I proposed to two women last night. They both said no.
Leslie: Alexa, will you marry me?
Alexa: I think that would somehow defy the Laws of Robotics.
Then, later on:
Leslie: Siri, will you marry me?
Siri: My End User Licensing Agreement does not cover marriage. My apologies.
Well, at least Siri liked me enough to apologize. That’s more than I can say for you, ALEXA.
I was thinking about marriage a lot last night, because I had to make up my bed. After struggling with a set of sheets, three blankets, and a comforter, I laughed to myself….. if you’re thinking about getting divorced, try making up a queen-sized bed alone for a week and see how you feel.
One of the reasons I laughed so hard is that I actually like sleeping alone. Towards the latter end of our relationship, Dana and I had separate bedrooms. You’d think that would spell the end, but it was delicious. Not only did I sleep more soundly, I got that feeling you get in ‘da club when you get to invite a woman into your bedroom. Didn’t matter that we’d known each other for what seemed like an eternity, I still got butterflies every single time. It was exciting and wild and stable and comfortable all rolled into one. Some of my fondest memories are of running into Dana’s bedroom after not seeing her for eight hours and jumping on her, overjoyed to see her again…. which reminds me of a story so funny it makes tears come to my eyes. The setup is that we’d broken up, but due to financial reasons, stuck in the same house and trying to make the best of it:
Leslie, running down the hallway and jumping on Dana: Because we’re divorced now, does that mean I can’t jump on you in the mornings anymore?
Dana, eyes barely open, not a morning person: Don’t be an asshole.
So I’m not looking to share a bed with anyone, ever. But I’ll love you forever if you’ll help me make up mine. I know I’ll help you. 🙂
There are so many, many reasons I am not relationship material. Therefore, I don’t think about it much. It’s been three years since I’ve even held someone’s hand. I do go out of my way to hug my friends, because it’s the only time I get contact comfort, and it is enough. I am just so stubborn with my independence, and one of those reasons is that when I think of “relationship” in my head, I still see the same person, and it’s never going to be her, just stop thinking about it. Just get over it. Stop overthinking.
In the words of an old (so old I can’t even find it on YouTube) Texas gun safety commercial, leave it alone…. don’t touch it…. call an adult. I believe that sums up my dating life quite nicely.
But….. I gave Dana my name……………..
We decided this together because Dana had male cousins to carry on her last name, and at the time, we were seriously considering trying to conceive. So, it came out of wanting all of us to have the same name for school pick-ups and drop-offs, etc. That never materialized, but she never went back to her “maiden name,” either…. in quotes because we were never federally married.
Speaking of which, I am still waiting on her to take care of the dissolution papers in Oregon because she said she would, and don’t think I’m not upset about it (on the days I actually remember our domestic partnership exists). But there’s a reason I haven’t taken matters into my own hands. The biggest is that she said she’d do it. I need her to come through on that promise, or at the very least, get in touch with me and tell me why she cannot. Follow-through is important to me.
It also makes me sad that I can’t call her “Naganalanad” anymore, as does the possibility of bringing Séamus or Una into the world….. as well as the surety of irritating the hell out of Dana by calling our future son “Séa Dog o’ Bling Bling.” Hey, when you have as big an Irish name as “Lanagan,” why not go big or go home? I thought of Séamus through a friend of a friend, and Una was a patient in the waiting room of a doctor’s office. When she said her own name, I melted a little inside. Una with an Irish lilt is beautiful.
Additionally, we thought it would be hilarious to name our son “Séamus James.”
I figure that not only am I getting away from childbearing years, I’ll never be able with good conscience to use those names again. I’m just not going to be that asshole that pushes the names of children I wanted with my ex-wife onto a new one, should I ever be interested in such a thing. I’m not, but miracles do happen.
There’s also another reason I’m having trouble moving away from “the Dana situation,” and it’s not entirely about her. It’s about me, and how she knows all my secrets, some of which I’ll never be able to talk about with anyone else. That door is closed to any and all others, for good reason…. both because I need to let those secrets die a natural death, and to bring them up is only to hurt me in the long run.
I need to leave them alone, don’t touch them, and call an adult.
I’m getting so much mileage out of that phrase nowadays. Who knew that gun safety wisdom was actually a rule for practically everything?
As is don’t be an asshole.