From the Private Blog of Jennifer Jareau
21-Jul-2012 3:12am
"There's a difference between playing and playing games. The former is an act of joy, the latter — an act." ― Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration
Pretending isn't as easy as it used to be. Nothing ever is. One would think that after so many years together, it gets easier. Well, it's not true.
In the beginning, we send our representatives out on the first date to get to know another person's rep. If the reps are in mutual agreement, then eventually, they will let the other party meet their client. Your rep has been trained to always on its best behavior. It makes you do things that you wouldn't normally do, unless you were making a conscious effort not to be an embarrassment to your entire family line.
It starts out with small things, like not eating on dates. There is no way in the hell you want the other person to see how you really eat at home: elbows on the table, smacking on your food, face hunched over the plate. All of those habits that your mom would pop you upside the head for when you were little, that you swore you do when you became an adult and out of her house…those are the things that you don't want your date to see. It doesn't matter how hungry you are. You can eat when you get home. Now, if you're really starving, you might take a nibble or two. Just enough food to stop the angry monster in your stomach from talking louder than everyone else in the restaurant. Let's face it; that's even more embarrassing than the way you eat when no one else is around. So, you sit at the table salivating and starving, wondering why in the hell you two are out to eat, when neither one of you have touched a fourth of your food. Truly, it's a waste of money. But your date's representative thought that it was a great idea to come to this uber fancy restaurant, so they could impress you with the fact that they took 2 semesters of French in the 9th grade.
Though you hate French food, you giggle when they order because they tried their best to use an authentic French accent, but they really sound like a deaf person speaking. You also know damn well that you don't speak a lick of French, but you distinctly remember from your 10th grade Latin class that class that pullus/pulli (masculine) means chicken, and French is a Romance Language derivative of Latin. Now, in theory, if pullus means chicken, poulet has to mean the same thing. But, your date's rep thought it was fish. Even though the straight A student in you wants to correct them, your rep has forbade it. Instead, you try not to notice when they notice way their face looks when the chicken dish comes to the table.
You know that entire body let down, while you try to keep a smile on your face look? The look that over the last 4 years you've been perfecting, when you realized that pretending wasn't as easy as it used to be? Well that's the look that you're trying to pretend isn't there as soon as the waiter sits the plate down. But, after a few glasses of wine, and them saying something cute, you're smiling and giggling more and the awkwardness subsides.
Speaking of giggling, when did that start? You actually left the house with a representative who thought that giggling was a good idea? If you actually had hired this jerk face, instead of being born with it, you would have fired their ass on the spot. With each giggle that comes out of your mouth you just want to slap the shit out your mouthpiece. But, you think your date's rep is kind of cute. You like the witty banter, the wonderful exchange of new ideas, and the ball of nervous energy in the pit of your stomach – the ball of energy is louder than the rumbling of pure starvation.
After a few dates, the reps start taking more and more time off. They go to wherever they go inside your psyche and the other person starts to see more and more of you. Not enough of you to where you would think about passing gas in front of them or anything. No matter how bad your stomach hurts, you must not belch or fart in front the other person until at least two months of good, solid, exclusive dating. It's an unwritten rule of good dating etiquette. You do, however, make a deal with your rep that the "real you" will only voice benign opinions, in the beginning. You promise that you won't divulge your political, religious, or psychological views. Somehow, you know that if you do the other person would go running from the room, screaming that you're a schizophrenic, Fascist, heretic and it'll be just your luck that the President of the United States, hospitals for the criminally insane and the Pope would have pictures of you up in every Post Office, hospital and church across the country.
If you happen to disagree about something, you play the middle. You say the safest thing that you possibly can. You tell the other person that you understand their point, but just to play Devil's Advocate how about this idea? The idea that spills from your mouth is the watered down version of what you really feel, but if the next six dates go as well as the first six did, then they'll soon find that out. Even though it eats you up inside that another person that you're obviously attracted to can think about everything under the sun differently than you do, you find it refreshing that you're so different.
