Why you won’t want to date me

What one can expect to find if they continue after reading and understanding the rules:

My heart enclosed. The gates locked. Bridge is up and the moat is full. With vicious crocodiles. And piranhas.

As I sit here, pouting like a petulant toddler who’s discovered she has to share her candy, I realize how hard I am to please. I have always been the caretaker. That role, after doing it for years becomes exhaustive.

Every single relationship I have been in I end up being in total control. I am the one making all the plans, paying all the bills and ensuring that life continues along tickety-boo. And now I have independence and the only ones I need to worry about are T and myself.

So I have come up with 10 things I need to warn the opposite sex of. About me. And my requirements. For my non- relationship. With a man who can take care of himself.

1) I do not want a relationship. However I do not want to share you. So get use to it.

2) I want a text. Not a thousand times a day but a good morning, a hey in the afternoon and a good night. So I know I have flitted across your mind.

4) I want to hang out with you. But I don’t. So just sit there until you figure it out. I will continue to read my Kindle.

5) I want to talk to you. Sometimes I will actually want you to participate in the conversation. Wait for the extended pause and dive in there.

6) I am a little bit crazy. But just a little bit, most of my friends will tell you it is barely noticeable.

7) I have anxiety attacks. There is no rhyme or reason they strike from no where. Just talk to me calmly about anything so I can focus and ask you questions.

8) I am not certain I want overnight company. I now sleep diagonally across my king size bed. Debating if I want to share.

9) I live with depression. That means some days I am sad. There is nothing you can do about it. Give me a hug and kiss and I will be okay. Some cuddles are nice too.

10) I am extremely emotional. I cry at commercials. I get mad at stupid stuff. I feel things very differently.

Truthfully, I am forwarning most men.  I am a weird woman. I want my independence. I want to be taken care of. I want to be respected.

T and me had a conversation recently. He wanted to know when I was going to get a boyfriend. I phfft’d and said I did not need a boyfriend.That I was more than capable of doing what was needed. He looked at me and asked ‘ you just needed one to help you put together my bed, right mom?’  (I so could have put his bed together but a friend with a drill is much more helpful)

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Wonder where he gets it?

This has certainly been a week of discoveries. I took holidays this July (1 week only) for the first time in 3 years. And T and me spent this week up with my mom. Whom I love with all my heart. But lordy spending all this time in a three bedroom smallish cabin is enough to make a woman tear her hair out. Even when T is with me we still have time apart. He goes outside to play, I get fifteen minutes of silence.

On Wednesday I announced to mom that I required 15 minutes, just 15 to go for a walk by myself and rebalance. This was way too much together time. She huffed. T waved as I walked away. I tried to explain later to her why it was required but am not sure that she really got it.

Which leads me to the ‘wonder where he gets it’? T and mom started butting heads on Tuesday I believe it was. Monday when we arrived it was gorgeous out. Mom and GU-S (great uncle-mom’s youngest brother) immediately put T to work. I sat on the deck soaking up the sun and reading. I was to build the fire. There was too much in the fire pit and anyways once I got the fire started the uncle took over.

Tuesday though, was bleak and rainy. Windy too. We were all on top of one another and I allowed T to play his video games on the phone. Not my phone lol but a phone his dad had given him. No sim card but GU-S had hooked him up to the internet so it was all good. I had checked these games the night before and had no issues with him playing. Did I maybe allow him to play too much and too long? Mom certainly thought so while I was just happy that I was not subjected to the boredom song. And this was when the smart mouth and constant desire to be last came to the forefront.

I have never realized, and that may be because he does not pull it that often with me, that T has a need to have the final word. But oh lordy, once mom pointed it out to me, I heard it. I saw it occurring. There were a lot of warning low grumbles of ‘T that is enough.’ There was mom telling me that I needed to nip this in the bud or I would end up regretting it. T was being a smartass and for the most part I could deal but not when I was getting it from both sides.

Wednesday also dawned grey and wet. Oh lordy not another day spent inside with these two! I was not sure that I was going to be able to handle it. (Thankfully T’s little friend KJ had arrived on Tuesday evening and eventually the sun broke through allowing me to sit in the back reading and chilling and getting my shore up time.) Mom asked me a few questions to which I shot back some smartass comments. She than pointed out to me that it wasn’t a wonder T had a smart mouth he learned it from me.

T is always right. He will twist and turn his facts to prove he is right. He also, with mom it seems, needs to have the last word. Mom and me were talking about something, I cannot remember what now but she made a comment and she says to me ‘well I wonder where T has learned the smartass behaviour and need to be last.’ ‘I do not always have to have the last word and I wonder where I learned it from?’ an arched eyebrow as I looked at her.

‘Jay, I am funny not sarcastic and you always have to have the last word.’ She is opening the door to go in. ‘I do not.’ I retort quite like the 8 year old son I have. Mom looks at me and just shakes her head.

