You know that episode mid-season where you realize about five minutes in it’s going to be a flashback? The point at which the writers of the show think “Eureka! We left out this super important crumble of storyline that is going to come up again and again in later episodes. Ergo, we must film a flashback!”
This is that kind of post.
Let’s back up a couple of years…
Am I the only one who makes pro/con lists? Sometimes I don’t even write them down but in weighing options, especially living, breathing ones with whom I intend to share even a brief slice of life, I tend to consciously stack up the pros and cons before marking my final selection from the choices below.
A big ticket item on my now-husband’s pro/con list in those early dating days was the fact that he was already “set up”. He didn’t need me to help pay the bills. Hell, the man bought his house as a new construction deal when he was 28 years old. When we began dating, he had two cars and a beautiful home complete with a movie theater that he built with his own skill and ingenuity in a guard-gated neighborhood and a savings account and every bit the ability to pay his bills early and without hardship all by himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hit with an overdraft fee, and a large chunk of his paycheck was directed right into his savings each month. It should be obvious which side of the list this goes on – right to the top of the PROS side. The man is responsible and driven and financially secure and handy as all get out and in whose universe is that a bad thing?
Well…mine. Allow me to explain.
In my life, I had been in two serious relationships prior to this one and in both of those relationships we started with a dusty heap of nothing and built a shiny, well appointed something out of it, together, from the ground up. We sat down, ascertained our budget, apartment shopped, signed leases, and made homes. We painted walls and hung pictures and chose furniture for decorating this life we’d fashioned, standing side by side, heads tilted, saying in unison “a little brighter, maybe a little more to the left…”
That dynamic is all I’d ever known. It felt like the natural order of things.
This man had already built that life for himself and there was no lease; in its place stood a mortgage, ink long ago dried. The newness and strangeness of this experience conjured all manner of unfelt feelings. He didn’t need me. Not really; at least not to split the bills or cover groceries this month…
When he asked me to move in with him, I felt this profound lack of belonging, that I’d be an interloper upon a life in progress. How do you pack up your existence and drag it on a hand truck into someone else’s home? Even if that someone else swears you are wanted there, needed there?
Anyway, this post as each before it is getting away from me and you all know I could just ramble on forever (and I will), but the point of this was to share with you this monumental thing that a boy did for a girl, to help her feel a little less out of place, a little more princess.
He built her a Carrie closet.
*I found these photos which were taken with an old iPhone 4, so please excuse the rough quality
He even placed the shoes up on the shelf, just like in the Sex and the City movie…
My expression when I finally saw this closet he swore he wanted to build for me (I didn’t believe him for a second).