Move Over, Carrie: On Second Chances

I remember the day he said it. The light thumb finger pressing against my chin, both pushing me away and pulling me closer at the same time. That familiar movement used for too wide an array of scenarios -- for gently scolding children and puppies, for encouraging loved ones, for inspiring perseverance. That. 

"And that is your problem Autumn. You always believe in someone's ability to become better. You're always giving second chances, unlimited hope in their potential."

And that analysis struck me. Deep. It hit a chord because it was... true. I give infinite second chances. For as long as I can remember, I have been the champion of second chances and endless encouragement. Friend, family, boyfriend, stranger... it doesn't matter who they are or what their relation is to me, I always believe in their ability to become the absolute best version of themselves. I am the girlfriend at the door after the second missed date, worrying about their day at work. I am the stranger on the street corner, worrying whether my donation to the homeless man who just chatted me up was enough. I am the daughter at the dinner table, reminding my mother after a long day of work with kids that there is such hope there, they'll get better.
What hit me most about what he said, about this supposed flaw of endless hope in individuals, was that this is precisely what made me really, really good in my chosen professional career. This belief in individuals to rise above, to make their own happiness no matter what they may have previously done, propelled me to nonprofit work. It propels me to not give up hope, no matter how many articles or books I read on the many, many problems within the word. It's the thing that keeps me from getting overwhelmed when so many others look around and say but where do you even start.

However, the thing that makes me strong within my profession is the very thing that makes me weak in my personal relationships.

For no matter how many times a person fails me, disappoints me, hurts me, or lies to me, there is always that voice in the back of my head that says they can be better, they can be better. Every time, I am convinced that person will be better -- that they will recognize their own flaws, and be moved to change them. Not for me. But for themselves, for their futures.
And they don't.
In fact, I don't think I can find a single example  of when these second chances actually resulted in change. 
And yet the voice in my head, the breath in my soul keeps speaking.... they can be better, they can be better, they can be better. Just believe. 

This things that makes me so strong at work, it kills me at home.

It's that old adage... your greatest strength is also your greatest weakness. How often have we been trained to spin that interview question into a strength until there are really no weaknesses, just humble strengths? What is your greatest weakness? No no we say... I'm working on it, and it's really just a strength in the making. I'll be stronger, because I had to work for it.

Is there a dichotomy between your work-self and personal-self? Do you have something that makes you kill it at work, but alternately kills you at home? How many second chances do you give?

Move Over, Carrie: Lies From Your Lover

I chose an old school word, "lover," for this post. People don't take "lovers" anymore. Or maybe they do and maybe that's a conversation for another post, and maybe the discussion of the definition itself is for another post. But here's this post, written somewhere between a latte and a midterm.  It's not really any secret (is it) that I got myself into some hot water these past few (9) months. Water that got hotter the longer it went on, that type of fine increase that you don't notice because it's so gradual it barely feels like a change at all. Until suddenly you're standing in a hot tub of burning hot water that's scalding your entire body. That, my friends, is where I've been. And I'm just now sorting it out. Taking that time after you've stepped out, after the heat has finally steamed it's way out of every pore of your body where you can breathe and say the fuck was that. 
So anyways. Back to lovers. And the lies that lovers tell you. Because that's what they didn't show in SATC, when Big and Carrie are lying in their hotel beds -- sheets rumpled, cigarettes (say no, kids!), and disheveled hair. They make it seem glamorous. They make it seem sexy. They make it seem like something that whips you away in a hurricane of emotion that cannot be refuted. But they don't show you the rumpled lives and the burned emotions and the disheveled souls. Because it's not natural -- as much as SATC and Mad Men say it is -- to be engaged in this type, this lover-relationship.  Here are the lies I've worked out so far. 
That it is private and separate. No humans exist in a silo, and that is just a fact. "A private life is a happy life," but a private life is not a secret life. There is a difference. And at first you will be oh, so comforted by the idea of things that happen with the sacred spaces of four walls or four bed posts or two sheets. Enchanted, charmed. But things that are worth it, things that are healthy... do not need to be kept secret. 
That you are an angry woman, and that is wrong. You may be jealous and angry and hurt, but that is not wrong given the circumstance. We're not meant to share our partners, no matter what TLC/Mad Men/The World might show us. Don't let your lover convince you that that nasty, bitter person is you. You're reacting to circumstances. 
That it is only physical. Humans exist in tandem between the emotional and physical. You can't remove one. It's not possible. Both of you are always looking for something else. It might be companionship, shelter, human touch and warmth, emotional support, a buddy to eat with, an ear to listen... but there's always something else. Ladies, you are always, always more than just a physical commodity they lust after. There is so much damage done across the world by tearing women down to get them to believe that their entire worth is found in their body. That's a lie.  That you're in control. And I'll leave it with that. Because that is worthy of it's own, Part 2.  What lies did you hear (from lovers or others)? Is it ever possible to have a lover-type relationship  truly as glamorous as TV makes it seem?

