Cohabitating With a Lover

A lovely friend, who was disgruntled and lost in her 30 year marriage, warned me of cohabitation. She advised me to set up rules early, “don’t start doing his laundry for him, he’ll never do it himself.” “Decide who does what in the kitchen, and stick to it.” Etc, etc. I listened to her advice, but I wouldn’t necessarily say that I heeded it. J

I__ and I began our cohabitating experiment (my term, not his) in August of 2010. I knew (or thought I knew) that we were both messy people. What I quickly learned in the first month was that while I am messy, in the manner of always having clothes on the floor, never putting books away and hating to make the bed; I__ is messy in more of a slob way, leaving dishes for days in the sink, even when the sink is overflowing with dishes, keeping even clean clothes on the floor, and not knowing how to clean.

Example: cleaning the kitchen for him means wiping off the visible counter space, spraying out the sink, giving the stove top a quick wipe. Sweeping or mopping the floor? Not with I__.  Whereas I use comet, scrub the stove and always sweep and usually at least consider mopping or spot checking the floor.

Example: We both love cooking. I__ is an artist and I am a scientist, this distinction isn’t always apparent in our lives, but in the kitchen it really becomes obvious. For I__ cooking is a creative process, he is in the kitchen making a huge mess, happily “creating.” For me it is more of an experiment. I am in the kitchen analyzing and wearing lab goggles to chop onions. The end results with both of us are always delicious; the state of the kitchen is less delicious when I__ has finished creating than when I have finished experimenting.  When I__ does dishes he does them until the drying rack is full. When I do dishes I collect every dish I can find and wash them all, stopping to dry as the rack becomes full.

I’ve heard people hypothesize that women are instinctively more passive aggressive than men, and after 8 months of living together I find myself starting to believe that. I find myself thinking, if I__ hasn’t done x yet, then I’m certainly not going to do it, or pointedly doing y without explaining my attitude about it. This has gotten me nowhere. Men are dense, especially my love, so cohabitation is an exercise in clear, direct communication, something we are slowly developing.

One day, the honeymoon phase definitively ended. For the first time in our year+ relationship I thought about just walking away from the whole thing.

Perhaps it was inevitable to reach the point where I say, in a very angry voice, “I love you but I HATE living with you!” The trouble with loving the one you live with is that you have to sleep next to them at night even when you can’t get them to stop snoring, no matter how many times you kick them. You have to cook dinner together, even when one of you wants salad and the other prefers steak. You have to tolerate and interact with their friends, even when you would likely never become friends with those people on your own.

Perhaps it was just as inevitable that on the day I tried to break up with I__ and run away, he called me on my bullshit. This thing about living with the one you love, you forget that they will always have the ability to surprise you with insights about yourself that you would never achieve without them.

All in all I think the experiment is turning out to be a success. I__ is learning to communicate; I am learning to express myself without the passive aggressive part. We are actually learning to argue. This is huge. We are two very headstrong people, who are often extremely stubbornly convinced that “I’m right.” Learning to argue has meant that both of us at times have to say, “You’re right.” Surprisingly I__ is much better at this statement than I.

There will always be things about the person you live with and love that bug you. The key is to make sure those are things you can live with. It is impossible to change another person to match your fairytale ideal, but it is infinitely more rewarding to learn to live with and love a real human, in all their messy, slobby glory.

Peace Out.

Pinky

"A Foot in the Door" or "Could the World Really be MY Oyster?"

An excerpt from an email sent to a very good friend.

"I am considering disregarding your well intended advice about being happy with my cubicle job. We had an open house yesterday with about 200 clients in attendance. I got to talking with the recruiting director from our corporate office about how I ended up in the Project Coordinator position. I told him that I had originally applied for a Field Tech position but ended up not being able to interview for it.

[Tangent: I’ve thought about this whole field work thing a lot. And being in the field is what made me fall in love with geology in the first place, well that and the cute menJ All joking aside though, I kind of love being in a male dominated (not for much longer) industry. The feminist in me loves doing, or attempting to do, things that women would not typically be considered for. ]

So I’m talking with this man about how despite what all of the guys have told me, I really do have a hankering for field work. I say something along the lines of “I know I can do well in an office culture, I’m charming and smart at the politics game, but I don’t want to end up stuck in the cubicle lifestyle and never get a chance to be on site and getting my hands dirty. Having an office job will be great when I’m 27-30, but I feel like now is the ideal time to have a field job.” He asked if I have a geology degree. Told me he is hiring geologists left and right and would prefer to recruit internally. Gives me his business card. Talks about how I could be making $70,000/yr. The conversation moves on, and a few minutes later he turns to me and says “I can see the wheels turning, I’m serious, give me a call, send me your resume.”

