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I Need My Husband


My future husband isn’t here yet. I know someday, he’ll arrive. I don’t know what he looks like, but I can tell you how he’ll behave. That’s the most important thing, when it comes to love, anyway.

I should tell you before I begin that everything I type here to show how I’d like him to behave is how I will also aspire to behave. It is my duty to fill in the gaps and cracks, it is my duty to bring my half of the equation, it is my duty to prove my eternal love. No one should be left in a vacuum, endlessly trying to captivate their partner’s attention and goodwill. No one should be left to do all the work by themselves. No one should have to give more than 100% of themselves, for this is to tire them out, wear them thin, and break the covenant that I preach about.

My future husband takes care of himself first of all. He does his own laundry, he puts his dishes in the sink, he unloads the dishwasher, he showers as frequently as necessary to be deemed ‘clean,’ he washes his hands, he works with his hands, he knows how to cook and clean house. He doesn’t have to take out the garbage unless I’m too sick or weak to do it myself. Screw gender norms. Take the jobs you like doing and I will do the rest because I will do the needful. I will step up into that responsibility and take care of it. But if you’re the man of my dreams, you won’t make me do all of it. You’ll split the chores with me 50/50 and, as needed, we’ll switch roles to “keep it fresh.”

Understand I am no maid and neither are you. I am not your hand servant. I am not your china doll, your blowup doll, or any sort of doll. But I am still delicate, despite it all. I don’t expect you to be a Ken Doll. If either of us are dolls, let’s be old school G.I. Joes together and kick ass while we chew bubblegum.

I want you to step into your role with a smile on your face, even if you don’t want to clean the toilets this week. I did it with a smile, so can you. We’re going to change which chores we’re responsible for on a weekly basis so we don’t over-develop certain muscles in comparison to others. So we don’t get stuck in a loop where one of us misses an integral spot until it’s disgusting beyond belief. So we don’t get too comfortable. So we don’t look down on each other for any reason. It is our space. You better act like it.

I have a home for everything I own, so will you, Deli Man. If you’re not a deli man, you better have some sort of professional experience cooking meals, because I need you to save me from myself. That’s right. Save the princess from herself. It’s a terribly burdensome quest, I assure you, but there is a treasure chest at the end of this party quest. [Alestorm]

By having a place for everything to rest, life can be tidy. Life can be organized. Chores become smaller and easier. It’s not a struggle to figure out what to do with an item because it has a place to go. I know the hardest item to find a home for is a vacuum, for me. I don’t know about you, Deli Man. Perhaps you have a solution for that which I have never thought of. I invite you to bring it. I will concede that I am not perfect and your idea is wondrous and I will adopt it, no questions asked. That is what I expect out of you, too, instead of clinging to who is “right” and who is “wrong.” We’re in this together, you know, so we should both be right at the end. Two brains are better than one. Two perspectives are better than none.

I only wish to dwell inside my body 10% of the time. The other 90% of the time should be spent on ideas, great and small. I should be solving things like saving the bees, at least on a local level. Solution: plant a bee garden. No honey for us, either; that’s exploitation of a dying species. It’s wrong. I have two bee hives on my property already, Deli Man, so you best not be allergic or it’s probably going to end horrifically. Sorry to disqualify about half the world’s available male population just like that, but it is what it is.

Instead of mowing the lawn thoughtlessly on a weekly basis, wasting precious fossil fuels and putting pollutants in the air, I want you to help me design and employ a hands-free garden. It needs to feed the bees and be attractive. It needs to address potential erosion. It needs to be a garden I don’t have to water, even if there’s a month without rain. Drought-resistant, in short. It must feed the bees and the birds and the butterflies and whatever else is out there. Lady bugs and praying manti, I imagine. I like roses, too, but maybe I don’t have room for those even though I have a corner lot with tons of yard space.

Understand that although I have a cherry tree, the birds eat the cherries long before I figure out there are any to eat. Understand that I have two apple trees, but I miss the point of harvest or they are all wormy by the time harvest comes. I know we can solve for that, but I’m sick right now. Also God decided that’s your job: figure out the fix and we can employ it… together.

Expect to do most work with your new partner. I might not be able to lift or carry much these days, or even dig for hours like I wish to, but I can at least keep you company and do my best to strive alongside you until I am better. Some day, I will no longer be sick. I’m working on the cure now. The cure is chlorophyll. I don’t like this answer, but it’s the answer God gave me. He wants me to eat wheat grass. I ask him why, since he told me wheat is poison these days. I don’t want to eat wheat grass. Why not oat grass, like my cats? I can pretend to be a cat. I’m not as cute as cats, but I can certainly try: Meow.

Adopt my cats and I’ll adopt yours and they will live together harmoniously without issue. God says you have a twelve year old cat named Trixie. That’s a cute name, I like it. I imagine her to be a calico, though that’s just me. God has nothing to do with that one.