Move Over, Carrie: On Turning Heads

Move Over, Carrie is a when-I-feel-like-it series inspired by taking the wit, 

wisdom and discussion of SATC one step farther. It's your relationships, your life... today.

I was leaving a bar the other night when I caught a man staring at me. Just staring. He was about forty years old. Nondescript. Normal, suburban male. My reaction was immediate fear. I was clearly heading for the door, keys in hand and his stare stopped me in my tracks. Was it safe to leave alone? There were a lot of people between me and the parking garage... but was that enough? I decided to keep heading out, but when I turned around to look both ways before crossing the street I saw that he had left to. I started getting anxious, really anxious. I quickened my steps, and was shocked when the man passed me on my left -- accompanied by two female friends. He slowed down as he passed and said, "That dress fits you like a glove. You look gorgeous." His two female friends smiled, and then they were off.  And my first reaction was  I forgot I could turn heads.  And that made me sad.  I felt sad for myself that I had forgotten I was capable of turning heads. That deep down, I had forgotten I was beautiful. There are so many things women think of now when they hear the word "beauty."  Beauty is fit.  Beauty is strong.  Beauty is skinny.  Beauty is natural.  Beauty is healthy.  Beauty is classic.  Beauty is timeless.  Beauty is trendy.  Beauty is neutrals.  Beauty is... you.  And that's what we forget the most. I've read so many Pinterest quotes that I quite literally had convinced myself that I couldn't be beautiful because I wasn't fit or strong enough, and I certainly wasn't working on those two things so therefor I couldn't possibly be beautiful or on my way to beautiful. Other women do this unfortunate mind warp too, but maybe with other things -- not skinny, not curvy, not something.  And I felt sad that a woman's first reaction to catching a man looking at her is to be scared. To instantly assume that another human is either going to hurt you or degrade you... that's sad.  Wasn't that really one of the most important lessons of Carrie, after all? For all her crazy outfits... wasn't it about walking into a room and having the class and composure and confidence to know that you were possible of turning heads? Not in a conceited way, but a confident way of knowing your own skin and being comfortable in it. Of appreciating yourself from the inside out, in a way that radiates across the room.  I hope I remember this. 
What distracts your from remembering the real definition of beauty? 

Move Over, Carrie: Work

Last week, there was a good ol' link up floating around called "Why We Work." I don't know about you, but I spent the better part of my Valentine's Day watching Frank Underwood and clicking every other submission on that link up. Does anybody else actually still read link ups? Or do they just use it as a convenient topic starter for the day? Moving on. Or should I say-Move Over, Autumn this is getting dull. Ha? Ha.

Here's the point. 

It seemed to me in perusing quite a few of these that there were two "camps": 

1. Genuine, deep-seeded "puppy love" (but beyond the puppy stage into mature, but still cute, grown dog stage?) of holy shit, they just make the most adorable pair and they complete all these individual quirks the other has. They truly are just the best of partners and friends.

2. "We work because we work."

Camp 2 was most fascinating. Maybe they were more honest than Camp 1. Maybe Camp 1 also has hard times they just didn't write about (I mean, everyone has hard times). If you clicked through any of the posts, you might have noticed this clear division too. And it seemed more significant than just "I don't want to write about the bad stuff, so I'm going to keep it light." It was a genuine sense of some people just blend so easily, and other people don't--but they still choose each other. 

But there were quite a few I read where they just genuinely said, on a regular basis, we just want to walk away. It's hard. It's not natural, blending two lives. It doesn't come easy. And I just found it so interesting, this clear division. This one group saying "I can't imagine a day without him." And another group saying "I can very clearly imagine a day without him, and that day might actually be better than a day with him. But we stick it out." 

What I'm really interested in today is your opinion. Normally, I share mine. But for now, I'm just not sure where it's at. 

How do you know when a relationship is too much work?

What's the difference between "everything good is worth working for,"

and "but it shouldn't be this hard"?

