Why It Matters Whom You Marry

Today, I posted a link to an old article from the Christian Pundit on my Facebook page titled, "It Matters Whom You Marry."  Obviously, as a single 32 year old, I am acutely aware of this fact.  The decision to marry has never been something I've taken lightly.  If it were, I'd probably be married (and divorced) by now.

Why do I say that?


 There was a time in my late 20's when I thought I'd found "the one."  Of course, looking back now, I can see the obvious errors in my thought process.... but well... love can be blind.  Not only that, but at that point in my life, I was feeling particularly vulnerable and alone.  I was in DC on my own, in a job I disliked, with a freshly broken heart, and the man in question here was my only tie to home.  He knew me.  He knew me very well, and he knew exactly what to say and do to open my heart and clear a space for himself.

At that time, I had a plan-- a timetable.   I wanted to be married with a baby by 30.  He fit right into that natural progression.  He said he wanted the same things I did (as long as I gave him only girls.  Not sure how I was going to engineer that, but hey).  So he asked.  And I answered.  And the rest is history.

I said yes.... but it was for all the wrong reasons.... and to the completely wrong person...all because I had an idea of what I wanted my life to be.  I see a lot of people in their late 20's or older who get married because they are chasing an idea, or a dream, or because they think they are getting too old to have a family.  They think to themselves that if they can just find someone who fits nicely into their current life, who they can tolerate, and who wants relatively the same things, that they are not settling.  They are accomplishing something.  Achieving a goal.  Fulfilling a dream.

You might be achieving a goal by being married, but if one of your other goals is to have a happy, long-lasting, loving marriage AND a fantastic friendship with your partner, you had better be sure you are marrying the right person.  Thing 1 does not always lead to Thing 2.

It does matter whom you marry.

1.  It affects you spiritually.

I chose to become engaged to a non-Christian.  I'm not saying that Christians and non-Christians can't marry, or that it is not the right decision for some people... but it was not the right decision for me.  As a woman, and as a person, I need a man who will hold me accountable to my commitments and who will allow me to do the same for him.  I need someone who will pray with me and who I know is always praying for me; someone with whom I have complete comfort in studying and discussing the Bible; and someone who is going to continually encourage me to put God first and to use my life in constant service to others.


The person I chose was not only a non-Christian, but a person blatantly opposed to any type of organized religion.  He often made fun of me when I went to church.  He did attend with me a couple of times, but later used it as a bargaining chip... "Well, I went to church with you, so you should do this and that for me."  As the months passed, I found myself agreeing to break commitments to God and to my spiritual family because he asked.  I found myself reading my Bible less.  I found myself in prayer less.  If I was honest with myself, I felt distance growing between God and me.  If my timetable baby had been born at that time, I wonder now how I would have agreed to raise her-- if she would have had a church home, if she would have had a Bible.  I like to think I would have raised her to know God, but it's hard to introduce someone to God if your own relationship with Him is strained.

2.   It affects you emotionally.

I have always been and will always be an emotional person.  Words people say and things they do often affect me on a deep level.  And when I have an emotion, I'm the type of person who needs to talk it out.  If I choose not to say anything about what I'm feeling, sometimes it can affect everything I do.  I can't always think clearly.  My relations with others are strained.... and I can walk around all day achey or angry or sad from the emotion that is fermenting in my heart.  I just need to let it out.  I need someone who will listen to my feelings-- REALLY listen-- without telling me that they're unwarranted or silly.  I need someone who will offer his advice when I ask, but who understand that sometimes, all I need is to be heard.

