On Pink Fog and Changes In The Seasons

I couldn’t help myself. When the email came through of ‘amazing’ photos of submarine races recently held in Canada, I had to forward them to Lainie. I had to do this because she, like me, is pretty gullible, and I didn’t want to feel like the only person in the world who would spend way too much time scrutinizing all three photos, scrolling down and believing I was going to see something other than wide, empty expanses of ocean before getting the big, “Well what did you EXPECT to see?” notation that the joke’s on me at the end of the email. She didn’t let me down. I think she might even have scrutinized for longer than I did.

“I’m such an idiot,” she emailed back. “I really expected to see something.”

Note that Lainie’s no idiot but the fact she would think she might be made me feel immensely better. I wasn’t in fact the only one feeling that way. Her email went on to say we needed to get together and ‘catch up’ soon, which is true. I haven’t seen Lainie for weeks. I haven’t seen her since she disappeared into the pink cloudy haze of sunshine and flowers that settles around you like coastal fog when you’ve met a New Man and are about two months into a new relationship, which she is. I’ve yet to meet him. Maybe that’s why the rest of her email disturbed me more than a little, raising all my inner red flags, red flags so much a part of all overly concerned (read: nosy) and caring (read: bossy) girlfriends such as myself.

“So Bill asked me to move in with him last weekend,” she wrote. “What do you think?”

What bothered me about that was, she’d asked and now I’d have to tell her. So I did. As she knew I would. Because she knows if you ask my opinion, you’re going to get it. At least three times. I wrote back and at first was vague. This was something they both had to think about. This could be a very big step to be taking so soon in such a new relationship. This seemed a little rushed, and I wondered what the urgency was.

She wrote back and explained they were together all the time, anyway. He traveled a great deal, and as she already spent so much time with his kids, this way she could spend all her time with them. It would help him with babysitting and it would help them both financially, significantly reducing not one but two rents. With that in mind, what did I think?

Well, she’d asked again so I finished out my thoughts. I was going to support her in any decision she made and I wanted the best for her and for her to be happy. There was just a lot to consider. She would also, like it or not, be going from The Girlfriend to She Who Is Here All The Time And Was Supposed To Take The Garbage Out This Time, and I advocated against making the move so fast. Sixty days is a long time in dog years but in people time, it’s rather a blip. A really, really small blip. A blip so unformed it can’t cross the street by itself, has to take a nap after lunch and is definitely not tall enough to ride even the tamest stuff at the amusement park.

I had to question what you really know about a person in sixty days, even when you’ve spent nearly every one of them together. Call me romantic and stupid (because let’s face it, when it comes to matters romantic I’m definitely not the smartest woman out there), wouldn’t you want to take your time discovering these things about someone else? Would you truly want to combine dresser drawers before the new is even faded, even a little bit, from the relationship? Call me skeptical but I think there’s something to be said for the old adage that familiarity breeds contempt, only contempt is a stronger word than I’m looking for. I’m just saying 24/7 familiarity when you’re both used to having your own space is a bit of a big load to put on a brand new pony when you expect him to carry it on a very long journey.

OK, I’ll step away from the animal analogies before some PETA person tears me up for writing such bad ones. I finally simply condensed it and asked her to really evaluate her motivations. Be very careful mixing your romances with your finances, basically. Because if finances are the primary motivator in being together, that’s some rather shaky ground. Kind of like a plywood board balanced on two sawhorses with a Great Dane chasing a cat around on it….OK, I promised. No more animal stuff.

She wants to get together one night this week so we can catch up and talk things over. I’m all for the idea. I’m all for the idea and I think I can even free up a night here in a few days. My schedule, other than making time to see Roy, is pretty wide open. Yes, I just wrote that. Seeing Roy. It must be spring time.

There I go sounding cynical again, but Casey recently told me what I needed was a man for all seasons, not just two. She had a solid point because if you think about it (and you don’t even have to think very hard), Owen was the Fall and Winter Man who disappeared in the spring and summer (I’m not sure where he goes but think it’s either a golf course, a racquetball club, a beach in southern California and generally a combination of all three) and Roy disappeared once winter hit almost as fast as the grass turned brown under the first couple of snows. He reappeared at the first signs of spring, as persistent as dandelions in the lawn and I’m not complaining. I’m just wondering if, once this season’s vegetable garden is plowed under and gone, he’ll disappear like all those zucchini squash and tomatoes.

I wonder about that, but am still willing to give us a chance. Which begs the question, if you think about it, why Lainie thinks any advice I have to give would be worth anything, as in all the time I’ve been single I’ve yet to be in any relationship like the one she’s apparently in, because the idea of giving up my home and moving in with someone else has never been anything that impelled a sense of urgency or a feeling that I needed to decide on it right away.

So I could either be skeptical, too independent, too set in my ways, overly hesitant, or gosh help me all of the above and I think it’s all of the above. Yet I’m still willing to laugh at local news stories with this German and see how many seasons we can get through this time. There’s a part of me that remains that impulsive, and romantic at heart. Which is good.

Knowing I still have that part of myself will make me feel much better when I’m letting Lainie know that brakes are put on cars for a reason, and even if you choose not to use them you should never forget they’re there. Even though I understand in a very elementary way why she’d want to be with him all the time. I think I understand what it’s like to be with someone who thinks like you do, shares your sense of humor, supports the things you’re interested in, enjoys your home décor (even all those faded antique family photos of people who are actually your real relatives)and understands your work hours. Until Roy came along, Basil was the only one who really ‘got’ all that.

Yet I still wouldn’t move in with him tomorrow and certainly didn’t consider it an option at two months into the relationship last spring. I still think we’re trying a different route, one of more friends than those overpowered by the pink fog of romance and this time, I think that’s a good thing. So whatever I tell Lainie she’ll just have to understand is coming from someone a little older, and maybe someone who still believes in the weather forecasts, just likes to let time take time and see for herself how they turn out.

Kind of like how a dog can sit for hours, just staring at the cabinet door behind which reside the Milk Bones, waiting for it to magically open….Sorry. Couldn’t resist one more bad animal analogy. If PETA calls, tell them I’ll try to be a better writer next time.