Would you describe your relationship more as "work"?

What You Deserve

"You deserve better."
"One day you'll get what you deserve....someone who treats you like a princess. That's what you deserve." 
But what I deserve is not what I want. And I wonder where this phrase came from--what you "deserve." This phrase has followed me around for as long as I can remember. I even remember it from middle school youth groups, learning what I deserved as a 'daughter of God.' And it's followed me since then, prominently in opportunities missed. Ended relationships usher in a "you deserve better." I've even found it in my fair share of those awkward no-thank-you-not-hiring-you phone calls, "someone with your skill will definitely find a position, something you really truly deserve because you've worked so hard."
But what about what I want? 
Because the two are not necessarily the same. Rarely, in fact have I found them to be the same. In my life, or those of others. Because we can all point to someone we say through gritted teeth, "I wish he'd get what he deserves," and yet justice/fate/karma/whatever seemingly passes them by and they never seem to get what they deserve.
I've also heard it said that "we accept the love we think we deserve." This is also, in my mind, not true. To me it rings of victim-think and all too much self-pity and lack of self-esteem. It rings so very much of self, and in the end love is really supposed to be an absence of self. I accept the love I want (which is also about the self, I realize...but at least a self that acknowledges it's selfishness, rather than hiding behind it's past or psychology). I could know straight up it's not right or real or best or the highest or the most compatible or the most realistic for longevity or any other number of things, and yet I accept it because I want it. I know better. I know he's not for me. I am under no false pretense of pitying illusion that this is something I deserve. I'm mature enough and self-aware enough to know, no this is not the best. But I pick it. The same way I pick ice cream over vegetables. 
I don't understand why people use this phrase as consolation. Because the gut reaction is always the same. But it's what I want. 
Which led me to think-- Is being mature or "grown up" when what you deserve matches what you want?  If I only wanted what I deserved, would I lived financially within my means? Because I wouldn't want that $50 shirt because I know I have not yet earned it, have not yet reached that point where I deserve it due to the financial means I've achieved through hard work. If I only wanted what I deserved, would I be happy with my current work or educational situation?  If I only wanted what I deserved, would I have realistic expectations about my capabilities?  Do I want realistic expectations about this, at the risk of sacrificing dreams? What happens when what you want matches what you deserve?  Does that place really exist? Do we want it to? What's better--what you want or what you deserve?

