Defending The Friend With Benefits

I had an interesting telephone conversation with my brother, Joe, last night. He called to speak with my mom.  I can hop up and reach the phone much faster when it rings than my mother can, so I answered the call. My brother and I chatted for a few minutes and eventually he brought up the subject of my love life. He always does. I hate that. He is happily married (for real) to the love of his life and he can't help but want the same for his sister. Our conversation went something like this:

Joe: So how's it going? Any new love interests or prospects on the horizon?
Me: No. I am really not looking. I don't have the time or the head space for it. I do have a friend with benefits I see occasionally. 
Joe: Oh. My. God. Where is our mother right now? 
Me: She's on the other line.  Listening.
Joe: I can't believe you said you have a friend with benefits right in front of her. Did she fall off her chair?
Me: Not yet.
Mom:  What's a friend with benefits?
Me:  A really nice boy who lives in the city. He takes me out for dinner, to the theater, or anywhere I want and expects nothing in return.
Mom:  That's nice, dear. You deserve to be spoiled. 
Joe: Oh. My. God. Mom! You're so naive. 
Me:  I'm hanging up the phone now.


My mother really isn't that naive. I am pretty sure she knows all about friends with benefits; she just doesn't want to think about her daughter having one. My mother also knows that my life has not been easy and she's happy that I have someone who treats me well; even if I am not in a real relationship.

So, I have a friend with benefits. It works. For now. I like the guy. In fact, he's terrific and when I am with him, I feel like Cinderella. He's charming, successful, sweet and funny.  He wines and dines me and there's nothing he won't do to make me happy. He's the kind of guy who disappears for half an hour and then he leads me by the hand to a soothing bath for two. Candles. Champagne. Romantic music. Passion. The whole deal. With everything I've gone through over the past few years, this is healing for me. And I deserve it.

I have one failed marriage under my belt. After my divorce, I tried my hand at a couple of real relationships. Fully committed. Holidays, vacations and family events together. Coffee and the Sunday paper. My last relationship was sort of working (emphasis on sort of) until my dad got sick. The guy bailed because a huge chunk of my attention was suddenly focused on someone other than him. I wore myself out trying to take care of everyone until he finally said, "I didn't sign up for this!" That was over two years ago and I haven't had a relationship since. Can you blame me?

I am not anti-relationship. I would love to be in one.  I just can't seem to find the right guy. I am not particularly choosy, my standards are not so high that they are unattainable, and I am not unrealistic. I am not looking for a drop-gorgeous hunk of a man with a huge bank account and a penthouse on Park Avenue. An Atticus Finch sort of guy with strong morals, convictions, principles and devotion to home, community, and causes would be ideal. I know Mr. Finch is a fictional character from a book but he was also based on Harper Lee's father. So, I know men like this actually do exist. They just haven't come knocking on my door yet.

So many of my friends find it difficult to exist outside of a relationship. So they settle for less than the best and most of them are miserable. I think the real definition of misery is trying to exist in a relationship that is not a true union of two hearts and souls. I refuse settle for anything less than that. In the meantime, I will continue to get what I need, when I need it.

The whole Friend with Benefits thing won't work for everyone. There must be ground rules or someone will get hurt in the end. That's never a good thing. As long as you avoid the whole expectations and demands part and refrain from sharing real intimate, personal details of your life; it can work. There also must an agreement that if one happens to meet someone special; the other must bow out gracefully.

Some people are actually shocked that I would have such an arrangement. At my age? I simply explain that I am a woman and  there are times I want to enjoy the company of a man.  I want be taken to dinner and romanced every once in awhile. I also explain that this is a temporary fix until I find what I really want.

Some believe this is setting me up for failure in any future relationships. I disagree. One is completely different from the other. I love the excitement and the independence of my Friend with Benefits arrangement.  It's all about fun and  passion without the yucky life stuff.  He never asks where I am or who I am with when I am not with him. I don't have to answer to him. I can go and do whatever I want.  I don't have to listen him whine that he's tired and wants to stay home on a Friday night and wants me to stay home, too. To do what? Watch him sleep? I don't think so. On the other hand, I have this longing for quiet evenings snuggling on the couch and dozing off together while watching movies because we're just so darn comfortable. There is definitely something so appealing about that type of comfort and security.  I would love to just exist with someone; not out of obligation, but because I can't imagine wanting or needing to be anywhere else but beside him. I just haven't found that level of trust, security or comfort yet.

I am experienced enough to know there is no such thing as the perfect relationship. Two different people trying to build one life together? That's no easy task. There are ups and downs, bills, work, responsibilities and baggage. It take time to deal with all that baggage. I have no problem unpacking it - together. It's also absolutely ridiculous to expect special treatment and attention all the time. No one is going to treat me like Cinderella every day and I can't always make my man feel like a prince. There are actually days when I am more like the wicked step-mother. I would like find someone who accepts me either way. My mom tells me I just haven't found the right man yet.  She believes there is someone out there waiting for me.  A guy who will listen and understand and won't disappear when times get tough. Someone who will love my precious heart and guard it as if it were his very own. My mother- the hopeless romantic. Bless her precious heart......

