Power Struggle

Relationships are like trying to find the perfect water temperature in your shower. It’s like you start off with perfectly heated hot water and then it becomes too hot so you turn on the cold faucet to even out the temps. And it always takes a few tries to get it just right. Eventually the cold takes over and you wonder if you've run out of hot water completely. That's what it’s like to see your other half unmasked. The petty squabbles, the random moments of passion, the changes in positive and negative energy...you never know what each moment will bring. Suddenly the excited haze fades and the sobering light of day parades around dressed as reality. I prefer the haze, even if it’s not real. At least it feels a helluva lot better. The consistency of knowing that I’m desired and not easily dispensable. The comfort of them finding your quirks cute even when you’re totally embarrassed by them. That’s pleasure. That’s also the “romantic” phase when everything is rose colored and sweet smelling. Before the reality of reality sets in and you realize that you’re both humans with habits that the other hates.

As a newbie in the relationship realm, I find this second (Power Struggle) stage to be anything but desirable. They claim there’s a pot-o-gold on the other side of this rainbow for those few who are strong enough to make it. I question my emotional fitness in this situation. I, being quite the sensitive type, find the nagging and change in tone a bit difficult to tolerate more often than not. Even when things feel good, the threat of stepping on a verbal landmine causes a sobering cloud to hover over the otherwise good vibes. Is this what I signed up for? The irony of the situation is that despite this discomfort, the desire to stay put remains. Fight or Flight manages to escape my biological composition during those awkward moments where voices are raised and eyes are rolled. And I always regret not doing something. Not saying something. Perhaps the road less traveled is quiet and thus leads to the pot-o-gold they claim is awaiting my arrival. I guess there is only one way to find out.

For now I’ll keep one hand behind my back, fingers crossed, with the other hand firmly planted in my mates.