And that sometimes, the horse is actually a hairy Labrador that will slobber, shed, and drool all over everything you own and wear. And that your "happily ever after" is a very different version of the Cinderella fairy tale you thought had finally come true.
The castle is actually a house too small for both your belongings and your literal and figurative baggage -- with a rent/mortgage as high as Rapunzel's Tower. Wait. Wrong Heroine. Or princess. I digress.
Back to Cinderella. Yes, there are sweep-me-off-my-feet, may-I-have-this-dance, glass slipper moments. But there are also just ... slipper moments.
After 2 years of living together, oftentimes I feel like the OTHER Cinderella. The girl on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor, kerchief on her head, waltzing with a mop, a broom, a Swiffer, doing the samba with the Roomba. Except I don't "whistle while I work" or sing to fucking woodland creatures. I grumble expletives under my breath as I scowl and scour ferociously, all the while sticking my head in the oven, appropos enough.
Why, God, why does he leave fresh skidmarks in the toilet when he knows I've scrubbed and plunged and brushed and buffed the porcelain to a fine sparkle just moments before? Why does he shed his clothes on the floor in the corner like a lazy snake knowing full well I've washed, dried, folded and hung multiple loads of laundry?? Why does he rough-house with the dog and scratch up a storm of dander on the couch, on my side of the bed when he knows my allergy-prone sensitive-skinned ass has swept, Swiffered and Roomba'd tumbleweeds of dog hair all day every day???
*SIGH* I am the Cinderella that realizes it's not only her furniture that's collecting dust -- it's her relationship. Time passes -- and you realize your romance has rusted, a layer of dust covers everything: spontaneity, lust, passion. Instead, your crotch grows crowded with cobwebs and what used to be "Do Me, Baby" becomes a "Honey Dew/Honey To Do" List.
After living together for two years, you don't go on dates -- you go on errands. And the focus sadly tends to be on what you, in fact, do NOT do.
When the exact moment was I cannot pinpoint. Where I went from being swept off my feet to both of us snapping at each other "don't you know how long I've been on my feet all day?!"
The Glass Slipper Myth morphs into The Slipper & Bathrobe Reality. And dressing up or looking nice for each other is sweats or moreover, "Hey! I showered for you today! You better appreciate it!"'
What to do when your lover becomes your roomie? It's going to take both of you to do the housework AND the relationship work. Or else someone will end up resenting the other person.
Consider these random ramblings of relationship royalty: to expect treatment befitting of a Queen, I need to treasure/value my King as well. Too quickly and too often, the crown is tarnished. And just because I ACT like a princess, doesn't mean he'll treat me like one.
It's cliche but there's a reason why -- communication is truly key. You must have conversations about all this; the constant communication will unlock the conflicts in a relationship. Communication is too important, so important -- issues cannot be swept into a corner or under the carpet. Communication should not be a daily chore, but a household obligation.
I love him too much to continue a collection of clutter, piling up the dustbunnies of disappointment when I fail to discuss my feelings with him. I can complain all I want about "what a mess" the house is, but we've all got to assess ourselves as well, our "messes." Both the messes we make -- and quite frankly, the messes we just are.
All the housework in the world doesn't matter, if you don't do some internal spring cleaning as well. Selfwork, if you will. Heart, soul, mind, matter, spirit, substance. So, you see, a lot of "cleaning up" starts from within too -- and my boyfriend deserves a much neater (and much nicer) me.
Time to roll up my sleeves and get dirty. See! Things sound sexier already!
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