The person I chose did not like it when I felt things.  He did not like it when I needed to talk.  He often told me that I needed to find "a better way of coping" than coming to him... and that my feelings were silly for an otherwise rational person.  Two years of similar interactions with this individual have drastically changed the way that I communicate my thoughts and feelings to guys who interest me.  In fact, the guy who I currently care for very deeply was listening to me early Monday morning as I explained an issue that I was having with another friend and how it made me feel.  He had listened to me for about 10 minutes explain how I felt I needed to cut this person from my life because of what was going on.  When I had said my peace, he tried to empathize by saying that he was sorry that the situation happened and that it had upset me... but I literally cut him off mid-sentence, because I found myself thinking I was being too needy... and that he really shouldn't care to hear about this.  That wasn't fair to him.  He was doing what he knew I needed and offering me an ear and a (proverbial) shoulder.  But because I have trained myself to be afraid to voice my own emotions, it's hard for me to accept when someone offers me the chance to be myself and let them out.

3.  It affects you physically.

a) Money
The person I chose did not have a job.  He did not make money.  That in and of itself is not necessarily a deal breaker; however, he said he could not look for a job, because he was in school.  He asked me for money all of the time--for groceries, for school, for his phone bill-- and because I loved him, I gave it to him.... even though I was receiving money from my parents just to stay afloat myself.  At a time in my life when I should have been saving some money because I was living with a roommate, I was losing money, because I was funneling everything I could to him.

The man I marry doesn't have to make a lot of money.  He does not have to support me.  I can work and support myself.  But I do need someone who will make an effort.  Whether he works in an office building, at a carwash, or at Pizza Hut... I don't care.  I just need someone who works hard and who wants to contribute to the family we have decided to make-- even if it's just the two of us.

b) Your body and Sex
At the time that I chose to say yes, I wanted to save our sexual relationship for marriage, because that is where the Bible intends it to be.  This was a huge point of contention between the two of us.  This person knew that I had been sexually active in the past and did not understand why waiting until marriage mattered to me.  He would try to get me as drunk as possible when we were alone, knowing that I would always agree to more when my inhibitions were down. I never really thought much about this, because I was a willing participant, but once, I actually passed out, and woke up very sore and in a compromising position.  I was face down in what appeared to be my own vomit.  I could not remember anything that happened.  To this day, all I know is the version of events he gave me.

This person also slapped me.  It was only once, but still I remember it very vividly.  He had made us dinner--the only time a man has ever cooked for me.  I can still tell you what we ate.  Pork chops, rice and vegetables, a salad, and Yellowtail Cabernet.  As we were finishing dinner, he noticed on his phone that his scores for the Legal Ethics exam had come in (the test lawyers must pass before sitting for the Bar).  He checked his score and was upset because it wasn't the score he needed to sit for a certain state.  I tried to console him, telling him that he could take it again, that I understood where he was coming from, and that we could study together for the next one.  Mid sentence, he glared at me, and the next thing I knew his hand fell hard across my face, "You don't get it, " he said.  "Just shut up."  And shut up, I did.  I went straight to my bedroom and locked the door, which he eventually coaxed me to open for him with the right amount of apology.  Don't think it was right away though.  I cried alone in there for a good 30 minutes while he chatted on the phone as though nothing was amiss.  I was having emotions then anyway.  Ain't nobody got time for that.

The man I marry will respect me and my body.  He will not do anything to hurt me.  He will not touch me without my consent.  No matter how angry I make him, he will not hit me.  My body will always be mine first, but his second, with my permission.  Because he loves me, he will love my body, and he will treat it accordingly, because like all of our bodies, it is a gift from God.  And we will be having a lot of sex.... and it will be good.

4.  It will affect you mentally.

When I was with this person, I was worried all of the time: worried about money; worried about sex; worried about the future; worried about our life.  From the above points, you should be able to see why .  The person I marry should be a source of strength for me.  I'm not saying that marriage will be worry-free; I know it won't.  But I should be able to talk to him about my worries, and he should be able to confess his.  We should be able to lean on each other and on God for strength even in the hardest times.  If the person you marry is constantly a reason for your worry, it is very difficult to express that to him or to lean on him for strength.  And if your relationship with God is suffering too, who do you have to lean on but your already-exhausted self?

