Pray For Sunshine, Plan For Rain
Elton and I had a very interesting talk last night after the lights went out. It had something to do with the fact that I'd read that stupid book Sugarbabe by Holly Hill and watched episodes of that Korean drama My Man's Woman. All in all, it led to a strange need to draw some lines in the sand and make it clear to the love of my life exactly where I stood with regards to the possibility of him cheating on me.
If you think about it, it does seem ludicrous that from age 24 onwards, I expect him to be completely monogamous to me and his right hand. We've been together for five years already, so that's saying something, but expecting him never ever to think about another woman that way seems like I'm setting the standards a little too high. And when standards get set that high, bad things happen, like priests raping little boys.
And so, I conceded the fact that while it is well and good if he can forever more just turn to me and only me and maybe on occasion his right hand for all his needs, he may fall off the wagon at some point in time. But if he does, there are conditions.
#1 It must be just sex. Preferably with a complete stranger and definitely NO friends. No talking, no sharing thoughts, no long emo sessions about how their respective partners aren't good enough. Just wham bam thank you ma'am and come straight home to me. And definitely no exchanging numbers, emails or adding on Facebook as friends. Just sex.
#2 Use protection. There will be no bareback riding of any kind where disease or children might result.
#3 Be discreet. Better not to tell me, better that no one knows. You don't have to rub in the fact that I'm not good enough. And if my friends find out and make my life hell, I will make your life hell.
Thing is, it may sound incredibly open-minded or liberal, but the truth is, way too many tai tais out there with their rich husbands are silently practising these three laws. Unless your husband is a sex god, it's likely that after so many years of marriage, you can't be arsed to put out anymore, so it's not so bad to get a third party contractor to take care of those needs. It's only important that that third party contractor doesn't push for anything more. Know your place, slut.
And so while I do hope that Elton will never have to practice these laws, I'm going to be a realist and put them out there. At least he'll know that if he does marry me and I should ever decide to close shop below, he's not doomed to a lifetime of monkey spanking.
I truly am a pessimist in the optimist-who-got-fucked-over sense. I still hold this very small hope deep deep down that things will turn out for the better, but I always just plan for the worst. I think that's why my bag is always so stuffed full of things. I think it's safer this way, because if things do turn out well, then I can relax, but if things go bad, I'm prepared and ready to handle them.
But there is a big difference in being realistic and preparing for the worst and over-thinking things. That difference is action. If all you do is lament what bad things might occur, then two things are clear. One, you're just whining, and two, no amount of advice is going to help you, because you're not listening.
In my unemployment, I've done my fair share of whining, but I recognize it for what it is. I just wanted the attention and the reassurance from others that it's ok, that things are going to turn out fine. And things are turning out fine. The one serious job search I've gone for resulted in a job offer (yay!), and I'll be starting work next month.
That is, if I decide to sign on the dotted line. Out of nowhere, I was asked to go for a lunch with this other company. I wonder vaguely if it'll lead to employment of some kind.
It's great that I managed to stumble onto a job. Especially in this economic climate, I am incredibly lucky, and I thank whatever kindly entity looking out for me. Even better, instead of starting straight after that little part-time gig I had last week, I now have a month to go build up my wardrobe and enjoy my slackerdom a little more.
But the thing is, I didn't just up and quit and expect to get a job straight after. I saved up enough to make sure I could survive without employment for a while. It's great that I didn't have to break my piggy bank for the last few cents before my next pay check comes in, but things got delayed, I had enough to live on and enough time to get my ass into gear.
In any case, I'm just fucking relieved I at least got a job offer.
