To My Ex-Boyfriends: 7 Reasons You Would Have Hated Being Married To Me.

So I’m 99.9% sure that I’m going to end up alone in this world and it’s going to be my own frickin’ fault.

Do you ever get that feeling?

That you are just too hard to love? Too hard to live with? Too hard to be around?

I just spent a few hours with a couple of women I really love. And who I know, for sure, really love me. I know this without a doubt.

And at the same time, in the space of a few hours, it was mentioned – more than a few times, I might add – that I have issues. (Ummm…hello?! Have we MET?! We are all well aware, sisters…)

There was also a fair bit of shock expressed by one of my loving friends upon discovering that my husband doesn’t drink, even after having been subjected to my shit for 23 years. And that he should be up for sainthood for having put up with me and allllllllll my issues.

Oh, and also that I’m high maintenance. Which I distinctly remember being teased about by the ex-boyfriend who introduced my husband and I. (Come to think of it…maybe he wasn’t even teasing me…maybe he was actually complaining and I just didn’t catch on…)

Anyway, it started me thinking about ex-boyfriends and how clearly, they all dodged a HUGE frickin’ bullet.

So…to my lovely (and maybe one not-so-lovely) ex-boyfriends…

Here are 7 reasons you would have hated being married to me:

1.       As already mentioned above, apparently, I’m high-maintenance.

There was a part in the movie, When Harry Met Sally, when Harry tells Sally she’s high maintenance and she denies it, and then he corrects himself and says, “You’re the worst kind. You think you’re low maintenance, but you’re actually high maintenance.” That’s me. I’m guessing that most of you knew this, even though only one of you commented on it.

2.       I like a lot of space.

And I mean a LOT. I want you around when I want you around, but then I want my space. Sometimes for a whole weekend – or more. Sometimes, just when I’m getting ready to start my day. Like when I’m getting ready after taking a shower. Come talk to me when I’m putting on make-up, but then please go away when I’m trying to decide what to wear or need to dry my hair. Please?! There’s this amazing phenomenon that happens in my house. Everyone can be in their own spaces, doing their own thing. But the second I go to shower and get ready for the day, everyone decides I must need company, so they come and join me. Por favor.

I need alone time way, way, WAY more than almost anyone else I know. I know I’m an empath and an introvert, so I feel quite drained after being around people and absorbing their energy. And I need to recharge by being alone. But I need this so much, it’s hard for even me to comprehend sometimes. But it’s just the way it is…it’s the way God made me.

3.       I’m kind of particular (i.e. anal) about the way my space looks.

I’m not a neat freak or a germaphobe, by any means. I don’t necessarily like my dog licking my face, but you can wear your shoes in my house. (Although the more I read, the more I realize that should probably change.) But I don’t like a lot of clutter, and I like everything in its place. So while I’m not constantly cleaning, I am picking up all the time and putting things where they belong. I love containers and organization and wish my house was even more organized and contained and less cluttered than it is.

I also love candles and pillows and sparkly things. Aesthetics are very important to me. I love to be in a beautiful space, and if the pillows aren’t arranged, it’s pretty difficult for me to look past it and relax. The relaxing won’t be done until the pillows are arranged and karate-chopped.

Laundry doesn’t come out of the dryer and sit in a heap on the bed. It gets folded before it starts to wrinkle. Or if it’s been sitting in the dryer for a while, then I will run the dryer again to shake the wrinkles out. I also don’t like a lot of stuff on the kitchen counters…I want it mostly put away. Same goes for a lawn that’s mowed, but not weed-whacked, or an unmade bed. Or dishes in the sink when the dishwasher is RIGHT THERE. For the love.

4.       You can’t chew around me. Ever.

Unless we’re both chewing and I can’t hear you. Or unless there’s music on to drown your masticating out. You also can’t type on a keyboard, click a pen, or walk across hardwood floors with untrimmed nails. (Oh wait…that’s my dog…)

5.       I don’t cook.

It’s not fun. It takes forever. People gobble it up in minutes. And then you have to clean up the mess you made. (Because I have issues and can’t relax until I do.) I really don’t care about it at all. And I don’t care what anyone thinks. My kids will be fine if I fed them nothing but salad for the rest of their years, so shutty. Plus, since you can’t chew around me, it works out well that I don’t cook.

6.       My spiritual shit is real and if you roll your eyes at it, I will hurt you.

I will talk about the full moon and synchronicity and signs from the Universe and what my soul wants because you, my friend, will feel the sometimes unfortunate side effects of all of that. There are one or two of you ex-boyfriends that make me understand why I stifled this side of me for too damn long. Some of you just would not have been able to handle it.

7.       I am a freak about my hair.

I don’t know where this came from. I really don’t. But if I actually have issues bigger than emotional issues, it’s hair issues. If it’s looking good today, I probably will not nap with you – unless properly enticed. And I might get grumpy on a windy day like today and you will have NO earthly idea why. But it’s because of the fucking wind.

I feel like I could go on and on, but I won’t let myself because I have to stop at #7, which is my favorite number. Issues.

And lest you think I am feeling bad about these things, rest assured, I am not.

I love my sparkly, magical, badass self – issues and all. In fact, I especially love my issues. They are what make me who I am. And that’s a pretty phenomenal woman.

And now I want to write a follow-up post about all the reasons you should have married me, but those reasons are the ones you probably already remember...

...and that might not be suitable for publication.


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