Today, my guest blogger is KG, a seasoned professional working in my office. She’s also the one we’d go to if anyone needs to know anything about TomKat, Bennifer, Star, or anyone on stage, screen, or television as well as our resident Gawker watcher. I think I’m in love with her dad, who, I’m told, is the male version of me—and that just screams “more therapy.”
Have you ever seen that play (or the subsequent Christopher Guest movie) about the two guys who sit and wait and wait for a man to show up, but he never arrives? That’s a pretty accurate picture of my relationship at the moment.
It’s not that my boyfriend is MIA. I’m actually waiting on something else – the drama.
Over the last six months of our dating, anguish, anxiety and despair have been eerily absent. No tears, no screaming matches and angry phone calls. Nothing. Sure, we get under the other’s skin every now and again, and my poor driving and his inability to properly clean a bathroom are clear annoyances…but still, no drama.
And so here I sit, and I wait. I do realize that this is probably not the healthiest thing to do, but I can’t help myself. Where’s the lying, the cheating, the deceit, or (in one rather memorable instance) the surprise marriage to the roommate who needed a Green Card? I’ve searched high and low and I just can’t find it, the drama.
My girlfriends say that this is what adult relationships are like, but I’m not so sure. I’ve seen plenty of adults who eat, sleep live and breathe the drama. And I should point out that I’m definitely not complaining, I’m just, well, waiting. It’s almost as if I would be relieved if some ex-girlfriend started calling in the middle of the night or he quit his job in favor of watching grass grow. Those are things I’m mildly prepared for.
In the end of the play I mentioned, the two characters famously agree to leave, but the stage fades to black and the characters never move. And that’s me – my instinct might be to flee, but I’m not going anywhere.
Published on: Jul 3, 2006
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