Move Over, Carrie: You and Me and Her

Move Over, Carrie is a witty, whenever-I-feel-like-it series of The Unreal Life where I talk about the sociology behind relationships,  and all the trials of modern relationships that SATC missed. No pictures, no GIFs--just writing.  If you're new, you can check out the first Move Over, Carrie here. 
Today's topic: you, me and her. Or: bringing your ex to the dinner table (metaphorically speaking). 
This post has been bumping around in the ol' cranium for a while, but it came pounding and begging to be let out this week and so...I obliged. While not turning this into TMZ, let me try to give you a little back story. I offered to copy some pictures for M onto my computer. He doesn't own a computer, and E's mom wanted to take the camera card to Mexico next week to show her parents. Better safe than sorry, I said. Let me at least copy them so if crazy bitch spill tequila all over your camera card or something...you still have them. He's shown me the pictures on the camera before. Essentially, I got a ten minute slideshow of baby E's entire life to date. So I wasn't thinking when I offered to copy them. I thought I'd seen them all. But I hadn't. Key words: they don't own a computer. Hence, every single photo since the time the camera got there has been on it. Every, single. Picture of their relationship.
And in true girl form, I freaked out. 
I promised him I'd copy them, keep them safe just in case she comes back sans camera card. But now there are pictures...of Her...on My computer. My first instinct was to delete them. Keep only the baby ones. But in all honesty....I'd be pissed if the situation were reversed and M deleted photos of my past relationships. I know that sounds weird. But it's my past, and I don't believe in erasing your past. What happened happened. Do I look at my ex boyfriends constantly? No. Do I want to never be able to remember those times ever again? No. It's my life, and my life is not something with deletable sections. It comes as is, good and bad and ugly and messy and sassy. What it came down to, is that I wanted to erase his past but would preciously defend my own if the situation was reversed. Which got me thinking. To the point of this Move Over, Carrie: Why are we so defensive and protective of our own past, but want our significant other to come with no past at all? Why is it that we don't ever want to acknowledge the idea that they've wanted others before us, but have no problem acknowledging that we've wanted others before them? 
My little pro-bono therapist, blogger friend and all-around wonderful woman, Brooks, said this in response: "I think it's because we want to know we're the sole one they want and when we see the past "wanteds" we realize we weren't the only wants." I deeply resonate with this. I want to not only be the most wanted, I want to be so wanted it obliterates anyone else. 
And of course, my brain kept turning. The truth is, I've had a weird fascination with Her long before these photos. I have so many questions about Her. So many, that M has had to put an official "foot down" to more questions more than once. Because it's true, they eat me up. One question leads to more questions leads to more questions. And I can't quite put my finger on why. Is it because her presence is with us every Sunday when we take his daughter to brunch? Or with us every dinner when he starts absent-mindedly mumbling about child support payments, gas and grocery bills? Either way, She is there. And sometimes I think I'm so obsessed with Her....because none of my previous Hims are there.   Let me explain. M has never, not once, asked me about a previous boyfriend. He has zero interest, and has told me as such. I am his today and his future, and that was his past and my past (trust me, it's much more romantic with a cute little accent thrown in there). Which is completely different than previous relationships I've had. Let's admit it. How many times have you had that awkward "So, why did you end things with your ex?" or "How many people have you dated?" or any other various relationship-resume questions. Basically....sometimes I wonder if I don't feel intimidated by Her simply because there's no Him. She is, figuratively, always at the dinner table. But none of my past ever is, because it's never been brought up and never will be brought up by M. While this should make me feel free and adult and at ease, I'm realizing that it just makes me feel competitive. Competitive in the sense that I want to be able to say yes, others have wanted me before too. You're not the only one. 
Maybe it's easier to do it relationship-resume style where you get it all on the table, all the Ghosts of boyfriends and girlfriends past come to dinner and they distract each other with ghostly conversation while you two forge your future (go with me here). Because the truth is, without them there's no you. Without RRR and MMM and a slew of others, there's no me. Not in the sense of the me I am today. Because for better or worse, they taught me things. So am I pissed that their effect on my life is being denied/ignored? Am I pissed that my "want" as a woman is not being validated? I don't know. All I know, is that I'm pissed.
So. I toss it to you, faithful readers. I love your MOC comments the mostest, mostest. 
Would you rather have it all on the table?  How do you treat your ghosts of girlfriends and boyfriends past? And, most importantly, why do we want partners with a clean slate but cling to the beauty of our own messy past for leading us where we are today?

Move Over, Carrie: Approval

Move Over, Carrie is a witty, whenever-I-feel-like-it series of The Unreal Life where I talk about the sociology behind relationships.  No pictures, no GIFs--just writing.  If you're new, you can check out the first Move Over, Carrie here. 
It's safe to say that M has gotten more invitations from my friends than I have. This week alone, he has been invited to a birthday party, a housewarming party and a holiday party. His schedule is gettin' a little full. And in only one of these invitations did I say, "Yes, it is actually important to me that I meet this person."

"And what if I don't want to?" he said. 

"Excuse me?"

"What if I say no? Are you going to force me?"

"Why should I have to force you? If this person is important to me, and I'm important to you, 

wouldn't you just want to go and meet them?"

"I want a relationship with you, not your friends."

Which leads us to today's topic. When it comes to meeting friends and family, what's your "approval process"? How much approval is really necessary? 
I was getting drinks with a friend who sat and grilled me about M for an hour. As I've explained before, M and I come from extremely different socioeconomic backgrounds. The friend asked me, point blank, if I would be ok introducing him with his current job title to my friends. 
And it just struck me as odd. This idea that he should have to pass anyone's approval but my own. I've heard it argued that you should introduce your boyfriend to as many friends and family as possible because they "know you better than you know yourself." And to that, I say bullshit. No one knows me as well as I know me. And if the reverse was true and I could honestly say "My Dad/Mom/Sister/Best Friend knows me better than I know me"...then maybe I'm not ready for a relationship. But no one knows my inner thoughts and desires but me. Plain and simple. And for them to think that I am incapable of vetting my potential boyfriend myself is slightly offensive. It implies that I am incapable of being both romantic and rational, in a relationship and individual. Sure, lust clouds lots of things. But when the lust falls away, you better believe I am more than capable of vetting my own potential boyfriend. 
And regardless of what your friends say...I think we all know that when push comes to shove you're going to do what you want to do. We've all been through high school. You're going to date that bad boy, kiss that other one and potentially marry a nerd who everyone secretly rolls their eyes at. So what's the point? What's the point of putting everyone through that approval process?
I've also heard it said that it's necessary for friends and family to approve because "they're the ones you'll be spending the most time with." Again, I call bullshit. From watching what I know of my sisters and other married friends...the majority of the time is spent one on one, alone, as a couple. It's not constant dinner parties and barbecues. 
So I guess in the end, I wonder why we choose to let other people make our approvals for us. Shouldn't our approval be the only one that matters? Because in the end, we're the ones held responsible. If this relationship goes terribly awry, I can't point to one of my friends and say "but you approved!" It's my actions, my responsibility. How would things change if instead of first meetings being this awkward strain of approval withholding or giving, they were celebrations? Congratulations, Autumn has really, truly found you to be someone who could mean a whole effing lot to her which must mean you're very smart, caring, responsible, loyal and loving. Because we know Autumn will never settle, and therefore we don't need to make you run the gauntlet. Welcome, have some cake. 
What role do you let your friends and family play in picking your potential husband?  Is there someone who's approval you absolutely must have? What motivates your desire for approval?

