What have you done during the courtship/dating process that has gone counter to absolutely every relationship advice column every written? That should never, ever have worked… but did?
On a first date, the guy I was out with talked in great detail about his ex-girlfriend (BIG no-no), the anti-depressants he had taken during college (Um…), and how his current job prospects were absolutely zilch (heh…).
We’ve been together two years and counting.
And some of my own social ineptitude. In high school, I had a wicked crush on this guy. But somewhere around my junior year, the crush inexplicably jumped over to his brother. It was definitely a story book moment when I explained, “I used to really like your brother, but now I like you!”
I met this guy at a nightclub once. We hung out that night, went to IHOP with some friends of mine, where he told me he had no money, so I shared my breakfast with him, but he insisted we order vegetarian (which he was, but I wasn’t). We lived about 40 miles apart, spent the next week pretty much always on the phone, and the next weekend I drove to his place, got a flat tire on the Dan Ryan, got lost due to his lousy directions (there is no “Go East on Montrose” from Lake Shore Drive, nimrod, unless I want to go swimming in the Lake!), so I was several hours late, and the first thing out of his mouth wasn’t a question or concern about my safety and lateness but a very impatient, “Come on! We have to go, the music store’s going to close in a few minutes!”
Yet, for some unfathomable reason, I still slept with him that night, on what I guess was our first date. And a year later I married the nimrod. Been married 7 years now.
I pretty much moved in without asking or in any way discussing with him what I was doing. Not that I thought of it as moving in at the time; I loved spending the night there and started wanting more and more of my stuff to be there, too.
We got married a little over a year ago, maybe six months after I took up residence.
Mr. Woodhouse proposed to me on our 7th date. I said yes. It’s not something I’d want our own kids doing, but it worked for us. We’ve been married almost 15 years.
There was this guy at work. What a jerk! We were both working on location, although from different departments, and he refused to help me carry all my (heavy) stuff and then, when I asked him for help locating some cables, he told me he was too busy. Why hadn’t my supervisor set that up? (Something I myself wondered.) Ask someone else! It wasn’t his job.
God, was I embarrassed. And then for years he never talked to me. I saw him talking to other employees. He seemed so friendly and nice. But he never talked to me. I guess I pissed him off good when I so audaciously asked him for help all those years ago.
Long about 2003 we got to talking, him being so nice and all. I was pretty nice too, and didn’t deserve that grumpy treatment all those years ago, and he was quite sorry he’d been so curt. He’d been trying to send a message to my supervisor that he was sending out people unprepared (I was one in a long line of people asking him where the cable was) and his requests had been falling on deaf ears. He figured if he gave someone else the grumpy treatment, THEY might improve the situation!
So anyway, he apologizes to me and said he felt horrible all those years, which was why he avoided talking to me.
That apology? It just melted my heart! What a sweet guy!
I refused to date this guy for three years. Yes, that’s right–three years. I was afraid (I’d been divorced), he’s a redhead (never dated one before), we had very differing ideas about religion–and mostly I was afraid.
He was nicely persistent, so I finally decided to give dating him a try. Within 18 months we were married, and our fourth anniversary was last week.
I had an acquaintance during college, a guy friend I talked to occasionally but also occasionally avoided when I was feeling freaky and antisocial.
One day he shot me an e-mail, and we started hanging out more. He helped me with some moving, constructing a desk, whatever. We became really good friends, started calling one another ‘‘best friends.’’
I was 19. People were starting to talk about us spending so much time together, and it made me really think about the relationship in a new way. I had NO idea how my friend felt about me, other than obviously we really valued one anothers’ friendship.
So one day I sent him an e-mail and I was like, ‘‘You know what? I’ve fallen in love with you. I could spend the rest of my life with you, easily.’’ I just sort of threw it in there with the usual chatter, made myself hit ‘‘send’’ and let it go.
When I told my Aunt (the relationship sage in my life) she made a :eek: and said, ‘‘Never, EVER tell a guy friend you are in love with him! That is relationship MURDER!’’