5.  It will affect you relationally.

I couldn't lean on my family or my friends during the tough times either.  They did not agree with the person I had chosen, and could see how much it was changing me.  He encouraged me just to cut them out, maintaining that the thoughts they were planting about him in my head were the real source of worry and strife in my life, and that once he proved to them he was here to stay, they'd come around.

The man I marry needs to love my family.  This is very important, because they are important to me... and even if he doesn't share the same enthusiasm for all of my family and friends as I do, he needs to do and say things that encourage and foster my own relationships with them.  When you marry someone, you do marry into a family, so it's at least important that both parties know and can live with exactly whom they are choosing to associate themselves.

I really think that everything in this list comes back to the 1st point-- the spiritual effects of marriage.  If you love God and you marry someone who you know truly loves and serves God:
1.  They will be your spiritual accountability partner
2.  They will take the necessary role in your family's spiritual life
3.  They will want to contribute financially to the family
4.  They will listen to your thoughts, worries, and concerns, and you will make decisions together, keeping God in mind
5. They will respect you and your body
6.  They will make an effort to have relationships with your family and friends, and to help you cultivate the relationships that you need for your own personal growth.

Of course, I'm not saying that there are not Christians who don't fail at these aspects of marriage, but if someone is truly living with service to God in mind, many of the positive tenants of marriage will be part and parcel of how they already conduct themselves.



        

Black coffee....

She woke up as the sun started to gleam through the windows, leaving small slats of light streaming onto her yellow green comforter.

She rubbed her eyes, still itchy and raw from all of the crying she had done the night before.  As if on autopilot, her right hand moved down, and she found herself twisting the loose ring on her left ring finger in a slow, methodical motion.  The only comfort to her was the feel of the cold metal against the hot, splotchy nervousness of her skin.

She had told him when he proposed that she didn't want a ring.  They couldn't afford it.  She had begged him just to throw on shoes and run to Walmart, and they could spend a few quarters on a superhero decoder ring in one of those gumball machines... and that would be it.

He knew she belonged to him.  She was sure.  He'd known it for years.  Even in the times he'd treated her like another man's girlfriend, she had stuck around.  But he insisted, she had to have something to prove to the world that she was his... so he had taken the ring off his own finger...an Irish claddagh ring he had gotten from his grandmother... and placed it on her hand.

It fit so loosely that she was afraid to wear it much.  It wasn't hers anyway, and she wanted to save for the sapphire and diamond wedding band more fitting of her own personality.  Her parents didn't know; neither did many of her friends.  They kept warning her that even dating him was a mistake, so how could she tell anyone that he'd asked her to marry him?

She had known, she thought, where his feelings really lay.  They were evident, face up and trembling on the pillow next to her,  when they had laid there together in that very room, naming their children, planning out their lives in the city, searching on the internet for job prospects for him once he finished school.  As she thought back to those conversations, her head began to ache.  

What were they?  Empty words.  Her mouth went dry, and her stomach felt achily hollow.  It was over.  He had told her last night that he couldn't give her the love and support that she needed.  When she had asked if there was someone else, he had said, "No, but I'd like there to be."  Just like that, words of goodbye had replaced words of forever, and their stench hung in the air, burning her nostrils as she felt the tears starting to well.  Again.

She buried her head in the pillow next to her.  It still smelled like him, Irish Spring soap and cigarettes, laced with a hint of regret. 

______________________________________________________________________________

She woke up as the sun started to gleam through the windows, leaving small slats of light streaming onto her yellow green comforter.

She seemed to dream about that morning every year around this time.  October 8, 2009.   The day they were to marry.  So many years ago, and yet in her dreams, the sting of her sweat and tears still felt real.  She reached down to her left ring finger , and smiled to herself as she twisted her mother's amethyst and diamond ring in a slow, methodical motion.  She felt the warmth of unconditional love spread from her heart.  

