The sentence “What I did for my summer vacation” surfaced recently as I was tossing and turning in bed.
The summer has been rough waters of juggling a quartet of part-time jobs to feed the rental beast. And oh yes, I’m getting married. Along with the insanity of wedding planning, which frankly felt very much like flying off of the seat of our pants, there are the ongoing arguments and fights with the fiancée about my fixation on discussing my hopes and dreams for the future. No, our future.
The conversation, which feels like stale dinner, goes something like this.
“I love the idea of having a house together and starting a family, what do you think?”
“I can’t say or promise anything on this, we need to be together first. Why can’t we focus on that first and then down the road we’ll see what happens?” There is escalating frustration and exasperation in his voice.
Sheesh. What’s wrong with window shopping or at least entertaining a loved one’s dreams? I am waiting for an answer and a feeling that he doesn’t share. My blood boils and a fight starts. I dub the past season “treading water” and keeping the sharks at bay.