Move Over, Carrie: The List

Move Over, Carrie is a witty, whenever-I-feel-like-it series of The Unreal Life where I talk about the sociology behind relationships.  No pictures, no GIFs--just writing.  If you're new, you can check out the first Move Over, Carrie here. 
Your comments last week were all so sweet and engaging, that I wanted to do a follow up. I hope you know that's why I love this series the most of anything I write on this little blog--your comments. They're always insanely interesting and personal, so thank you. 
Last week, I was concerned with how opposite is too opposite. But in reality, there was really only one opposite that kept standing out to me. Kept picking at my brain. Education. I couldn't get over it. And when I couldn't get over it, the Catholic guilt was all-consuming. Who doesn't like someone because they're less educated than you? Who says they want to do nonprofit work, but literally can't get past someone's education status? Waves and waves and waves of guilt, people. 
I talked to him about it. Awkwardly and pointedly and slightly tipsy. And again, was shocked by his answer. His answer was everything I wanted to hear, but didn't think I would. The next day we went to see his family, and his niece begged to do puzzles and flashcards and read books with me. His nieces and nephews were smart as a whip, and he told me all the things his brother makes them do so they'll continue on this good academic path. I asked if he planned to do these same things when his own daughter was old enough, and he replied of course, without a doubt. He was already saving for her college. And that dear friends, erased any doubt from my mind. It was a sweet, sweet exhale of worry. 
Because I realized the thing is, I don't care how much education he received. I care that now, as an adult man with a child, he realizes the value of education. He can't help the choice he made when he was 12 and in a country with completely different educational standards and resources, but he can help the choices he makes now.
And now to the real Move Over, Carrie part (because it's not just an update of my love life). The whole situation reminded me of those times as a little teenage girl when your friends or your mother or Cosmo asks you "What's on your List?" The List. The "I will only date a man who..." And I think what I realized is that you never know what you won't budge on until you're actually standing there (unfortunately). You can make a few sweeping generalizations, but new things are also uncovered as you grow. And I think I was surprised by how much I wouldn't budge. Because you're also told when you make strong statements about what you want from a relationship, "just wait until you meet the right one...things you want might change." And so the unwillingness to budge on this issue of the value of education shook me. I literally wouldn't budge. And now that I've seen it and identified it, it seems so obvious. Of course I need a man who values education. How blazingly obvious. 
It makes me wonder what else I won't budge on. What other things will get added to "The List." And not the list I made up in a sleepover about a joyful Christian who makes me laugh. But The List that life and time make. The Real List. 

What's on your List, real or sleepover? Did you make one as a little girl, and how has it changed? Have you ever been surprised by finding something  you absolutely refuse to budge on in relationships?