She placed her feet on the floor and shuffled to the kitchen; her old dog following closely behind.  The wet of his nose was a comfort to her as it lapped lightly against her left calf.  She started the coffee, hooked up her speaker, and waited for Ella Fitzgerald's voice to burst into the room.  She coated the counter in flour and decided on biscuits again. Kneading the dough in her shaky hands, she began to sing softly.

The Promise

The onset of October always leads me to thoughts of marriage. Fall is my favorite time of year, and I have always imagined my wedding in the Fall since I was old enough to think about it. 

Originally, i wanted to be married on my parents' farm in Kentucky surrounded by sunflowers at mid-afternoon, just before the sun begins to set and the bugs come out. 

When I was asked to marry one of my exes, the dream changed to a small wedding on the Centre Seal the first week of October. We wanted to be married by one of his favorite professors (he wasn't very religious) and then run around campus taking pictures of ourselves at all the places we loved and had memories together. 

Now I still have dreams of a wedding in the Fall... but I don't really care where it is or what I wear (I just want to feel pretty). I have eschewed the idea of elaborate plans, and a woman with as many law school loans as I have isn't keen on spending a lot of money on one day. I'd much rather save money on the day and plan a trip to Europe or New Zealand or some white beach with turquoise water. 

All I want at my wedding is love. I want my family to be there. Whomever my husband will be, I want his family to be there. What's important about the wedding is not the flowers or the rings or the dresses or the food (well, except maybe the cake... You know me and cake). 

It's the promise. It's knowing that you have found the person who will love you even when you are at your least loveable. Who will remember where you put your keys; kiss you even when you're sick and your breath tastes like it; and be more angry at you than they ever thought they could, but still hold the door, make your dinner, or toss a pillow to you when one of you is sleeping on the couch. 

I know that type of promise exists. I've seen it in my parents. I see it in my dad when he surprises my mom with wildflowers or a hostess banana flip from the convenience store. I see it in my mom when she always makes sure his favorite shirts are ironed and jokes about how he has a full closet but always wears the same three. 

When he watches Dancing with the Stars with her, and she constantly buys him containers and tubs to put his "papers" in and complains about the mess, but then confides in me about how lost she'd feel if she had to eat dinner without him or Bucky. 

I've seen it in the hard times--when they've supported Matthew and me through countless surgeries and procedures. When he's held her when she cried for us-- when I left for college, when I moved to France, and almost every time I take a plane from KY to DC. 

Through death and heart attacks and loud, cursing "discussions" and disagreements on money and time, they are always there. Their love for each other is always visible from the outside, even when they don't see it. 

Why? It's the promise. It hangs in the universe above them--the gift from God that they accepted by taking each other through this life. It binds their hearts and souls in ways that in the darkest times, still shine through in the way they look at each other. 

It proves that two individuals who are meant to be one can still be themselves, but come together and be a better version than apart. 

The strength of their promise is what gives me faith that unconditional  love between two human beings is real. That promises like theirs, when not made lightly, don't have to be broken. Rather, they can grow stronger with time and seal a bond that will last long past their earthly lifetimes. 

Dating-- a moratorium

Well, since my entry about the LDR, I can attest that there is in fact an end worse than the break up text. We will call it, "the tacit turnover," meaning that the person tells you absolutely nothing about the way they are feeling, despite you trying to probe for some answers during a phone conversation, which you now surmise was cut short so they could instigate said turnover. 

After informing you of nothing, they then proceed to delete you from their life without warning (and in my case, on my birthday) and publicly declare themselves in a relationship with a woman you've never heard mentioned before. 

So, the maneuver consists of a silent bait-and-switch. And then throwing the fish (me) back into the proverbial sea, half-gutted. 

That tacit turnover, ladies and gentlemen, marks the end of my dating life. 

No more. 

I am done. No more dating online, offline, long distance, short distance, or next door. 

I would rather live a generally happy single life than risk anymore unnecessary carnage at the hands of these loser heads I seem to attract, thank you very much. 