Here’s the thing man. I think I want it. I want to know if I really can hack it doing shitty, dirty, hot/cold work. I want to see if I can hack it being (likely) the only woman on site. Getting a geology degree was a big challenge, and I want another challenge. Part of what depresses me about my loans is that I feel like they can pigeonhole me into becoming obsessed with security…that’s not quite right…obsessed with playing it safe maybe, sticking with something that I like, even when there may be something I will like more out there.

A brief comment on I__: The thing about I__ and his interactions with women and me, is that they aren’t like any other man that I’ve ever known. I really believe that even if I was gone for 230 days out of the year for a year or two that it might make our relationship better. And after that time, I would be debt free and we would finally be on more equal financial footing. "

Maybe its true that when it rains it pours, or perhaps it is more true that we make our own luck. Either way, I'v always liked jumping off of cliffs...

Peace out.
Pinky

THE Job Search

When I got to college I was convinced that I hated math and science and loved philosophy and politics. Halfway through school, I felt smug looking at statistics showing entry level geologists making $75,000 right out of school. Then, luckily for B__, just in time for him to write about in his senior thesis, the economy went to hell and everyone but the bankers were shocked. Resource prices plummeted, then became inconsistent, the construction industry followed the housing market down the toilet, and professional geologists with masters degrees found it hard to find a decent, steady job. And I had $50,000+ in student loans. You know, the "good" kind of debt. (grimace)

Yikes. I still thought that I was sitting pretty. I had published my thesis abstract, as well as conducted research and written the thesis itself. I had worked for Colorado's Division of Mining, Reclamation and Safety for several summers while in high school. Surely I wouldn't look like every other resume employers received from freshly degreed children. And luckily I didn't. I got an internship, through the connection of my dad, working for an international aggregate and concrete company...in Colorado. And although I didn't ever plan on living in Colorado ever again,. I moved home. Literally, moved back into my old room and commuted 2 hours a day to a job that I never really liked. Its nice to be able to admit that now. I had an amazing boss though, and that made it worthwhile.

Again, I thought I had it made. The fear of not being able to make my student loan payments made me think that if I just made a good enough impression during my internship, that probably, I would get a job offer at the end. And while surface sand and gravel mining and production didn't make me wild, having a steady job did. My paranoia and boredom worked to fuel my search for a job that I actually liked, using my degree. I spent 30 minutes to 3 hours each day looking at postings and writing cover letters for jobs all over the country, for local governments, the government, mining companies, consulting companies, environmental agencies...About six months into this process I created form letters which I modified as needed for various positions. I created a cut and paste work history form for ease in filling out online applications. I became more disgruntled with every "amazing" position I never even got a form rejection for. My internship ended without a job offer, and without the possibility of collecting unemployment.

For the last 2-3 months of my internship I had begun applying for "shit jobs." My term for jobs which were boring and low paying. I applied to nanny, to work in a call center (managed one for 2 years in college), to hostess and waitress, to barista, with temp agencies, chains, non-profits. At best I got an interview where they told me I was overqualified, or that I didn't have enough barista experience, etc. I just kept thinking after each rejection, but I'm here, on time, nicely dressed, making eye contact telling you that I want the job and can perform it well, and I can't even get a job at Starbucks? Sheesh.

A month of earnest job searching, after my internship ended, and I landed a job working as a house cleaner for Boulder's affluent. I was relieved to have a job, even if it was hourly, at minimum wage. The real kicker, I had to tell them I was going to go back to school and just wanted to take a year off to convince them to hire me.

I am generally a happy person. But my employment situation bummed me out so much that it began to affect the way I viewed the world. "Employment Depression." To be certain of your ability to perform, and to not be given a chance to show or prove that is the strangest experience. To have paid so much money to learn and learn to love what you do, and then not be able to do it, it will mess with a person.

When I was at rock bottom, ready to leave the man I love and run away to a different state. I got a job offer. In my field. And just like that my faith in the universe began to recover. Two weeks in and I love waking up every morning to go to an office/lab where I am surrounded by fellow geologists. Where I fit right in, without even trying. Since accepting this job I have received calls about two other positions, in my field. Maybe the talking heads are right and the economy is improving.

I feel like this long self therapy session should conclude with some kind of lesson. Sorry folks I don't have one. Maybe the lesson is to not give up? Or perhaps the message is that there should never be one part of your life that is so consuming it controls your happiness completely.

I'll update this more frequently, and I promise future posts will not be so long or self involved, well, at least not as long.

Upcoming topics include:

Entering the Mid 20's: Its all good now

6 Months in Boulder

Cohabitating...w/a lover

Peace out.

Pinky