Move Over, Carrie

Move Over, Carrie is a witty, whenever-I-feel-like-it series of The Unreal Life where I talk about the sociology behind relationships.  No pictures, no GIFs--just writing.  If you're new, you can check out the first Move Over, Carrie here. 
Today's topic: opposites. We've heard it said that opposites attract, but how opposite is too opposite?
It's no secret around this little blog that lately I've been dating someone. And I'm not really sure if we could be any more opposite. Like true, start-from-the-bottom opposite. He dropped out of school at sixth grade. I am one of 778,000 graduate students in America who have decided 16 years of schooling just isn't enough. His biggest stressor is working 14 hour days to pay for himself and his beautiful little girl. My biggest stressor is convincing myself to study for a program I willingly chose that will give me the job I ultimately want. Communication, while improving, is still a daily task. And I mean a task. It takes work and a lot of repeating and a lot of patience.  There's a lot of education on both our parts, but mostly I feel like it falls pretty heavily on me. Because we have to start from the basics. There are concepts he's simply never heard of--graduate school, conference, charity, nonprofit. And these are the concepts that define, structure, and build my life. A few weeks ago, we were sitting at dinner and he made an off-hand comment about how maybe there was someone else I'd like to be talking to. I instantly got offended and asked him why he would say that--I was here, wasn't I? I'd been going out with him for weeks, right? He just shook his head and I kept pressing for an explanation of why he continually brought up this lack of trust in my monogamous interest. He pointed at my eyes. "It's here."  And I knew what he meant (shocking). M has never questioned opening up to me for one minute. Which is part of the reason I fell for him. He tells me everything, no hesitation. It may take two hours to get through the story as we work out the spanglish, but he doesn't stop. I, on the other hand, have never talked less in a relationship. So I knew what he meant. It wasn't that I didn't want to be with him, it's that I didn't trust him to be able to comprehend my stories and what mattered to me. And that was a huge disservice to him. 
So I tried. Slowly. Just one story. Something I was stressed about. And I was pleasantly surprised. He listened attentively. And he followed up. He asked how it was going for days afterwards, and even called the next morning. "I had a dream about your problem--tell me how it is going!" So even though we are miles apart and even though we come from two completely different backgrounds--it's the follow up that gets me, every single time. M has a consistency that I've never found in someone I've dated before. So I tried again. A different story, a potential work lead that I was really excited about. This time--zero follow up, zero interest. Nonprofits were something that before a week ago, he'd never heard of it--so can I blame him for not asking questions? Do you have to share your whole life with someone, or is it okay to have certain parts that they just don't understand?
How opposite is too opposite? What opposite personalities, values or traits  have you run into while dating?

Move Over, Carrie

Move Over, Carrie is a whenever-I-feel-like-it weekend series of The Unreal Life. No pictures. No GIFS. Just straight up (hopefully) witty, sociological discussion about modern relationships. 

Let's talk about something that's been on my mind all week. Because let's face it, people with intense guilt complexes let things percolate for probably longer than they should. 

Where is the line between being demanding and having self-respect?

In my relationships, I find that what the boy calls "demanding," I usually see as "No, I just know that I'm worth it." I know that I push boys to make very outright, obvious actions of their intentions/affections. If you like me, if you want me...show me. 

And this lands me in hot water 90% of the time. Boys these days are very, very laid back (or maybe just the ones I'm attracted to?). They see my expectations for being pursued as demanding. I see it as having self-respect. I know I'm great. Do you? I respect myself enough to not continue dating someone who can't show me that he understands he's got a great person (And vice versa. I would not expect someone to keep dating me if I didn't show them that I appreciated the awesome person they are. Of course not.). 

So, ladies....

Where is the line between being demanding and having self-respect? 

In today's society, is "being pursued" out-dated and no longer practiced? 

Do you expect boys to show you they like you before you continue pursuing a relationship, or do you roll with the flow and think that will come with time?

Sound off! Your comments on Move Over, Carrie are my absolute favorites!!

I hope you enjoy this series as much as I do! Thanks for reading!