Yes, I've wanted my own  family more than anything on earth for as long as I could voice my wants... but I'm really starting to think that what I want is not worth all of the crazy I have to endure to find it... and all this endurance without even an inkling of assurance that I ever will meet my match. 

If he exists, he's going to have to find me. To the rest of the men in America, go sell your crazy somewhere else, we're all stocked up here. 

Birthdays. being alone, and burning holes into my flesh...

I'm turning 32 on Sunday.

I'll admit to you that by this time in my life I thought I'd be in a different spot.

If you'd asked me at 22 where I'd be at 32, I would have told you that I'd be married, settled, out of debt, and probably teaching French in some school system or running a small solo law practice.

Instead, I'm single, still in debt, a Masters student, living in one of the most expensive cities in the nation, childless, and I speak French about once a month.

Not at all the same.... not at all what I thought I'd want.... but better.

Since 22, I've completed law school, become licensed in 3 states,  lived alone in France, moved alone to a completely new city, and sought out my job, my living situation, and my church family all on my own.

I have survived 1 marriage proposal, two shattered hearts, and countless ego bruises.

I have fallen in love with my best friend, and watched the rejection from him become the absolute best thing for us both.

I have gone on about 50 first dates in the past 10 years, but only 4 second ones.

I have learned how to budget, ignored my budget, and cried and figured out how to pick myself up off the floor when there was nothing left to budget.

I have jumped from a plane, taken leaps of faith that have resulted in love, and a few that have resulted in heartache.

I have endured a job I hated, left a job I liked, and found a job I love.

I have gained friends, lost touch with some, and watched one lose her fight with cancer.

I have doubted my decision not to just stay in Kentucky.  I have had lonely nights and weepy weekends, and eaten entire tubs of icing because I was convinced that if I was going to die alone, I might as well be full of chocolate.

I have become more attached to a dog than I was ever aware one could be.

I have learned how to sing myself to sleep, take myself out to dinner, and celebrate small victories alone.

I have learned that there is nothing wrong with doing these things alone.

The past 10 years have taught me that the people who love me will remain in my life regardless of distance, or passage of time, and even on the days they don't particularly like me.

They have taught me the value of going out on dates with people who remind me why I like my life as it is.

They have taught me the value of anticipation-- the reward that's in the waiting.

Waiting for a job.  Waiting for the right kind of love.  Waiting for that moment when I'm sitting alone in the quiet of my apartment feeling completely content-- needing no one and nothing else.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is the moment.  I guess you could say I have arrived.

32 is not what I thought it would be at 22.... and neither am I.

I am stronger, more confident, sure of my own worth absent any other opinions... and completely ready to take on whatever surprises this next decade may bring.

Bring it on 30's.... let's see what you've got.

The perils of the LDR....

Ahhh, the long distance relationship.  The old LDR.

I had promised myself after my heart was broken by a man who lived in KY while I was living in Virginia that I would never again stand on the precipice of such an arrangement.  And yet, here I am, finding myself completely smitten with a man who lives 350 miles away from me.

Never say never,guys.

People say that relationships are hard. And they are.... the in-person relationships are wonderfully, fantastically, unbelievably hard.  But they are worth it.

You know how you can really tell if you like someone enough to want them around in person, though? When it's 3 am or 3 pm or 12 pm or whatever time of day, and you get some exciting news, your dog learns a new trick, you stub your toe, or you buy a new shirt, and the first person you want to tell is not anyone who's standing nearby... but that person who's 350 miles away.


Yeah, you could say I'm in deep.

What I've learned about getting to know someone from so far away though, is that it presents its own set of challenges.

1)  First, this LDR.... what is it?  No, really? WHAT IS IT??  It walks like a duck, talks like a duck, but it is a....herron???