Expect to give (and receive) massages. My back hurts all the bloody time and I hate it. Although we’ve been working on it for 1 year, 4 months, and 12 days, it still fucking hurts. It’s a fact of life and has been for half of my life. Car accidents suck ass. Anyway, I like to give what I get, so expect a sensual rub-down if not a full blown massage. After all, it’s the least I can do for your gift: feeling substantially less pain.

You better like hugs and kisses because I run on them. If you stop giving me either, I’m booting your ass to the curb. I will never, ever allow myself to be in a relationship with a whiny bitch who gives me excuses why I get neither. I also demand cuddles, so many cuddles. Couch cuddles, floor cuddles (when the opportunity arises), bedroom cuddles. ALL THE CUDDLES. I needs them. So if you don’t, step aside. I will find myself a real man.

Your words matter. Every single word you utter to me has a chance of becoming indelible in my brain. If you lie, it will hurt me to learn that you lied, because what I took as fact has turned into fiction. I know we’re all flawed, just be yourself, you nincompoop. And understand that whining, bitching, moaning, complaining, and anything of that sort is the “OFF SWITCH” for the rest of the night, if not eternity. My neighbor came upon me one day shortly after I moved in, trying to make friends with me. Not a single word out of her mouth was anything but complaint. I get it, she’s in pain. SO AM I, SO STFU ALREADY AND CHANGE SOMETHING SO YOU’RE IN LESS PAIN.

God wrote that. And we won’t be apologizing. Life is pain, get over it.

The Four Noble Truths from LearnReligions.com

If you can get over the fact that you must suffer simply to prove you are alive, then you will become enlightened very quickly indeed. Who doesn’t want to be a Buddha or Messiah?

Me, that’s who. I’m tired of the rest of humanity. Lover boy, I have no friends, nor do I wish for any. I want you and only you. (And my cats, your cat, and my twenty projects to make humans more like me instead of me turning into them.)

At any rate, I also expect you to speak truthfully about your romantic past. We all have one, especially the older we get. I will learn your perspective by understanding your history and how you speak of it. I will know whether or not your heart is free to move on to a relationship with me. If you try to keep it to yourself, I will assume the worst. My imagination is incredible and I assure you that I routinely think up dark things that most people would never jump to. Only you have the power to stop my mental forest fire. [Thanks, Smokey.]

People who hurt you in your past have shaped you into something you weren’t meant to grow into in the present. You can only undo the pain and suffering they cause once you see a perspective like mine on top of your own. Remember one thing: I’m on your side, no matter what, but I will tell you if you are an oafish ass if you are, as well. I expect you to do one thing about it: stop. That’s it. You don’t have to apologize. You just have to determine how to do better and do it. This is the power The Universe(TM) gave you to deal with this lifetime. Use it wisely, boy.

I know you believe in God because he shares with me some of the things you tell him. You call him “dad” actually, which I think is sweet. Innocent. Cute. Endearing. Authentic and vulnerable. Don’t stop. Don’t stop being yourself to try to impress a woman with how hard you’ve become, how much of a badass you are. I’ll tell you one secret the rest of humanity shies away from: accepting your true inner self is enlightenment. Teaching yourself how to be a more ideal version of yourself is self-actualization. Becoming someone you admire makes you a God.

I am a Goddess. Or, I will be once I recover from being murdered. I used to be and I will go back there. I’m maybe half there, vibrational frequency-wise, but it’s never a straight-forward trajectory. It’s a mountain without a path. You have to make your own way up. I was invited once to climb Mount Everest with a friend, and now I invite you to climb Mount Vesuvius with me instead.

You will be my friend before you are my lover. I will be your friend first, too. If you are sad or miserable or angry, I will attend to your needs to bring your emotions back into balance. Only then can we do something else, such as sate our carnal desire. Once you are back into homeostasis internally, we can indulge in our bodies or even our spiritual essence, but first and foremost is our emotional well-being. Thus, I wish to live as harmoniously as possible. Be humble, and I will do the same, and we will be able to achieve goals most other couples never even dream of because they are too busy fighting each other over the color of the bathroom rug. However, if you try to force beige upon me, I will cause WW III.

All I really care about is that there is a rug and it’s clean and it’s a brain-stimulating color. I am extremely practical in nature, not to mention a comfort-based individual. I discovered this thing called “hyggle,” which is a Danish concept of surrounding one’s self with comfort and happiness as much as possible, especially in a group. Be present rather than absent-minded. Hyggle also encompasses color theory and psychology, blending stimulating colors with neutrals to make a space warm and inviting.