In the end, I know it's not about undivided attention, fun or weekends filled with passion.  I am really not as selfish as I sound. I'm pretty easy going and much prefer to do most of the spoiling.  I am not looking for someone to be my sole source of happiness either. I am responsible for my own happiness.  All I really want is to find that one person to stick with me through the good and bad. Someone willing to peel back his mask, set aside all the phony facades, and just let me love him. And love me back. Someone who loves US so much that he will fight with me to preserve it. No matter what.  All the other details, issues, faults and failures? We'll work on those and figure it out day by day. Together. Now that's a true friend with benefits.

It's My Party!

So, I am currently bedridden. Why? Yesterday morning I tripped over a cat toy in the kitchen, fell, and twisted my foot in a direction I am pretty sure the laws of physics and nature never intended. I heard a snapping sound but the pain didn't start until a few moments later. At first I thought I was okay. I managed to drag myself and my twisted foot into the the living room and began to sob. My son came rushing in from his bedroom and found me in a heap on the floor unable to speak. I just kept pointing at my foot.

I am very upset this has happened to me.  I am cursing everything: my foot, the cat, all his toys, anyone who offers to help me, and life in general. I had a very important meeting scheduled yesterday for an awesome job opportunity. I had already started putting all my eggs in one basket concerning the offer and now there was no way in hell I was going to make it into the office with my stupid foot. How was I supposed to get into the shower, get dressed up and drive to Huntington?  I could barely stand let alone squeeze my throbbing, swollen foot into a shoe.  I had intended on wearing my favorite faux-alligator pumps. They're super classy with sensible heels, but not too sensible. Just right.  Now everything was ruined. The job opportunity- most likely gone forever. I have a feeling I am going to be out of commission for quite some time.


I suppose I could have kept the appointment anyway. They would have been impressed with my tenacity had I just sucked it up and hopped into the meeting on one foot. I have a pair of neon pink, faux-fur lined clogs and because they are so wide and roomy, I was able slip my aching foot into one of those without screaming in pain. Then I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and how utterly ridiculous I looked. The sharp, shooting pains in my foot were also causing my face to contort in the most unusual ways. I decided to call and cancel the appointment.

I was hoping that by some miracle I would wake up this morning and the pain would be gone. No such luck. It still hurts. Badly. I have my foot elevated and I am applying ice packs to the area every twenty minutes. This is keeping the swelling down to a minimum but there is still no way I can stand on it or walk.  This really sucks!!

I must confess I am the worst patient ever. I am stubborn, irritable and nasty right now. I don't like being dependent on anyone and I am trying to do everything myself. I've set up camp on the couch with the remote control and the lap top and I am already bored out of my skull. I've decided to drastically reduce my consumption of  liquids because it takes me about fifteen minutes to get the bathroom. It's hysterical really and I am thankful my son is here. I managed slip on my clogs and hop into the kitchen this morning to brew a pot of coffee. I am actually pretty good at balancing on one foot (thank you, yoga) but I couldn't figure out how to hop back to the couch, coffee in hand, without spilling it all over myself. Believe me, I tried.  After he cleaned up the big mess I made, my son served me my coffee. That was awfully nice of him but in a few hours he will be leaving for work and will be gone the entire weekend. I will be left to my own devices and he will probably return home to find me passed out on the couch in my stupid pink clogs; dehydrated and starved half to death. I was supposed to go grocery shopping yesterday but obviously that didn't happen. Oh well. I wanted to lose a couple of pounds anyway.

All my plans for this weekend- shot. I had intended to drive to Brooklyn on Friday and then spend Saturday and Sunday at my sister's cabin up in the mountains. There's no way that's gonna happen now.  I will be a couch potato, against my will.  So not my style. Thank God for Netflix. Maybe, just maybe, I can get my web cam to work correctly so I can participate in a few Google+ Hangouts.  I love on-line shopping and maxing out all my credit cards by ordering stuff I don't need sounds like fun.  It's probably not the best idea, though, being that my current condition means I am not really earning much money. Luckily, my wallet is in a different room and I can't bear the thought of hopping all the way to the other end of house to retrieve it. My credit rating is safe, for now, but I'd better figure out some ways to use this down-time productively or I will go insane.

What have I learned from this? Nothing.  I am sure I'll eventually have some brilliant epiphany to share, but right now, I am just feeling sorry for myself.  And you know what? I think that's okay.  I should be allowed have my own little pity party now and then.  I am usually very hard on myself.  I rarely give myself permission to cry, complain, whine or ask for help.  Maybe that's the lesson I am supposed to learn.  I'll let you know.

