blogger profile

Renee CK

writer, editor, tweetable http://twitter.com/chicskirt

I'm a fun girl who's on a quest to figure it all out. I'm cynical but living the dream- I'm not sure how that happened exactly. Follow along in my blog for fun, mayhem, and merriment. There's never a dull day! (Or, go download my book!)...

READ MORE

I'm Dating Again

My role model, Elizabeth, caused me to ask my hubby for a divorce via instant message earlier this week. The blog/call for action was so great that I linked it to my facebook page. A friend of mine commented how funny it was that so many of us said we couldn’t divorce our hubbys. I felt the same way. But, I also found it compelling. I mean, the whole reason why we should be divorcing our partners in solidarity is because our same-sex couple counterparts love their partners just as much as we love ours and they can’t get the same justification.

In my usual Carrie post-married-to-Big way, I had to wonder, because they are un(legally)wed, do they continue to see their relationship as fragile and do the things you do when you’re dating in order to keep the clean laundry going to the dresser and not the suitcase?

For a long time I’ve proposed that men seem to have an allergy to gold on the third finger of the left hand. My husband used to be able to see through the dishwasher and would put the dishes inside if the dishes were dirty or would put away the clean dishes and then re-load the dishwasher if they were clean. Since he got a gold band on his hand, dirty dishes sit above an empty dishwasher (don’t even have to unload!) after I’ve made a meal. One of our first dates was on a snowy Michigan January night before I was heading back to my university. He met me in the parking lot of his parent’s shop and drove me to a fall carnival. When we got back to the parking lot, he asked me for my keys. I wasn’t sure what he was doing but I didn’t think I should stay in his car for any length of time. The reason he wanted ‘em was so that he could go start my car and brush the snow off my windows. Now, in Atlanta where the winter mornings aren’t so cruel, I can’t get him to leave the house, 15 feet, and start the car for the kids, let alone me.

Why is it that society makes us feel like we’re incomplete until we have someone in our life and when we do, we treat being in a relationship as a “done” on a life check-list? Yep, I got the man, I can stop shaving my legs, wearing cute clothes, and leaving love notes. Yep, I’ve got a wife who is perfectly capable of opening her own door. Why should I take her to dinner now? Let the diamond do the talking.

The pastor who led my mom’s church when we got married had a pat wedding sermon. It talked about the fact that he considers himself marrying and not married. He said that married means past tense, done, over with, complete. Marrying is current, active, in the process. Shouldn’t we all be marrying? I’m going to. I’m going to take my husband out on a date. I want the excitement of getting cleaned up, shaved, waxed, and coiffed. I might even become a red head again! (He loves that, but it fades sooo fast.) I want him to plan something for us to do that he wants to tell me about , but can’t because he doesn’t want to ruin the surprise. I want him to come back from the grocery store and pull a piece of chocolate cake out of the bag because he heard me telling someone I want some but don’t want to make it.

Why do we have to have a piece of paper to make our relationship any more valid? And why, when we get that paper, do we begin to slip? Even with long-term relationships, the shiny fades.

We need to stop allowing that to happen. We all deserve to be connected to our partner, not sit looking at our best day when we were in lace and had a wonderful celebration of our love while we remember the good times. If that love is still there, then we need to resurrect it and enjoy it!

So, I’m going on a date. I’m not sure when, exactly, but it’ll be soon. Anyone wanna babysit for a night while two lovers look lovingly into each other’s eyes over dinner?

Enjoy!
Renée