Day...4

When you're in a relationship and you start having "sleep overs" men and women are always on their best behavior. You make absolutely certain to brush your teeth before bed, wear your sexiest pajamas, if any at all, you avoid foods that will give you bad breath or, heaven forbid, gas. Some women even go as far as brushing their hair and applying a little lip gloss right before climbing under the sheets. Sleep overs early on are so great. And exhausting!

Once you take that leap to living together, those things all fly out the window. I'm now too tired to brush my teeth every single night before bed. I figure I do it twice during the day, what does it matter if I miss the nightly routine? And who in their right mind sleeps nude? Not me, I say. Flannel pants and over sized T-shirts are the comfortable way to go, while sporting zit cream instead of lip gloss. What can I say? Practicality takes over when you are comfortable in your relationship.

And those aren't the only things that have changed since I started sleeping with Alex. (And I don't mean "bumpin' uglies" or "doin' the nasty".) He seems to think that I snore. And I know I didn't snore before so why would I snore now? I woke up this morning and he wasn't even in bed with me. He was sleeping on the couch. The couch!? Isn't that where one sleeps when fighting with ones partner? Not because you imagine she is snoring. Now, I have heard him saw a few logs in his time and yet, I still lay next to him in agony. Why can't he suffer the same? I wondered, briefly, if I should get some of those sticky, nose strip thingys but...why? I apparently get the whole bed to myself now. I guess it's not a horrible trade-off.

I did manage to drag my lazy ass to the swimming pool this morning to burn off some of those imaginary Bon-Bons that keep sneaking into my dreams. It was touch and go for a few minutes when I thought I might drown. But then I realized I was in the shallow end and everything seemed okay from that point on. That is, until my lungs started burning and my breath was seeming to come in much shorter spurts. I'm just not sure swimming is the thing for me. I did buy a pass so I'm gonna have to go another time or two to make it worth it. Shit. If those 80 year old women can jiggle themselves into a swim suit and strap a foam belt around themselves, there is no reason I can't make it just one more day.

I showered in the locker room at the pool and strutted my stuff with confidence. Only because all of the "fit" girls who go swimming were already and work and I was left showering next to the jiggle sisters. The certainly looked at me with envy. This is what my life has come to? Trying to make poor grandmothers envious? I need to get out of the house more often.

After cheer practice, I stopped at the grocery store to pick up some supplies for the yummy meal I had slaved over all day to prepare...via crockpot. But when I walked in the door, what do you think I saw? No, nothing that frightening. But sitting there, right on the counter, was a vase with a dozen red roses and a thoughtful card from Alex. You see? Sometimes things just work out. All the little things are forgotten and I can see the bigger picture. I have the best boyfriend in the world!

Day four was a great day!

Day...3...

You know sometimes, late at night, when you have nothing else to do so you decide to watch infomercials? We all do it, even if secretly. Well, Alex happens to be one of the very few people I know who actually buys that crap. Specifically, the GTXpress 101. Or, in other words, the glorified electric grilled cheese maker. As it turns out, the thing works and is kind of even...fun. You can grab anything out of your fridge and shove it in this little grill and...viola! It's a meal.

So, this morning I get up with the intention of making a quick breakfast in GT, as we'll call it now, and so I get excited and start throwing in a little of this and a little of that. My daughter and I manage to choke down our unusual creation while Alex's breakfast cooks. And he has the nerve to saunter into the kitchen, kiss me and say good-bye. I look at him, like, uhhh, excuse me! I'm slaving over your breakfast right now! I must have said it while my head was spinning around because he grabbed a paper towel, removed the food from the GT and left. I proceed to go about my day like it was no big deal. Until...

Did I mention that I coach high school cheerleading? Yes. I'm a glorified mother/babysitter/warden. Or as I've heard the girls refer to me, The Cheer Nazi. Anyway, so I'm at the high school track waiting for the cheerleaders to finish warming up and Alex walks up. He is holding a portable GPS unit for a project he intends to conduct in his Social Studies class and he has not yet figured out how to outsmart the miniature electronic device. While listening to him think out loud about how to figure this out, I hear him say "this is just how my day is going. First I'm yelled at about breakfast..." I, of course, stop listening at that point. Yelled at about breakfast?! I'm thinking...WHAT? You wanna see yell, buddy?! I certainly hadn't yelled.

Now, I'm wondering, had the tables been turned and he had made me breakfast before leaving for work and I was about to walk out without eating that breakfast, would he have reacted the same way I had? And this little situation could, and I'm not saying it will, but it could, turn into a much bigger situation. If we let it, of course, and we won't. But how do you point that out to your partner? Do you simply say "hey, Buck-O. I made it, now you eat it." Or do you forget about it and throw away the food? There is a little, teensy weensy part of me that wants to take that as a sign that he no longer wants me to cook him breakfast. So all of those times when I wake up and make banana pancakes or stuffed french toast or scrambled eggs or whatever, I should simply make enough for my daughter and me and he can settle for plain oatmeal with black coffee. But I won't because it isn't the nice thing to do and I am a nice person. Okay, maybe I'm not but I'm also not an evil bitch so I'll have to find a middle ground.

This self help book we're reading, that lied about him not being able to read my mind, says we should praise each other five times as much as we criticize each other. Is that like saying Hail Mary's after you've sinned? I don't even know what that means, so I hope not.