Move Over, Carrie

Today's topic: At what point do you become responsible for another human being? 
This one's been percolating for a bit now. It may go around for a bit, but stick with me...we'll get there. You hear it a lot. "I told you not to expect anything." "It's your choice." "No one made that choice for you." "I don't owe you anything." 
I've heard it said from boys you have flirtatious flings with. They throw it out like a complete catch-all that will cover them should you try to push them for more than one night, surface-level conversation...once they say it--"I told you not to expect anything"--they act like they can get off Scott-free for the rest of your time together. 
But I've also heard it from boys who have made deep and grave promises to me. One boy, in particular. We had a ring, a date, a plan. And then he left me high and dry with no plans. Naturally what followed was a myriad of tearful conversations and screaming matches. And to this day, I will always remember the coldest smack in the face I ever received. After telling him how much he had hurt me and made me feel lost and alone with his action, he very quietly and simply said in the most even of carefree tones: "Why? Who am I?"
Who are you? You're the man I built my future plans with. You're my partner in this thing called love. You're my best friend. And even then, he wouldn't take responsibility for the fact that his actions hurt me. In his mind, the fact that I was unhappy and hurt was my choice and problem to deal with, not his. You made promises, I made choices. You broke those promises and now it's....my responsibility to pick up the pieces, while you have to deal with nothing?
Another example is from my mom and dad. Growing up, it was impossible not to notice that my father's mood always affected my mom's. How often do you remember making plans with one parent, only to have the other come home in a bad mood and have to cancel them? 
That's the type of responsibility I'm talking about. The ability to look someone in the eye and say: Who am I? I'm someone whose words, opinions and even moods influence the choices you  make. And I own up to that. You didn't make those choices alone. You were affected, by me. And that's a big deal. For both you and me. So I promise to be gentle and take care knowing that what I say carries extra weight. 
Which brings me to the question....at what point do you become responsible for another person and the way your actions affect them? If you move in with your boyfriend and it doesn't work out and you move out, does he in fact have some responsibility for the emotions that follow? Or, was it really "your choice" and therefor your responsibility to deal with the outcome, whatever it may be? 
If you make your choices based on input from other people,  what responsibility do they hold for the outcome of those choices?  In a world where no one takes responsibility,  is true love the best example of a self-sacrificing, pure miracle?  Move Over, Carrie is a whenever-I-feel-like-it series providing, hopefully, witty sociological commentary on modern relationship issues. 

[Guest Post] Move Over, Carrie: On Following Him

Hello Folks!! My name is Maggie and I blog over at a little blog called Mess in the making. I am super excited to be guest posting with Miss Autumn today because, well... she is hilarious and I LOVE HER!

If you have never stopped by my little blog, I will give you a little background for this post. 

I have a wonderful boyfriend named Greg. You can read a little bit more about {the totally unromantic and totally awkward} way we met HERE.

Back in January, I made a big decision and I decided to move from Minneapolis, Minnesota to West Lafayette, Indiana to live with Greg while he was in graduate school. This move has been amazing and I have been loving Lafayette AND living with my guy. 

There is just one problem.

People say the dumbest shit. 

The other day I was talking to a new coworker and they asked me why I moved to Indiana from Minnesota. I responded and told them that my boyfriend Greg was in graduate school at Purdue. Their response... "Oh.... so, you just followed him here?"

My response... "Yes, I did. And I love it here." And I walked away. 

When I made the decision back in October to move to Indiana with Greg it was the hardest thing I have ever done. Sure, I was scared of leaving my comfortable home, but mostly I was scared of the ridicule. 

I didn't tell anyone other than my immediate family about the move for about a month.

The thing is, I like to think of myself as a very independent person. I love Greg very much, but I never wanted to be the girl who NEEDED a boy. But when I faced the idea of being hundreds of miles away from the love of my life for 3 years, I couldn't face that. And I didn't have to.... so I didn't.

Once I finally went public with my plans to move away I realized something very important. Greg wasn't asking me to do this, I was making this choice myself. I also wasn't leaving some glamourous life behind. 

One day when I was serving coffee to one of my regulars at Caribou Coffee my move came up in conversation. He said "You know, you should never leave a great apartment or a great job for a man."

I said "I live with my parents and I am serving you coffee... I'm not giving much up" 

He laughed and threw $2 in my tip jar. 

So lately I have been thinking, why is there such a stigma over "following"? 

I think in this situation we can blame a lot of things, but we can also blame our Hero... Carrie.

Carrie never gave up herself for a guy. She was the picture of an independent woman, and whenever she took a risk for a man IT FAILED.

Moved in with Aidan? Failed. 

Moved to Paris with the Russian? Failed 

This idea of not taking risks for a man is programmed into us. Independence and dream chasing are valued and if you take a different path, you are seen as weak and submissive.

I agree that no one should ever give up their dreams for another person. But why can't a person make an informed decision to stay with the person they love?

There is one very important difference between Carrie and I. Aidan and Petrovski were not the right guys {I was always a big fan. Sorry bout it.}... Greg is the right guy. He is worth the risk, and if it fails... oh well. I took a dive and it didn't work.

The time I have spent with Greg in the last 3.5 years has been amazing, and even if it all fell apart, I wouldn't regret a second of the time I spent with him, and I definitely would not regret this move.

Sure, this might not work for every person, not everyone can pick up and move their life to another state, but I could, and I don't want to feel like some spineless piece of crap just because people have made up a dumb stereotype. 

So yes. I followed my boyfriend and his dream to go to grad school. Do I regret this at all?