For now, this is the shoe that fits and I'm wearing it..........

A Little Cat Poop Dilemma

My darling, beloved cat got locked in my son's bedroom today. The cat loves his room and cannot resist sneaking in because of all the fun stuff in there like tools, string, nuts and bolts, little bottles and jars, and a big box of 100,000 Q-Tips. Why my child doesn't store his things away in drawers and cabinets is beyond me. The cat never gets into my stuff because I PUT IT ALL AWAY!

 I worked hard all day today, had a flat tire on the way home, and when I walked in the door all I wanted was to slip on my cozy faux-fur lined slippers and chill with a glass of wine. My feet were killing me. Instead I was greeted by a very irate 22 year old child and one cowering kitty. The cat and the boy had a bit of an episode while I was away.

Apparently, while trapped in the bedroom, nature called and the poor cat had no choice but to do his business on top of a pair of skivvies left on the floor. The moment I walked in the door tonight, my son began  screaming that the cat is forbidden to enter his room again.  If it ever does happen again, the damn cat is getting a fucking spanking. He's tired of my sweet little pet sleeping on his bed and shedding all over, knocking keys, bottles and jars off the dresser, and rearranging and losing things.  And the Q-Tips. They're everywhere. He swears the cat takes bites out his sandwiches when he isn't looking and probably drinks from his glass too. Today my son had to clean up a couple of pieces of hard, crusty cat poop.  He showed them to me. Okay, it was gross, but honestly, I couldn't stop laughing. My laughter and nonchalant attitude about all this made my son even angrier.

First of all, son, you just moved back in after being away from almost three years. I was so lonely, eventually I got the cat to replace you.  As far as the cat is concerned, he was here first and you are his guest. Your room is not your room.  It belongs to the cat. That's where he used to hang before you got here because it happens to get more sunlight than any other room in the house. Now it's cluttered with all sorts of interesting stuff. Cats are curious and he needs to know what you've got in there. Every day you walk in with a bag or a box and he can't stand the suspense. You can't close or lock your bedroom door when you leave because you never know if the cat is in there or not. In fact, before your arrival, I never closed any doors; not even the bathroom. That great big door that leads to the outside world is the only one that was ever closed.  He's been out there only once in his entire life and he hated it.  He really has no interest in venturing out there again.  So just deal with the fact that every room in the house belongs to the cat. We are both just guests here.  I have no problem with this at all.  

Secondly, food belongs in the kitchen. It should be eaten in the kitchen. Don't leave half-eaten sandwiches in your room. Don't leave a glass of water, milk, juice or any other liquid in there either because I can pretty much guarantee the cat will help himself to a few sips in your absence. I don't condone or encourage the cat to consume people food or beverages, but then again, everything in this house belongs to the cat. This includes food and drinks. He shares it all with us.

Third: skivvies belong in the laundry basket, not tossed on the floor. That huge pile of dirty laundry in the corner next to the empty laundry basket is the perfect spot for the cat to hide out in so you don't know he's there.  He knows you really don't like him and he wants to punish you for not dancing around the house with him and repeatedly kissing him on the mouth like I do. He does this by rearranging all your stuff and then letting you know he was there by rolling his body all over your clothes and blankets.  He's simply reminding you that he is the baby and he was here first. He then waits for you to fall asleep and just wants to be near a nice warm body.  Since you give off much more body heat than I do, he snuggles up beside you at night in the bed he lets you sleep in.
 

Sorry you had to clean up kitty poop, but at least the cat was thoughtful enough to deposit it right on top of your underwear and not in the bed or on the brand new carpet. It's not his fault, it's yours for the closing the door behind you when you left. And for the record, I cleaned up your mess for years and I still do. I also worked all day today cleaning up patients who are no longer able to clean themselves. So cry me a river.

And last, but not least, I know you would never hit my cat, but if an accidental cat poop is too much for you to handle, the cat and I will gladly pack your bags and then we can return to our fancy-free lives and open door policy. I can once again walk around the house in my bra and panties.  I won't have prepare meals for anyone. The cat is easy. As long as I serve him a can of cat food promptly at 5PM every evening; he's happy. I was perfectly content with soup or salad for dinner and now I have to cook things like turkey, roast chicken and pot roast. After dinner, the cat and I can resume the pleasure of snuggling together on the couch to watch Animal Planet just like we used to before you took over the entire living room and the television.

You've upset the balance of our perfect little life here............

Honestly, I love you, my son and I love having you here. I know the cat loves you, too.  He follows you around when you're here and waits in your bedroom when you're gone.  In fact, while you're at work right now, he's in your bed, shedding his cat hair all over the pillow he lets you use. But don't worry. The bedroom door is wide open should he have the sudden urge to, well..... you know.