Have you ever stopped and paid attention to how much you praise and criticize someone? It's was a frightening revelation for me. And now that we live together, there is so much more involved in deciding what to praise. Now, if I tell him how sexy I find him, he will spend more time at the gym NOT being lazy with me. But if I tell him how much I enjoyed the dinner he made, he might actually cook more. That, my friends, would not be a good thing. Somehow, I need to make a list of specific praises that I can use and keep recycling. For example, "I really like the jeans you are wearing, sweetie pie." And maybe that will result in him spending less time at the gym and more time with me...shopping. You see where I'm going with this?

So, this is all I have for today. We've managed to make it through another 24 hours of domestic bliss. Stay tuned for more...peace out!

Day...2...

I vaguely remember waking in the early morning to Alex telling me he is going to the gym. This is what I live with. Wake up, go to the gym. Get off work, go to the gym. Relaxing on the couch, dreaming of eating Bon-Bons, and watch him doing push-ups and other such activities that you couldn't pay me to do. I frequently enjoy gazing at his beautifully sculpted body but couldn't he look that way and still have time to sit on the couch being lazy with me? I suppose this means I should keep the Bon-Bons in the dreams and burn some calories, too.

On the bright side, when I fully awoke from my lazy, sleep induced stupor, the coffee was brewed, creamer was in the fridge and breakfast was being cooked. Now, this is the life. We are reading a self help book on how to have a "healthy" relationship and in this book it says to remember that your partner is not a mind reader. But do you see how real life contradicts that statement in my case? I wanted coffee and food, he made me coffee and food. Therefore, it is my personal opinion that it's okay if I think MY boyfriend can read my mind. We'll see how that works out for me.

I have to admire some of the adventures Alex is willing to join me on now that we live together. Today we took my 11 year-old daughter to the pumpkin patch and then to a 3 year-old princess birthday party. The pumpkin quest wasn't so bad. Except that they didn't provide wheel barrows or anything to transport the pumpkins so he ended up carrying all of them for us. And as it turns out, my daughter inherited from me the desire to have the biggest and best of everything. Therefore, he totted around the two biggest pumpkins this farm had to offer. I suppose it's a good thing he pumps iron so frequently, now that I think about it.

We are home from our busy day now and I am reminded of all the reasons I decided to make this move in the first place. He endures family outtings, he fixes the shower head the first time I ask, he is motivated and...he reads, which I love. I watch him while he sits in his chair, reading a book I'm sure would put me to sleep faster than a bottle of sedatives and all I can think is how lucky I am. He is currently resembling Harry Potter, in his round reading glasses. That is, if Harry were nearing 40, darker skinned and had no scar on his forehead. But the magic, he's got that. And I intend to put that wand to work tonight. Oh, I think he is reading my mind again. Time to say good-night.

Day...1...?

Two summers ago, when Alex and I first met, I hoped I wouldn't have to break another heart or fight off another stalker. (Ok, maybe that's stretching it a teensy bit.) I certainly had no hope or desire of it turning into something, for lack of a better term, serious. Somewhere along the line, a terribly unexpected thing happened...I fell in love. The doctors tell me there is no prescription to fix this ailment. And Jack, Johnny and Jose can't make it go away, even temporarily. I'm in big trouble.

When Alex recently asked me to move in with him, I believe "shocked" would describe my reaction. It wasn't something I had expressed any interest in doing and it came out of left field, as far as I'm concerned. Although, after several months of consideration (maybe it was a day or two but who's counting) I decided it was a great idea. I think those exact words may have even passed my lips on more than one occasion. My thought was, I have this great relationship with this GREAT man, what could be better than being able to see him anytime I want? Take a moment, won't you, to add this to the list of other famous last words: We don't need a condom, I'll just pull out; It'll only hurt for a second; and my favorite, WATCH THIS.

It's been a month since we moved in. And that first week was nothing short of amazing. I couldn't wait to wake up in the morning to make us a pot of coffee and cook breakfast and then rush home to make us a nice dinner and then just sit next to him on our new couch doing, well, anything. I would lay in bed watching him sleep (cut to "Psycho" soundtrack) just thinking about how perfect my life had become.

That was the first week. And this is now...

I find myself laying in bed, forcing my eyes to stay closed longer than his, just hoping that HE will make ME breakfast today. And think to myself damn him for liking his coffee black and not even CARING if there is no creamer in the fridge for MY coffee! And as I lay in bed at night, hoping that he will find my Hanes sweatpants and stained T-shirt pajamas be be repulsive enough to find me resistable for this night, I'm now thinking to myself How in the HELL to people make this shit work?!

What Alex and I have going for ourselves, other than my looks and his brains, of course, is that we truly did have a great relationship before taking this enormous step. We had already ironed out the kinks that most couples who don't live together end up facing. However, now we are faced with so many obstacles in our everyday lives that risk ruining this Christine And Alex Show. I can honestly say that had I thought this would be so challenging, I would have run the other way. But I'm no quitter. Certainly not now that I sold all of my belongings and rented out my house.

One of my solutions...start a blog. I recently saw the movie "Julie & Julia" and together, with only minimal protest, we decided that it might be beneficial for other couples moving in together to read about some of the little issues and how we deal with them, or don't. It could even be better than therapy. For me, that is. (Although, feel free to pay me for my time if you feel I have helped you in any way.)

I am going to tell you my feelings, good, bad AND ugly, every single day and see if, at the end of 365 days, we are still living. I mean together, of course.