But I was like, ‘‘Yeah, but we’re really close. It’ll be okay, even if he doesn’t feel the same way.’’
Well, turns out he felt exactly the same way. We’ve been together over 5 years now, and are working on our second year of marriage as we speak. Probably the smartest move I ever made.
Speaking of which…am I the only one who thought of Jerry Seinfeld suggesting the menage a trois to his SO in the attempt to get rid of her, only it “backfires?”
I got this advice from many sources, too. Do not be the first to mention the word “love,” or you’ll scare the guy off.
But when I finally worked up the nerve to mention the subject of love, my guy was delighted. He married me. A few months ago we celebrated our 27th wedding anniversary. So much for the “don’t talk about love” myth.
I mean, if that’s what you’re looking for, why not be up front? I am passive in just about every aspect of my personality except romance. I’m not a flirty girl, I’m not seductive or coquettish in any way. But if I find a guy I think is worth spending the rest of my whole LIFE with, you can be damned sure I’m taking that chance!
There was this woman once who, when we just started our relationship which was the first time we had sex, told me that she wanted to have children with me.
I kind of blinked a couple of times then decided that she was right. I wanted to have children with her.
My whole marriage has been a bad relationship move…
Relationship with a co-worker? Check.
Got sloshed at the Christmas party? Check.
Slept together on the first date? Check.
Moved in together within a couple of weeks? Check.
We’ve been together for 21 years. Married 14 of them…
Slept with him actually before we managed to have a date at all - so like zero date. Moved in with him after a couple of months of weekend visits. Been married two years this August.
I met this girl in class and somehow started talking about the movie 12 Monkeys, which I had borrowed from a friend months ago and had never watched.
Her: That’s a good movie, but I haven’t seen it in forever. We should watch it sometime.
Me (didn’t really hear her): Yeah, I really should.
Her: We should.
Me: Ohhhhh… Well, sure.
So a week or so later, we watched the movie and we were sitting on the couch with my arm sort of around her waist. I pulled my arm out from behind her, and rolled up the sleeve of the thermal undershirt I was wearing and was like “Hey, look how clearly the pattern of my shirt is pressed into my arm after you were leaning on it!”
Now, she was not overweight at all. I’d say she was about 5’7" and 130 lbs (but I’m terrible at estimating those kinds of things). I could tell she was a little pissed. She said “It’s ok to be fat. At least I’m not obese.”
There was this guy who offered me his shoulder to cry on when I had a bad, messy breakup with an ex-fiance. I blubbered and sobbed for hours into the night to him. I didn’t just take his shoulder, I used up every bit of him as my own personal tissue to wipe my tears and snot all over. Then I made him into my messenger boy. “You tell my ex this!” and “You tell my ex that!” and so on. And he obliged. I yelled, kicked (figuratively) and screamed at him when things didn’t go my way. He just listened. He watched in awe as my moods swung wildly up, down, backward, forward, clockwise and widdershins. I don’t know why he stayed and listened. I was flailing wildly on purpose, because I didn’t want him near me. I didn’t want anybody near me. After months of intolerable, psycho-bitch behaviour from me, he invited me to stay with him a while.
I stopped screaming long enough to agree.
He proposed to me a couple weeks into my stay. I wiped my eyes and blinked. My thoughts went from swirling black miasma into: “Wait… what?”
We’ve been married nearly four years. I stopped screaming about three and a half years back. I’m a calmer, happier person now; barely recognising who I used to be. It’s a little scary.
My husband must be nuts. Or perhaps he’s a lion tamer.
You know when those nasty black houseflies hit a window or somesuch, and wind up on their backs, and they flap those wings and buzz around in a circle, going nowhere, making a vicious racket, and they can’t get up? Yeah. I was a housefly. Instead of getting the flyswatter and squishing the icky bug, my husband flipped me over so I could fly around again. Getting stuck in people’s hair, falling into soup, and eating garbage.
My husband’s a saint. And I have a rabbit’s foot shoved up my ass.