If you talk every day, but only see each other every month.... is that dating?  Is that a relationship?  I think the answer is different for every person and every couple.  The LDR often requires the DTR ("define the relationship" conversation).  You could decide to call it a relationship; you could decide to call it dating.  You could decide to call it nothing, but if you decide to call it nothing, you had still better be clear on what the rules around dating other people are.... otherwise, you could end up giving your whole heart to a person who is giving his to you, and someone else, and someone else.

Personally, I like labels.  I like knowing where I stand.  In my last LDR, that was a huge issue for me, mostly because the guy had proposed to me, but somehow still wasn't ok with declaring himself to be "in a relationship" with me on Facebook.

Red Flag much?

This time around.... I'm not so concerned with what the rest of the world knows quite yet.  I love this person very much.  He loves me.  I know I'm important enough for him to have mentioned me to other people in his life.  I am ok with that.  I don't date anyone else at the moment, and I trust that he doesn't either.... because if he did, I surmise, based on our conversations, that he would tell me. Would I like to be in an "official" relationship?  Yes.  Of course.  But that will come in its own time....

I'm not going to wait in limbo forever.... but I also don't want to have every important conversation of our lives via text message.  If it is meant to be, it will be.  So here I sit, contrary to what I said I'd "never" do.... in my perfectly undefined, happy nothing.

2)  Every time I get a text from this person, my stomach flips faster than a McDonalds Quarter Pounder on a Friday night.  Communication in an LDR is key.  And in these days, you can communicate at the drop of a hat.... so why not take advantage?  Tell funny anecdotes from your day.  Take a picture and send it.  Pictures of you.  Pictures of your food.  Pictures of your environment.  Make the person feel as though they are there with you.  If you want them to be there and they want to be there, you have them in spirit, and that's what matters the majority of the time.

Just be careful about what you say in a text message.  Say what you mean and mean what you say.  Some deep conversations are better in person.  Others can be had over the phone.  Use your judgement.  Just remember, inflection can't be expressed in a text.  Also, "Let's eat Grandma." is not the same thing as "Let's eat, Grandma."

Please, please, please... I'm begging you... do not end the relationship in a text.  My last LDR ended via gchat, and to this day, everytime my current guy sends me a text that looks serious I'm always afraid that's the one.  If you can't be there in person, use the phone.  Good grief.  And if you're worried about not wanting to make the person upset, I'll just say this:  they'll get over it.  And so will you.  No one's life is going to be ruined because you are no longer together.  Put on your big boy/girl underwear and cowboy/cowgirl up.

3)  Trust.  An LDR will help you build trust with a person quicker than just about any situation.  Since you are not with them, you have only to trust that they are truthful about where they are, who they're with, and what they're doing.  In some sense, it requires more blind faith than a relationship where you see each other every day, but if you are transparent about what you do and who you are, the trust you build while separated can only lead to positive outcomes together.

4)  And while you're building this awesome trust, remember that the buck has to stop somewhere.  The LDR is not an indefinite arrangement.  If it's been 6 months and there has been no talk between the two of you about the potential of making this LDR just an R without the LD, it's time to cut bait.

Take it from a woman with experience.  A man who knows he can string you along will unravel that string as far as he can and tell you whatever he knows you need to hear to keep it going.  Same thing is true for the ladies.  Don't fall into that trap.  You are worth more than that.  Words and months of texts, e-mails, and calls with someone you genuinely enjoy are amazing, but unless you can see some progression toward action to accompany those words, that's all they are.

In that case you should LDR yourself.  Leave, and Don't Rationalize.

        

A note to anyone who wants to date me

It's not always easy being the man in my life. I'm sure every woman can say that with some modicum of truth. I am no different.  

But I can say that dating me is sometimes an adventure in ways that dating someone else might not be. 

1.  Strange people follow me. 

I am often approached by people who are homeless, random people on the street who take an unsolicited interest in my life, or the occasional passerby. 

This phenomenon generally occurs for 1 of 2 reasons:

a) The person wants to tell me how inspirational I am or tell us how inspirational we are. This happens everywhere. At the movies. At the grocery store. Stepping outside my front door. 

