The Ninja cracked a joke last night about me being "so high maintenance and clingy." Bwa-ha-ha! Yep, that's me, needy, gross and totally high maintenance. Oh yeah.
We got a nice chuckle out of it.
But alas, it reminded me of the zillions of conversations Mark and I have had about this, and how he doesn't think it's such an endearing trait. Mark says that my low-maintenance-ness and independence makes him feel almost emasculated in a way because he doesn't feel needed or useful. If anything, I figure this would make him like me more, not less. Christ, I'm giving you permission to sit there and take it easy... I'm not trying to prove anything. It's just a matter of fact: I've lived alone for a long time and I'm used to carrying my own boxes / backpacks / trash / laundry / etc. I don't need assistance (thank heavens) yet. I'm not purposely trying to prevent anyone from feeling helpful, but I'd feel like a clingy helpless annoying blecchy girl asking for assistance on something I can do myself. I guess my thoughts are, I accumulated my kitchen trash, so why should anyone else throw it out? It's my trash! My legs aren't broken, I can get around just fine, so, go do what you were doing and I'll be back in 2 minutes. Nothing hard about this. I'm not trying to subtly prove that you're a lazy no-good bastard, I'm trying to leave you alone so you can do whatever thing you're working on without interruption. THANK ME. You throw out your kitchen trash, and I'll throw out mine. Done.
Consider the contrary.. if I said, "Yo, could you throw out my trash for me?" wouldn't your initial reaction be, "And leave this comfy couch and this thing I'm doing? Piss off, nag!" Mine would be. (Just being honest.) :-)
So there's that.
Of course, the flipside to this coin asks the question: What would Jill do if someone offered out of nowhere to throw out her trash? The answer: Depends on my mood. I might say, "Awww, you're a doll for offering; yeah it is getting full isn't it, let me go throw it out." Or I might say, "Yeah, I've got my hands full right now, that'd be great, thanks." Or I might say, "What are you trying to say about my housekeeping skills? What? You think you could do better? I'll kill you! Why are you always putting me down? My shoes are uncomfortable! My nail just broke! Nobody understands me! I hate you!" and then I'd go lock myself in the bathroom with a box of Godivas and a Cosmo.
Yep, that's me all right.
Please God, know that I was kidding.
ANYWAY! Tonight I picked John up for dinner and he came back to my place to study. It got late and he said, "You know, I'm not even gonna make you drive me home." So I threw my clothes on and drove him home.
As I drove back down the hill, I couldn't help but hum "Every Time We Say Goodbye."
I'm such a mushball.