And he says, "No, not yet." And I say, "If you don't do it now, you'll forget." And he says, "I won't forget, just let me do it when I want to." And I say, "You're going to forget. Why don't you put a note on the door so you'll remember?" And he says, in that Dr. Cox tone that makes me want to kick him in the head, "Oh. My. God. Just leave me alone." And then the next day the trash cart sits by our fence, full and forgotten.

I try to be helpful, but it's just nagging. He tries to remember, but doesn't.

We change, but never enough.

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