The worst of me

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When you are first dating someone you give them all the best stuff, right? Especially if you really hit it off. Because the people you really hit it off with bring out the best in you.  They make you funnier and sexier, and way more relaxed then you really are.

And that’s fine, right? If that didn’t happen, would anyone date at all? If we all started out with a laundry list of why we were such a mess, who would be interested? Well, except for people who are total masochists, or who think they can change you, or believe you will change for them, or are so crazy that they think you’re normal. We all know how relationships with crazy delusional masochists turn out, right? I couldn’t be the only one. Right? Right.

Here I am, swimming along through life with Mr. Tasty Cake, and it’s been kind of a joy marathon. Happiness. Fast. Which is fine, it’s great. Maybe two weeks in we looked at each other and sort of came to the conclusion that everyone in this relationship already knew where it was headed, so we may as well admit it. We were headed for commitment, serious commitment. Nothing scary about it, it was just a happy fact. When you go out on a first date with someone, and their favorite Chinese restaurant in Manhattan is your favorite Chinese restaurant in Manhattan (Sammy’s Noodles- West Village- I would link, but wordpress is not cooperating)- that’s pretty amazing. Especially since neither one of us lives there, and do you know how many Chinese restaurants there are in Manhattan? Anyway, 4 months in, we’re engaged. He puts his house up for sale, it sells in TWO DAYS (yes, when I type in all caps I am meant to be shouting at you). At 6 months we were moving in together.

At 6 months and 5 days I get really sick. I have freaking shingles again. Yes, again. I’m like a shingles celebrity at the doctor’s  now. They were just passing me around yesterday talking about how strange my case of repeat shingles is at my age. Anyway, I’m really sick. Fever, pain, exhaustion, google it. This is just about the worst of me. I’m useless in this state.

So last night I mention that if we had been together longer he would know how I get with stuff like this. Now I feel like I owe him more of a list. He’s stuck with me, right? (I got his grandma’s diamond and he can’t have it back!) Here goes.

I am a terrible patient. I don’t like to let on how sick I am, I expect you to just realize it. I don’t like to ask for things because I feel like a burden, but I wonder why you don’t offer them. If you do offer them, I will likely turn you down because I feel guilty for needing you.  When I say no, you would be smart to ask “really?” at least twice. I bet that is super annoying.

I can argue my way out of A LOT (still shouting) of things, even ridiculous things. I try not to want to win every argument, but, oh, it’s so hard to resist that. I should have gone to law school, we’d be shopping for a bigger house.

When I go to a restaurant, and discover a dish that I really love, I want to order the same thing every time. Sushi Rock? Hawaiian rolls- every time. Some people may read that and think- big deal. But, I know you enough to know that you just shuddered a little bit.

I hate to do dishes- oh, wait, you figured that one out in no time flat.

I need sleep. Less than 8 hours makes me cranky. No, I really need sleep. You need to believe this. When I don’t sleep I am the freaking sea hag.

When pregnant, I am miserable. I hate to be fat. May skin breaks out for the first 3 months and makes me super self conscious. I have a terrible time eating, and when I can eat I want very specific things. Morning sickness lasted 6 months with Owen. Also it makes me even sleepier, and even crankier when I don’t sleep. (Side note, children are always allowed to wake me with no consequence because they need me.)

Wow- I’m starting to think that I should have listed some positive stuff first for good measure. Hopefully you know all that already.

I’m sure there’s more. I can leave an open forum in the comments section for more crap about me, I guess. (Oh, just a thought, what if everyone came with a reviews bubble above them, like when you shop at That would be helpful, as long as everyone who ever dated you wrote one, ’cause some people are just bitter, and you want to average out to at least 3.5 stars). Right now we can just focus on the whole bad patient thing. I will try to be better, really I will. And I will get back to normal- in 6-7 days. Then we can move on to the good stuff again. Ok? Ok.

Van only writes when things get crazy, she is inconsistent at best. Don't get hooked. She is otherwise busy being a mom, wife, professional tidying maven (yes, that's a thing for which people will pay money), and working at killing the cancer.

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One Response to “The worst of me”

  1. Ok.

    I love you.



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