I consider this topic often. I wonder if my upbringing has permanently damaged my view of men and their worth. (I find it ironic that men are usually the ones lacking value in women). People say my mother had three sons (she actually had two daughters and one son). We were raised without a father, and without a clue as to what a household would do with a man in it - we've all been completely self-sufficient from early ages, and even our dog was a girl. It's no wonder to me that I had literally no expectations of my former husband, but eventually exhausted myself taking care of him. I have always, and I fear, will always do things by myself, for myself and my kids, and no one will ever get in the way of that.
I guess the reason this subject came to mind this time is because I have been seriously considering what kind of marriage I want next time. It's been a year since my divorce, and I'm finally feeling like I could possibly get married again. Not anytime soon, but someday.
I want to post about a recent mind-changing, seven-month long experience.
Excerpt From My Journal - February 23, 2012
My (new found since divorce) theory is that a man has the potential for a first date, six months, or seven years. If he's made it past the first date, he is not intensely annoying or a complete dumb ass. If he's made it to six months, he has more good qualities than bad, but there are the dog-shit-in-the-brownie deal breakers that cannot be compromised. If he's made it past six months, he is potential husband material. That said, let me describe my most recent relationship.
I began dating a certain someone in early October. In the beginning, we accepted the 'relationship' title mostly as an agreement that we would get to know each other exclusively. I'll say in complete honesty that I don't think I had any feelings whatsoever for him until early December. Things that would normally piss me off didn't phase me in the least, which is a clear sign that I don't care much one way or the other about someone. I did like his creativity though, which is one of two things that held my attention long enough to develop feelings, lucky for us. (The other was brains, of course). I guess you could say that the relationship started out more as a friendship and grew from there.
I finally started to feel something about the second week of December. It was a pleasant surprise when he came back from California after Christmas break and his crude comments and general bad behavior had lessened considerably. Now that I love the guy (and he is much better behaved and clearly cares about me more than he did the first couple months), I don't have all those annoying quirks to deal with. So I have to say it was nice to let him straighten up a bit before I started caring. Ha.
So here's where I get confused about my 'role' - if such a thing exists - as a woman on this planet. I am good at housekeeping. I'm good at laundry and cooking and parenting too, and I find all those things fulfilling. But I'm also good at math, I'm creative, and I enjoy working outside the home. In my head it has never been an option to not work. I remember being ten years old knowing that I would make decent money, and the family thing was always wishy washy. The job thing might just be my distaste for vulnerability. As far as I know, the second you expect anything, it's not there. So I find it terrifying to consider putting myself in a position where I am under someone else's control, financially. I also find the thought of someone else controlling my income terrifying. Not that I wouldn't share, but I want to make the choice to share.
But here's the thing: I've lived that life before. I have been the breadwinner while being the housekeeper, chef, parent, and wife. And it was hard. Five years of that life has seasoned me for any sleep deprivation, starvation, dehydration, or exhaustion the CIA could ever throw at me.
It startles me that the thought is even crossing my mind of someone wanting to take care of me. And it surprises me even more that I'm comforted and relieved by the idea of not having to do it all, because I'm so accustomed to doing it all. I can't remember a single time in my life where I have trusted (or even had hope) that someone could make my life easier. But that's how I feel about this certain someone. Or at least I'm starting to feel that way.
At first it was just not annoying that he rinsed his own dishes - I fully anticipated having to clean up after him, like I do everyone else who enters my house. Nowadays he helps out with dishes and cooking, and he helps out and interacts with my kids. And I don't feel stressed and anxious before his arrival. I don't feel like my children should be seen and not heard, or that I need to censor his words and actions around my kids. I don't feel guilty for having messes when he comes over. I feel comfortable in my own skin, and... *gasp*... I think I might be developing an appreciation for men. Is this what real men do? They make their significant other feel important and they actually contribute to the well-oiled machine that is our household?
I don't even know what to do about this recent development besides acquaint myself with feelings of ease and start to forget about loneliness. I must have been lonely my entire life because this kind of comfort is completely new to me.
My original ideas about gender roles were formed mostly by religious people and by my husband. A close friend and family member once told me that I had to choose between being a good mother and wife (by that she meant staying home) or being selfishly fulfilled at a job. And for the longest time it really felt that way. I can have one or the other but I can't have both. In reality, I can't do both alone, and I should not wonder why I wasn't a complete success at anything when I attempted to do and be everything simultaneously.
I've realized now that maybe things aren't so black and white and that I don't have to choose. My idea of balance is both parties in the relationship contributing outside and inside the home. I don't need a stay-at-home husband or a nanny in order to be a success at work, and I don't have to be a stay-at-home mom to fulfill my role as a mother. I just need someone who appreciates the amount of physical labor required to run a household, and who is willing to pitch in. Even if things don't work out with this certain someone, I have found hope and a new expectation for a future relationship, and I feel more content with my desire to work.
I find it strange and sad that our perception of reality is so thoroughly based on comparisons between others and ourselves, and on others' opinions. Just food for thought.
* * *
The relationship I spoke of has since fallen apart, but the point is that I have new hope for men. I have hope for myself, and I have expectations. I don't have to settle or be anyone's adult babysitter. I can have a balance that's right for ME, and I will settle for no less.
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