Refreshing is different than cute. Cute is rewarded with a giggle. Refreshing gets a smile. One of those your cheeks hurt because you're cheesing so hard smiles. While you're smiling so hard, your brain is going a hundred miles a minute filing away every one of those differences that you're so refreshed about. You pretend it doesn't bother you. Not that the person is so different than you, but because they obviously didn't sign the same contract with their representative that you signed with yours. Your contract stated that you will go from best behavior to really good behavior. Their contract said that they were going to try to shock you into to revealing the real you way before the mandatory six month dating period. They have a few beers at the football game and belch really loud. They have a bad day at work and instead of you two going out for dinner like you'd planned; they just want to go to happy hour. It's really too early in the relationship to start not doing what you said you were going to do. But, you're smart enough to know that they're really doing these things just to get a rise out of you, and to meet the real you, early. You really like them, so you pretend that it doesn't bother you.
Now you've entered the sleepover phase of the relationship. By this time, you've started speaking more of your true feelings on the state of love and trust. However, you can't yet pretend that the fact that they don't clean up before you come over anymore doesn't bother you. In turn, you stop cleaning up for them. Although you're doing it to prove a point, you know that inside you're secretly embarrassed as hell because they could be the one. What if they go back and tell everyone you know that you can't keep house? So, maybe you don't "clean" for them anymore, but you still straighten up, a courtesy that obviously never crossed their mind to extend to you. You pretend that you don't notice that they haven't change the sheets since the last time you slept over doesn't make you stare at the bed. Nor that their clean and dirty clothes are mixed together on the floor. At this stage hearing the stories about how drunk they used to get in college, and the how wasted they were the other night that retirement party they went to, is still somewhat amusing. These slight imperfections don't bother you, per se, but they are noteworthy. You just pretend that it's just the way they are and that you can live with it.
About six months into the relationship a good 75% of the pretending stops. You start telling them that their room is messy and that you really hate French food. You stop burping and start belching. If you happen to fart in front of them, so be it. It's only around this time that you start going to the bathroom at their house. Granted, you do it early in the morning, before they wake up. But overnight sleep overs have now turned into spending the weekends together, which may or may not include traveling and staying in hotel rooms together. You have to poop. It's a known fact…a part of nature. You just don't do it to where they know that you've done it. You still pretend that you have a cast iron stomach and it's something you don't do. You let them wonder when you actually go to the bathroom, or if you're still so perfect that you don't. If by chance you get sick on your wonderful romantic weekend, and you can't hold it anymore, then you time yourself in the bathroom. You go as quickly as you can, push out what is immediate then keep it moving. You turn the sink on, so they can't hear you and you light a match or use a bunch of hand soap so the bathroom won't smell. If you're really crafty, you'll do it right before you take a shower, and leave the shower running while you're on the throne. That way they think that you're just extra clean and you're going to come out smelling super good for them. Sometimes you might come out of the bathroom and find them with a drink. Granted, they are just "setting the mood" for what's to transpire later, even though you know that's the 25% of their still pretending talking.
A year into the relationship, the other person has now fully been introduced to you. The real you. The you that gets moody for no reason at all. The you that's needy and needs hugs and kisses all the time. The you that likes to cuddle all times of day for no reason. They meet the boring you, who enjoys laying in the silence, with the TV off reading a book, or writing your reports. They meet the you that no longer wants to go out to the same places that you did the first few months of the relationship. They see the you with that sometimes wears holey underwear, that just barely has a crotch and elastic on the waistband, but you refuse to throw them away because they're extra comfy. They see you when you have bed head, or when you decide to have a Viking day and not shower or brush your teeth because all you're going to be doing today is laundry and clean your house. They are introduced to all of your bad habits, too. Like tasting the spaghetti sauce and not getting another spoon before you stir it up again. They see you eat an entire bag of chips. They know that when you get nervous you twirl your hair and bite the skin around your finger nails. They've seen you cry over the stupidest things, and even have been privy to a few of your meltdowns. No matter how annoying you are, or how much you get on your own nerves the real you still hasn't managed to run them off. They've shown staying power; the will and desire to get used to the real you. It's pretty awesome. They stopped pretending a long time ago, and you already know that you love the real them.
For the most part you've stopped pretending that the things they do don't bother you, either. Sure, there are still a few things that you blow off as quirks. You might even voice how you really feel on any given topic. You might even argue every once in a while. Of course you still pretend that you're not as mad as you really feel, because you've finally found someone who didn't go running for the hills when the real you showed up at the party they were having for their best friend who obviously doesn't like you. Anyone who will stay with you after that little scene is worth trying to keep the peace with.
