For years I have dreamed of having a purple bathroom. But when I bought my house, the bathroom had old burgundy and black tile from the 1950's so I just painted the walls white. Two years ago I remodeled the bathroom and put in neutral beige tile so I could paint the bathroom any color I wanted. But when it came time to paint, I ended up picking a creamy color instead of purple. I accented it with purple towels, but it wasn't the same.
Somehow, I always end up picking my paint colors from the top row of the paint swatch. And almost every room in my house is some shade of beige. It's not that I don't appreciate color. It just seems like too much of a commitment.
I have never been happy with that creamy color in the bathroom, so the Boy agreed to help me paint. These past few weeks I have been to Lowes buying paint samples and putting them up on the walls in my bathroom. I am still torn between going with purple or just sticking with another neutral color. As much as I want purple right now, I know that if I go with that color it will limit me in terms of which towels I can use in the long run. Unless I decide to re-paint the bathroom again.
My relationship with the Boy is like the multitude of paint samples on my bathroom wall. Somehow none of them feels quite right. And I am desperately afraid of picking the wrong one.
Now that the baby debate is over, the Boy and I have been settling into our "normal life" to see if we can work things out. The first step was to try and spend more time together. I wasn't sure exactly when these new rules would take effect. After our conversation that Friday evening, the Boy called me on Sunday to schedule some bonus face time for the week.
I have started taking exercise classes on Monday night and I take yoga on Wednesdays. The Boy is playing floor hockey on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so that doesn't leave much room for together time. He suggested coming over to see me on Monday night. I immediately resented the fact that he wanted to infringe on my work out night. If this together time was so important to him, then maybe he should choose to give up one of his floor hockey nights instead.
Ultimately, we decided that he would come over after floor hockey on Tuesday. Unlike our regular date nights, which are a welcome break from a long work week, this time it felt like the Boy was pushing himself on me. Like one of those team building exercises where they force you to get together with your co-workers and participate in organized, premeditated fun.
Those events are never fun. And neither was my date with the Boy that night. By the time he arrived it was 8:00 and I had already eaten dinner. So he brought some dinner for himself from the hot food bar at Whole Foods. Then he proceeded to sit on my couch and inhale his dinner. It might not have been so bad if we were both eating at the same time, but watching the volume that he ate within the short time frame that he consumed it just made me feel sick.
Then we decided to watch TV. The New Girl was on, which is one of my favorite shows. It has been hilarious for the past five weeks in a row, but that night's episode was lame. I secretly blamed the Boy for messing up my favorite TV night. And to top it off, he stretched out on the couch and put his feet right up against me.
I am not a fan of feet in general, and especially the Boy's. He has these weird curled up toes that look like he could use them to hang from a tree branch. And his feet are dry and scaly. I know that most men don't give much consideration to their foot hygiene, but at least the other men I've dated had the courtesy not to put their feet near me. Or they would keep their socks on.
Hoping the Boy would take a hint, I got up and pulled out the foot stool so he could rest his feet elsewhere. We survived the rest of the night and I tried to be cheery when he left for work the next day so he wouldn't feel completely rejected.
When it was time for date night that weekend, things were back to normal. I was actually looking forward to seeing him. I had an awful day at work on Friday, so he made me dinner and comforted me. Then we went to the paint store on Saturday afternoon to get more samples for my bathroom.
After a peaceful surrender in the baby debate, I find myself in another protracted conflict with the Boy. He wants to spend more time together and I don't. Or maybe I just want to spend time with him on my own terms. The bottom line is that we are less than two weeks into our third attempt at a relationship and I am already looking for the exit.
Maybe it is time to acknowledge that there is something seriously wrong with me. How did I end up with such a huge fear of commitment? And so many shades of beige in my house?
I really want to live my life in color. But I know that while I am less likely to love a beige room, I am also less likely to hate it.
And if I never make a commitment to anyone, then I will never have to resent them. Or their feet.