And the "inspirational status" won't just apply to me. Once strangers ascertain the fact that we are together, they'll let you know how wonderful you are, too. 

"Oh, you're such a good person," they'll say. Or, "You're so wonderful for helping her."  Chances are, at the time that they say this, you won't be doing anything particularly wonderful or helpful or good, but strangers will want to give you an extra gold star just for hanging around me. 

(I'm not saying you wouldn't deserve one, but I'm saying it would be more for putting up with my sometimes irrational thought processes and enduring watching the Bachelor on Mondays than it would for carrying my coffee or getting my arm braces out of the car). 

Get ready to make a whole lot of inspiration porn for random people. Yes, that's a thing, and it's not dirty. It deserves a blog post of its own... so ask if you don't know. 

b) The second type of concerned passerby will approach us trying to help. They might give us unsolicited advice on the simplest things-- things we've done many times before-- getting groceries into or out of the car, going up steps, or walking in the rain. They will want to offer their assistance. 

This type of approach bothers me much less than the inspiration porn seeker, because these people are just trying to be helpful, to do something good for their fellow man. 

However, these interactions can be a bit intrusive and stalkerish at times. Case and point: I had gone to Starbucks last week with a friend. I got my order and tucked it in the front pocket of my bag with a straw as we headed to the car. 

A man, who had been watching us inside the store, follows us outside, almost to our car, and asks my friend, "Where's her order?"  He had not seen me pick it up, I guess, and was concerned that he didn't see her carrying it out. 

I told him, "I have it right here," and pointed to the cup in my bag. He never addressed me, and he left. 

2. Which brings me to my next point: People will talk to you to address me. 

They will ask you what I want to eat at a restaurant. They will hand my purchases to you. They will treat you as though you are speaking for me. 

They will often assume you are my brother, personal caregiver, cousin, assistant, whatever. 

Sometimes, this is frustrating for me. Sometimes, it will be frustrating for you. But try to stay calm. These types of people are clearly ignorant... because if they can't see why someone would want to hang around me for more than a paycheck, they are missing out. 

Of course, you should also be aware that if you show me any type of affection in front of one of these people, they will gawk. 

People with disabilities don't date. We aren't sexy. We don't get married. And we can't have families. You'll be debunking myths everyday, just by your decision to be with me. 

(Hey, maybe I should give you a gold star.)

3. I am a person with a disability. I am proud of it. Be aware of this fact. It is not something I want to change. It is not something YOU need to make allowances for. It is beautiful, and natural,  and a part of me that has helped me build many of the personality traits and characteristics that I love about myself. 

It is a part of me that follows me everywhere-- to work, at home. Out on the town, and you may find yourself introduced to new ways of thinking because of it. 

 

People first language. 

Crappy para transit services. 

Incessant planning for extended travel. 

My disability pride is a part of me that I want to share with you. I want you to be proud of it too, because it is part of my culture, and if you are with me, it will become a part of yours. 

Be prepared to listen to my rants about inadequate housing, employment discrimination,  rights of parents with disabilities, inaccessible buildings, ignorant people at work, websites that blind people can't use, the whole Netflix debacle, whatever. 

These are things that are important to me. They are a part of my fight for civil rights. For mine. For yours. Four ours. 

I say all that to say that even  though I am a passionate advocate, I will also be your girlfriend. 

The girl who loves lazy Saturdays, cooking for you, sending packages, church on Sundays, coffee, guacamole, chihuahuas, French, and music. 

The girl who thinks morbid thoughts at night, who is so concerned about your well being that she sometimes sounds like a mother, who will make sure she tells you every day how important you are. 

The girl who does what she says she's going to do, says what she means to say (except in cases of extreme hyperbole) and always, always, always loves you with her whole heart. 

Yes, it's true that its not easy being with me. But it is equally true that I'm 125% worth it.