You’re going to have to live with my ant colony in the kitchen, too. They’re free range… as in, they go where they want to go. I simply feed them on the side of the sink. Veggie scraps, primarily. They love asparagus, for instance. I’m not giving up George just because some asshole can’t deal with nature being on the inside. They aren’t even hurting anything. In fact, they’re helping! They’re nature’s little clean up crew. ❤

The ants invaded my last apartment. I was too sick to keep it for very long by myself. I remember I dropped something on the floor once (maybe a spoonful of sauce or something) and they came in droves to take it away. Two days later, it was like nothing happened. I thought that was quite convenient since I was falling over every time I bent over at that time. I took to stepping around my little buddies as much as possible, letting them squirrel away their bounty from my kitchen. There must have been thousands; they formed a veritable line over the span of fifteen feet. You could see it moving both directions at the same time. I think ants might’ve invented queues.

My mate and our relationship comes first in my emotional life. Until these two things are safe, sound, and secure, there is nothing else to work on. Anything that disrupts the harmony is a threat to my existence and I will utterly and summarily destroy it. It will be resolved or someone is going to die. Probably me.

If you assassinate me as every man who came before you has done, rest assured you will have to answer to The Universe(TM) itself. Your dad shall be greatly displeased with you and won’t hesitate to tell you how you goofed up. If you goof up the same way five times, you will be smote and He will enjoy doing it every time. He will side with me (unless I do something wrong) at all times. Remember that I’m not perfect, I’ve just had my training wheels off longer than you have. I had to put them back on recently, but I’m almost off them again.

I want to dance. I want to sing. I want to feel alive in your arms. I want to look deeply into your eyes, like you are the only thing that is my world (don’t forget the cats, though) and play at life like it’s one massive co-operative game with the rest of all the living creatures in existence. Because it is. And the only way to win is to be the best person you can be every moment you can muster it up. The more you practice, the easier it will become.

I have discovered one thing to be true: bad habits and patterns and thoughts can be broken. It goes something like this: for twenty years, you have paced in what you call “your present self.” Making the same kinds of decisions you’ve always made. Every time you make the same decision, it reinforces the groove you’ve created to stick into. A groove created by your pacing feet, circling the same ideas again and again. If you put a monkey wrench into your bad habit, you disrupt the pattern. You force yourself out of the groove. If you walk outside the groove enough, it becomes a different shape. The eroded sand and dirt redistributes and it becomes easier and easier to be the New You(TM). Then, one day, you’ll forget all about the Old You(TM). You won’t even think about making the same decisions you used to because they are out of the question entirely. You have learned what is better for the greater good and you are following it.

There is always room to do more for the greater good because with each level of understanding of our universe comes another level of responsibility to care about. I want to be at the level where I can speak for entire civilizations and I hope you do, too. In this case, I hope to some day make contact with non-Earthlings. Physical contact. I’ve already made contact with them on other levels. I cannot invite them here in good faith until other human beings step up to the plate and try to school their damn brains. They must stop the cycle of violence. These beings are not bending the rules of The Universe(TM) to hop skip and jump to our backwater world just to be poisoned with our hatred.

They put hatred down out of habit. They’ll destroy every miserable Earthling who cannot put forth goodwill for anyone, anywhere. Anyone who wishes to harm them will perish instantly with just a thought on their part. Our species will be decimated because that’s what we deserve. However, there is still time to turn this ship around, metaphorically speaking. We can do our best to heal our planet in every way we can conceive of just by meditating. Take a half hour to turn off all the devices, focus on your breathing through your nose or mouth, observing it, and think happy thoughts, Peter Pan. That’s the only way you can fly! [Hook]

I’m sad to say the first Deli Man I was drawn to is one of the ones who would be put down without a second thought. I guess that shiny soul means something other than what I thought it meant. [I’m colour blind, God says. His soul was black. He says yours is white.]

Hold on, I need to digest what this means. I’ve literally made several people hate themselves on accident. Instead of turning that hatred toward themselves, the real issue at hand, they blame me for all their problems. They are faultless, after all. I totally thought I was doing them a favor, being their cheerleader despite their obvious flaws. I guess that’s not the narrative going down with the Big Chief, though, so I’ll have Hell to pay for that.

It’s worth mentioning that they’re the blame for the part where they didn’t fix themselves so they could love themselves. All this time, I thought I was helping people love themselves by giving them compliments, praise, and backup. “Oh, that guy cut you off in traffic? That blows.” is one such example. I guess I should have been saying, “You should drive more carefully and give them more room to merge.” I mean, that’s what I do, but I don’t like school marming people. Is that really my job as your spouse?

Hmm. I’m confused and I need your help. What do you need, Sir Deli Man? I need to be told. Up front, before the clothes come off, before I agree to wed you and be your love eternal. I need to understand the role I will play in your life. I’ve described the one you will play in mine, though I probably could go even deeper. Maybe I ought to go deeper.

[Intermission. Crystal goes to the store to buy yummy, yummy GREENS.]

[God’s trying to tempt me, y’all. HELP!]

So in other news, I was hijacked again and only a portion of this entry is really me. Can you tell the difference, dear reader?


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