Just Go Left

Something Special, About Nothing Special


Thank you for your kind words yesterday. That post was hard to write, and even harder to share.  Although, it was nowhere near as hard as the Whole30 sugar detox headache I somehow survived yesterday....holy mother of pearl I thought I was dying. Anyway, while it brings me comfort to know I'm not alone in my struggle to find self-confidence, it's sad to know so many of us battle these feelings of insecurity. Let's motivate each other to be balanced and love our bodies. (Email me anytime: hijustgoleft {at} gmail {dot} com, we're in this together.) 

"I love our Sundays together," he said.

We were sitting on opposite sides of the room: him on the couch watching "The Hangover" for the eleventy billionth time and me, sitting at the dining room table; sipping wine and writing blog posts.

Our day had been nothing special:  in fact the only time we left the house was our weekly pilgrimage to Trader Joe's for groceries, where I proceeded to go $8.54 over budget and feared Kyle would leave me stranded in the parking lot as punishment. Yet, it was absolutely the perfect Sunday: spent enjoying each other's company and taking it easy.

Before I met Kyle, my dating life could be summed up by the saying "square peg, round hole". Nothing ever fit: nothing ever seemed "right". I always heard "when it's right, it's easy" from my crazy monogamous friends who advised me to "just be patient! You'll know when you know!" (literally, worst advice ever) I was convinced they were lying because every guy I ever dated made my life incredibly difficult. (or maybe I made life incredibly difficult) It was a constant guessing game of "does he like me?" "If we don't hang out approximately two times per week is he over it?" "If he only texts, never calls, does that mean he doesn't taker seriously?

Over-analyzing is a gateway drug, friends. 

I used to think easy relationships were an urban myth and I was made to not only to suffer from incredibly bad dating luck, but doomed to over-analyze every aspect of my relationships until I overdosed. Little did I know: I was just picking the wrong guys.

When I first started dating Kyle, we were living on separate coasts. We battled time differences, we suffered through cross country flights and we practiced patience when FaceTime didn't work properly. People would ask me, cautiously, as if I could over-analyze at any second "so....how's it going with Kyle? Long distance is so incredibly hard, don't you worry what he's doing when you're not there?" 

"No," I would say, "it's actually surprisingly easy." 

When Kyle and I decided to venture into cohabitation, people would ask me, cautiously, as if I was about to discover I had moved in with a monster "so....how's it going with Kyle? With all the merging of the stuff and the messy boy thing and the whole having to share a bed thing?" 

"Actually," I would say, "it's surprisingly easy."

That's our relationship: easy, like a Sunday. It started slow, with no plans, no pressure. It took its time to develop and  found joy in simplicity. It's progressed over time without rushing and every decision we've made has come from the mutual feeling that we just really love being together. Our days are rarely packed with extravagant happenings or big plans: we just enjoy our life, together. That's been the key to making our relationship work: all the pressure is off, and we simply enjoy even the littlest things about being together. And honestly? All my monogamous friends with the bad advice were right: when it's right, it's incredibly easy. 

I haven't touched the over-analyzation stuff in over a year. It's incredibly freeing to know I finally got it right.