In Spite of Ourselves…

My birthday is this week – Saturday to be specific – and I will be turning the corner at 37^. Woo. I can hear my little nine-year-old self saying “What the hell happened to us?!” but the other me’s that represent all the other phases of my life are pretty much in consensus: “We’ll take some crow’s feet, a few ‘very-close’ veins’ and slowing down a little over being a kid again ANYday. We’re relatively safe, happy, and free, and nobody will ever get away with kicking our ass, starving, torturing or humiliating us again. And if we see or know that they’re doing that to any other kids, we’ll fix their little red wagon PERMANENTLY.” It’s funny how little it takes to please your inner child…

There’s another anniversary this week as well. Two years ago, on the night before my birthday, Chris took me to Asheville to see a comedy show. It was a nice night. I wore a pretty dress, hoping he’d flirt a little, and wrote a pretty good poem in the intermission. That night, I would have never even hoped, much less guessed that Chris and I would have a shot at “happily ever after”, or even be a part of the comedy troupe that we enjoyed so much that night. (Oh, how fate loves to skwudge the Play-Do that is the human psyche!) We didn’t start dating until early October because, as Chris told me recently, he thought I was involved with the friend with whom I went kayaking on my birthday that year (what a great day that was, too. Hi Rob!). I’ve always thought of that as our ‘first date’ though, because it was certainly the first date I’d had in a loooonnng time, it was a very “date-like” evening, and it really was the beginning of our mooshiness. It was the early morning of October 5 when we had our first kiss, and later that next evening (still on the 5^th), when he showed up at my house (with a good movie and dinner plans, as he’d done at least a half dozen times before - but never after A Kiss…) and just quietly, sweetly, and I believe permanently merged into my life. We never talked about dating, we never had any wishy-washiness, doubts or discussions, he just fell into step with the rhythm of my life, *bink*, just like that – like magic. Like you always hear it’s supposed to happen.

Two years later, and I can’t believe that I could be so lucky. I wonder if maybe I’ve finally paid off enough of my (apparently ENORMOUS) karmic debt to have earned this kind of relationship. Chris tells me ever day – many times a day – how much he cares for and appreciates me, and even better, he shows me how much. It feels forever, and despite the fact that I felt sure that it could never happen to me, and that even if it did I would never be whole enough to handle it, it feels good.

The whole “love” thing has always seemed like a mystery to me. People use it so easily and put so much store in it, but the word itself has no clear definition or meaning. It has, at the very least, six billion shades of meaning, and in many cases, no meaning at all. But words like admiration, respect, desire, loyalty, faith, selflessness, protection and faith have very clear meanings and definitions to most of us. Those are the things that I feel for Chris, and that he obviously feels for me. When we say love – those are the things that we mean. We talk about the things that concern or trouble us, we apologize to each other when we forget and become human for a little while, we long for one another’s company, we live together as peacefully as any good family I’ve ever known. Weirdest and wonderfulest of all is the fact that we both knew from the very early days that we were going to be together as long as the universe would allow us to be.

We’re both a little crazy (ok, Chris is a little crazy and I have gone through one side of loony and out the other, but whatever… ;), we’re both terribly human, and we bicker a good bit. There are still a lot of places where our gears don’t mesh, and there are things that we have to work really hard at, but we both look forward to working at it every day.

We agree on all of the most important things. We’ve talked about the whole… marriage thing (*shudder*), basically because it matters to Chris’ mom, and because we may need to do it for some practical purpose one day. We’d both rather not, but it doesn’t scare either of us to think about it. We are both very strongly against having children, even though we both love them and enjoy their company, and we’re against it for the same reasons, despite our very different upbringing. We both agree that “six billion miracles are ENOUGH”. We know that there are far, far, far, far, far too many needy children already here, abandoned, suffering, starving to be so selfish as to have our own, to draw even more resources from this desperate world. And we know that neither of us is truly capable of raising children – even adopted ones – the way they need to be raised. We’re good people, we work hard, we live decently, we’re loving, and we work hard at healing our mental and emotional scars every day – but we have the good sense to know that we will probably never be whole enough to raise children the way we should. We are both capable of recognizing the fact that we would – despite our capacity for love and care – raise broken children, and we could never forgive ourselves for that. I only wish that the majority of the population could be so honest and aware. We also share the same basic opinions on religion, politics and money – but we can debate movies, music, art, and the intricacies of philosophy for … well, hopefully til’ death does us part. We care deeply about each others’ passions, we understand and respect each other’s boundaries, and we care deeply about, and are dedicated to healing one another’s pain. Chris and I both know that his job is a lot harder than mine. He’s ok with that, and that makes me want to work extra-hard to lighten his load.

I like my orc-boys, but in my honest places, like my journals, my comics and my dreams, my perfect guy has always been like Chris. He is beautiful, tall and slim with a gorgeous face and curly floppy brown hair; he’s totally dorky, driven by his art, funny, smart, sensitive, capable; he loves robots and sci-fi and 80’s music; he is sweetly goofy and hates sports; he dresses cool, he dances like a complete spaz, but he dances; he’s not picky about food, he likes adventure and doesn’t care to be tied down by STUFF… and he is so veryvery good to me… probably better than I really deserve, but hey, I’m not going to argue, and I’m damned sure going to keep trying to be worthy.

Having another birthday this close to 40 is a bit queasifying (and yes, he and I – and thank god, his wonderful family – are all ok with that bit of it too…) but knowing that this is also when I can celebrate the beginning of my good fortune in the family department (FINALLY!) eases not only the fear of the future but a lot of the pain of the past.

Yay, me!

Much love,
-s

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She don't like her eggs all runny
She thinks crossin' her legs is funny
She looks down her nose at money
She gets it on like the Easter Bunny
She's my baby I'm her honey
I'm never gonna let her go

He ain't got laid in a month of Sundays
I caught him once and he was sniffin' my undies
He ain't too sharp but he gets things done
Drinks his beer like it's oxygen
He's my baby
And I'm his honey
Never gonna let him go

In spite of ourselves
We'll end up a'sittin' on a rainbow
Against all odds
Honey, we're the big door prize
We're gonna spite our noses
Right off of our faces
There won't be nothin' but big old hearts
Dancin' in our eyes.

She thinks all my jokes are corny
Convict movies make her horny
She likes ketchup on her scrambled eggs
Swears like a sailor when shaves her legs
She takes a lickin'
And keeps on tickin'
I'm never gonna let her go.

He's got more balls than a big brass monkey
He's a whacked out weirdo and a lovebug junkie
Sly as a fox and crazy as a loon
Payday comes and he's howlin' at the moon
He's my baby I don't mean maybe
Never gonna let him go

In spite of ourselves
We'll end up a sittin' on a rainbow
Against all odds
Honey, we're the big door prize
We're gonna spite our noses
Right off of our faces
There won't be nothin' but big old hearts
Dancin' in our eyes.
There won't be nothin' but big old hearts
Dancin' in our eyes.

In spite of ourselves

***
In Spite of Ourselves
©John Prine
(sung with Iris DeMent)