I never have noticed that I require the last word. I rarely argue with anyone any more. I do not argue with folks at work, nor do I talk enough to my bro to have any arguments. Which leaves only T and myself. And usually those arguments end with one or both of us in angry tears. And I always get the last word in as the parent.

This picture was taken on Thursday after a huge battle before leaving the cabin. Mom wanted to do her laundry. T had a fight with KJ. He was not pleased that he had to go to Winnipeg Beach with us. There was yelling. I took the phone away and he was reduced to tears. I also threatened to put him in the car myself if he didn’t get in there. Not sure how I would have accomplished that as he is a very solid little boy.

Once in Winnipeg Beach, I made him come along on our walk, threatening that I could not leave him in the car as it was illegal. The RCMP would arrest me for child endangerment. I made him hold my hand as we walked. T was less than thrilled with me.

As he stomped along pouting, mom and me walked behind him talking about this and that. Until he saw the play structure, with boys playing. Mom had intentionally guided us that way. We left him to play while we took a short stroll. Mom wanted to get some pics of me so I told T where we were headed and I would come back for him. Everyone was happy.

After we were done, mom headed back to the laundry mat to get her clothes and I went off to collect T. Who was heading towards me, a little distraught. He had come looking for mom and me and may have panicked a wee bit when I was not where I said that I was going to be.

As we walked along, he informed me that he loved me. And he held onto me. Of his own volition. I made him stop and took this picture of us. We were both happy and in a good mood. I got him ice cream. And one for mom.

More and more do I see myself in T. I am sure that when he is with his dad, his dad sees all sorts of habits/behaviours that are just like his own. I do believe (and this might be wishful thinking) that more and more, his internal unseen building blocks are more like mine. He is tenacious and sarcastic and stubborn. He spins fiction into facts and they sound good. He is my son.

Apple…..Tree

I am a rather sarcastic person. My humor tends to be a little rough. Not quite as rough as fart jokes, but it can be a little rough. I make smart ass  comments in an aside to M all the time. Than we giggle like little school girls. However, I never realized quite how much T takes after me until last evening.

Soccer practice was cancelled due to rain. Rain had stopped but the fields were a mess so Thursday it will be an hour and a half practice. (Wohoooooooo) T and me are at home and I have informed him that he must come and help me with the dishes. All I needed for him to do was put the dishes away. First we bartered about how much money this was going to earn him. I informed him that at the end of the week I would let him know how much money he earned so long as he did what I asked.

This lead to a conversation of how unfair it was, that none of his other friends ever had to do chores. I responded with ‘I am not their parent, I am yours. And to teach you to be a responsible adult, you are going to learn to do chores. Do you know why buddy?’ He looks at me like I am crazy. ‘Because life as an adult is one never ending chore. I clean the house, I do laundry, I work, I make your lunch, I cook dinner, I do and do and do……with the possibility of getting fifteen minutes in at the end of the day, before I fall asleep.’

He stared at me and blinked his eyes before grabbing the cutting board and asking where it went. Our conversation as he put away the plates, the wine glasses, was the daily things all people talk about. Nothing you would attach significance to. Finally as the sink is empty of all put the cutlery I begin to wash the dishes.

I had been making a steak last week to a request of rare. I had never ever cooked a steak rare, I am a well done kinda girl. So I had my probe thermometer out and googled it to ensure I had the right temperature and score!!!! I did it. That aside, it was in the sink with the cutlery, stem pointing up so I cautioned T to be careful so he didn’t poke himself. He proceeds to take the thermometer out and spin it around the counter. By now I have washed my cutlery twice and want to rinse it off and put in other sink to dry.

‘Hey buddy, do you think you could take the cutlery out? Just grab it and put on counter. Than you can put in the drawer.’

‘Sure mom.’ And he does. Grabbing two pieces of cutlery at a time. Two!

I can feel my jaw clench as I grind my back teeth. Like seriously grab all the cutlery.

‘Dude what are you doing? Grab some more. Like this’

I reach over and scoop up all the cutlery and dump it on the counter. I look at him standing behind me and he is grinning from ear to ear.

‘Like dude, seriously why didn’t you do that?’

‘Because mom, there might have been something in there that would have poked me.’

And his eight year old voice took on that forced falsetto all men do when they are imitating women. Only he was mocking his mother! I stared at him for a minute as my brain tried to process the fact that my child had just turned my words around on me in the perfect sarcastic play that I actually envy. I played right into his clever little hands. (We all know he didn’t plan it; it just played out this way) I tried to glare but he knew I was faking as I hollered ‘why you little booger!’ T chortled with glee and I kicked him in the butt and we both laughed.

Honestly as I write this I am giggling away. He is so much like me that it is unbelievable. He is also so much like his father. And yet, he is so uniquely himself. This little boy, no not even, he is becoming a young man….the evolution is slow and I hope it will be good, but he is no longer my little baby. As funny as he is.

****I did not come up with this title. I stole it from a friend who said this to me after I told ’em the story.