You start to realize that you're not really that bad. Obviously because you're significant other wants you. In fact you're pretty awesome. You're almost as awesome as they are. You've grown to love the fact that they are your polar opposite. And instead of fussing about the messy state of their room, you just go in and clean it up. You put their things where you want them to go. If they don't like it that way, they should have done it themselves. You love having a date every weekend, and someone to say goodnight to. You love getting text messages in the middle of the day; just knowing that someone is thinking about you makes the day go by so much faster. You're still amazed that you have butterflies when you think about seeing them and you still go out of your way to dress up and try to make yourself as attractive to them as possible. After a year, they still look at you like you're the only person in the room when you happen to go out to the club. They still walk holding your hand, and put their hand on the small of your back when you're in a crowd. They buy you a drink every time you go out, even though now you find yourself nursing that same drink the entire night while they don't seem to be as disinterested in drinking as you are. Nevertheless, you've finally found someone that wants to be with you and you want to be with them. Flaws and all, you're together and you're both happy.
As wonderful as this first year has been it gets harder and harder to pretend that the amount of empty liquor bottles lying around the house doesn't bother you anymore. It's hard to act like your feelings aren't hurt when they promised to take you see this movie that you've been dying to see, but their passed out because of too many shots. You can't pretend the smell of liquor on their breath doesn't make your stomach turn when they try to kiss you. It's impossible to pretend that you haven't started to wonder if they only want to have sex with you when they're drunk, because that's the only time you're attractive to them. Of course you're well aware of these things, but pretending that they don't exist and not saying about it at this stage of the relationship are two different things.
What's even harder than biting your tongue while you're at home with this perfect specimen of imperfection, is pretending that everything is just hunky fucking dory when you're around your friends and co-workers. They all know about your relationship. They've all be in it since the beginning. They are the ones that pushed and pushed for your two to stop denying your feelings to begin with. They are the ones that demanded to know just how long you had been seeing each other before you made it public. They are the ones that grilled you after you came in with a little extra spring on in your step and that gleam in your eye. They wanted to know what the sex was like, and if you broke any furniture. They're the same ones that tell you how good you two are together and for each other. They're the ones that you have to pretend that you're the perfect couple to.
Your partners, you spend more time with them than you do your true love, they know what's going on with you before you ever have a chance to talk to them about it. It's not that their all up in your business or anything, but they just know you that well. They love you and they're concerned about you. They ask questions because they care. So how can you tell them that you didn't make the big surprise party last night because once again, one half of the perfect couple was drunk and having a pity party, while the other half was trying to have a rational conversation with a drunk person, who only wanted to blame the party of the second part, for everything that had ever happened in the world? Can't really tell them that it took everything in your power not to just walk out, can you? You most certainly can't tell them that after they finally passed out, you stayed up crying, wondering if the things that they were so mad about where true. Is it really your fault? Are you really the reason that they drink all the time? Do you really not listen, and refuse to understand what it is that they're going through?
The pretending used to be easier. You used to have a bag of excuses as to why you two were a no show or why you don't have any great stories from the wonderful trips that you've talked up all week that didn't pan out. Now, you either have to decide to make up more extravagant stories as to why you didn't follow through with any plans, or you have to tell them the truth. You could also take the cowards way out, and just start to withdraw yourself from your friends. If you're not around as much, then you don't run the risk of saying too much, and then have to answer to it later. But, if you become too antisocial now, that means that you have to stay walking on drunken eggshells at home.
Before you know it, you're just as sick of pretending as your love is from last night's bender. You're tired of the arguments, the broken promises, and cleaning up the messes. You're bored to death of hiding from the world out of embarrassment, or worse, having to analyze the situation and make a decision on what to do. You can't take the internal conflict anymore because you know this can't continue but you love your lush and you just want them to get better. You try not to reflect on how you missed, or blatantly ignored, the signs when it's textbook addiction.
Somewhere in this sea of confusion, you happen to look up at 3 in the morning at the person you want to spend the rest of your life with is drunk, cooking. They're stumbling around the kitchen, burning everything in sight, and cursing out the pots and pans.
You're sick of playing games. You're sick of all the pretending. Now it's finally time to ask the question that you've been pretending wasn't dancing in front of you for all of this time: is the drunk person before you the real them and if the sober one, that you fell in love with,their representative?
A/N: This is the newest story I've been working on. I know I have a lot of other unfinished things, but writer's block has taken it's toll on me. This is what's on my mind, at the moment, and I can't figure out how to incorporate it in any of my other stories. We'll see if it pans out.