Not for a fucking second. 

So, what do you think? Is there a stigma over "following" your guy? Have you ever struggled with people's negative comments towards sacrifices you made in a relationship?

Move Over, Carrie

My mother's favorite phrase is "Don't go shoppin' if you're not lookin' to buy." She says this nearly every time she learns of a new boy I've gone on a date with. My mother and I are polar opposites, you could say. She got married a month after she graduated high school and had four kids by the time she was 24. While she does not completely understand why I want what I want, she does know that boys are ultimately not in the proverbial "plan" right now. So she falls back to "Don't go shoppin' if you ain't lookin'" quite a bit. She's not the only one. Throughout college, I heard from friends, peers, professors, role models that dating should be taken seriously, and you should only date someone if you legitimately see a future with them. 

Which brings me to today's Move Over, Carrie topic: Expectations. Are you better to enter a relationship and lay all your expectations out on the table from day one? If you find your expectations will not be met, is it best to leave the potential relationship? Or, should you enter with no expectations and be either pleasantly surprised or unshockingly disappointed? Do you only date if you're planning on long term, or do you approach each relationship as just another experience to be had?

Oh, and let's define expectations. I'm talking about "the list," ladies. You know, the "he must be A, B, C and D or this really isn't happening." Not the "I expect a phone call every night" type things. Habits can change, character cannot. 

Against my mother's "don't go shopping" advice, I started dating someone my last semester of college. What I thought was a rebound, turned out to be a pretty great guy. Shocking. 

My rebound-turned-not-rebound with MMM was made distinct by two things: 

1) We were brutally honest with each other. 

2) We laid our expectations out on the table first thing. 

Let's focus on number two. Right off the bat, MMM laid out his expectations. Labels, time commitment, monogamy--you name it, I knew it. I also knew, from day one, MMM's checklist for a wife (we went to a really, really small private school where this was seen as a pretty typical conversation. I realize for most of you reading this it will be a 'WTF' moment). And based on that list, I knew MMM and I would never get married. 

According to my mother, I should've walked away. If we weren't going to get married, why waste my time and energy? Well. I didn't. Shocking, I know. And it was great. 

Not having to worry about whether he was "the one" opened the relationship up to a degree of a freedom I hadn't had before. Every time we got in a fight, I didn't have to question "can I really stay with a man who believes X Y Z? Will he do that annoying tick the rest of his life? Is this a quirk, or a deal breaker?" Hours of my life were freed from over analysis. I wore sweatpants. I ate Chinese out of a box. I put on makeup if I wanted to, but if I didn't want to I didn't. I wasn't trying to win him over, because I knew that wasn't really an option. This freedom made the relationship fun. 

One night, we were sitting on his couch eating Subway and watching a movie.

"You know what's great," I said, turning to him. "I don't have to worry about any stupid relationship dramas with you, because we're never going to get married."

I think he choked a little bit. "Wait, we're never gonna get married?"

"Yeah. I mean, you already told me what you want in a wife,

and I'm clearly not those things. So now we just...don't have to worry about it."

He nodded, slowly. "I guess. But that kind of worked backwards."

Most relationships I enter into with the mind-set of "let's see where this goes, I think you could have potential for long-term commitment" crash and burn because they place unrealistic suffocation on one or the other involved parties. They lead to a whole lot of arguments and over-analyzing. My favorite relationships have been those that were entered into with a "I know I will not marry you, ever" mentality. Which has become my Catch 22. Those relationships flourish because they're given air. You don't pretend, you don't play games and you end up falling for that person the hardest of all because you've seen the real them and they've seen the real you...and stuck around anyways. At the end of the day, you're standing there simply because you genuinely like that person. You enter with "I will never, ever marry you" and leave with "I would marry you" because in between you're given the freedom to just be yourself. Is it possible to "date intentionally" and not even a little bit change your actions based on the pressures of "this could be the one"? I'm just talking about little changes you probably don't even notice, not huge things like suddenly converting religions.

Should dating be intentional, or should it be spontaneous? Do you "waste your time" window shopping, or only go when you have the intent and capability to buy? Or, do you do a combination of both realizing that love isn't something you can control either way? Or, am I just crazy? 

Move over, Carrie. There's a new single girl in town. 
*Move Over, Carrie is a whenever-I-feel-like-it series of The Unreal Life that hopes to provide witty, sociological insight on today's relationship issues. You can read the first Move Over, Carrie here.