a shout out

melaubert — Wed, 12 Nov 2008 22:04:38 -0600

Hey BlogHer folks! I noticed in my stats that a post I wrote about part of my abuse recovery was referenced here. Thank you so much. I am quite honored to have been included with your site. Plus, I wasn't aware of this site so I have you all bookmarked for future good reads! Thanks so much again :) xoxo, Mel http://melicious.typepad.com/growing_out_my_bangs/

More and More Common

womomma — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 18:45:36 -0600

This is becoming more and more common, I think. And it makes perfect sense. I have a lot of personal physical and emotional space in my marriage but we have been together for 34 years since I was 20! So, really, if I were to be out of this relationship, which I do find basically happy and fulfilling, I would first feel the way this writer felt -- just give me my own space. But eventually, of course someone would come into my life and I think I would opt also for spaces of my own. When you grow UP together it's one thing, when you come together as an older, more mature couple, why should you start out merged at the hip if it doesn't feel right?

womomma

Joined, Not Merged--Keeping a room of one’s own

susan mernit — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 17:09:07 -0600

I spent most of today at my new house, directing the movers and then unpacking box after box of items: glasses, dishes, books, clothes—even someone who tries to continually pare down, as I do now, can accumulate more than she realizes. A was around for the first part of the morning, carrying boxes out from the car, then went to the office, leaving me with the fellas.

“Does this go in the master bedroom?” one mover kept saying, and I have to admit I blushed a little as I said, “That goes in my room, end of the hall.”

Four years ago January, I was ending a 25+ year relationship, a marriage that had gone sour like an expired carton of milk. When I moved into what I called “the post-divorce apartment” near Stanford, I made a point of telling my friends—and the people I dated—I would probably never live with anyone ever again. A couple years later, I’d relented enough to make jokes—and talk seriously—about buying a place to live with my best female friend, but I didn’t do it—the whole idea of compromising with others in order to live together seemed not worth it, as any divorced former mother of a teenage boy might attest.

And so here I am, November 2008, embracing my own Red State/Blue State moment of change. After all those statements about never living with someone, after wanting to make sure my independence was something I wouldn’t (once again) mistakenly give away, A & I are moving in together. (You know it’s real when you mix your books, and your pots and pans, and actually have discussions about which artwork to hang, as opposed to hanging whatever you want.)

But that’s where the room of my own comes in. In this cozy little house, already filled with books, I not only have a (shared) office, I have my own space. My room, my way, with a door that closes tight, good lighting and lots of my favorite things. When Virginia Woolf said a woman needed “a room of her own,” I don’t think she meant that a committed couple that moves into together should each have their own space, but that’s exactly what we’ve done.

Hanging at the Web 2.0 Summit in San Francisco this week, I shared these thoughts with a twitter friend who told me she was on her second marriage, to a man much older. “Honey, of course we have our own rooms!” she said, raising her eyebrow, “After all, we’re grown-ups!”

“What do you mean?” I responded. And Mary (not her real name) explained that while she and Charles (not his real name) were deeply in love and happy after 6 years of marriage, they both still wanted their own space. “It’s not just that sometimes he snores,” she concluded, “It’s that there are some thing we each want our own way—and that’s okay.”

For me, coming out of the post-suburban lifestyle back east into the relative freedom of California, these are new ideas. When my 46-year old friend Annie married her 55 year old new boyfriend John after a three month courtship 5 years ago, they set up house together in the traditional way, just like two 20-somethings going for the master suite in the starter home. But many of the older couples I know who live together—married, or not—have living arrangements that demonstrate a very different understanding of personal space.

And of course, that personal space reflects different ideas of personal freedom. While A and I have become a very committed couple in the 18 months we’ve been together, we also value our individuality. Keeping my own room is a way to demonstrate that, as close as we are, I don’t want to merge too fully.

And yet, no question but that we’re meshed. We go to the gym together, we cook together, we walk together, we see friends together—there’s a huge chunk of my life that has nothing to do with A—and yet he’s crept into so many places in my world, and vice versa. It’s gotten so I can walk around the new ‘hood and I know which of the big Victorians he’d like best—and then we walk together, and yep, those are the ones he notices.

But maybe the difference, this time around, is that this bonding is a gift. It’s not just a gift that we found one another; it’s my time and attention that is the gift, as is his. What this means is that I don’t see time together in life’s daily routines as a requirement; I see it as something offered, not to be taken for granted.

And as much as I want to live my life with A, as I’m thrilled we’ve taken this house together, that doesn’t mean I don’t want, need, and intend to keep space for myself. I wouldn’t ask someone else to give up his or her own emotional space for me; why would I do that for them?

Or, on another note, why would I not want to have my own room—isn’t it a symbol of my own space? Isn’t the gift we bring one another at this (not quiet advanced, but getting there age) that we’re joined, not merged?

Sex & Relationship posts worth a read this week:

Growing out my bangs: Will the codependent please rise?
“Ms. Aubert has a history of doing and doing for others and accepting very little in return. While she finds this to be a strength and part of what makes her so unique and lovely, we see it otherwise. Yes, with her friends this is a very wonderful quality, but it's not always as she would like it to appear. And it's certainly not always healthy when it's not reciprocated.”

Clea’s Magic Touch: A night out on the town with the working girls
“One of my friends, who's the cutest thing and smart, hip, and incredibly sweet, said that she felt completely awkward anytime she wasn't totally in control of a situation with a guy. She just doesn't know what to do or say if she's not trying to get money out of him. The other was talking about missing the validation and outgoingness of dancing, and we all agreed that we often suppressed the flirtations, sexual sides of ourselves in social situations way more than the non-working girls that we knew. It's funny. You'd think a group of ex-strippers would be even more comfortable being sexy and charming, but it's utterly untrue.”

Sugarbaby Weekly: Obama in My Bed
"A week later he came over early in the morning and jumped into bed with me. I giggled and we made stupid conversation as he pushed my t-shirt up and sucked on my nipples.
The man spent a long time going down on me, and I congratulated myself on an excellent job of teaching him oral techniques that work.”

Curvaceous Dee: Skoda Slut, Part 2
All good automobile make-out sessions start with the kissing. And Hermes is a fantastic kisser. We've kissed enough, now, to be at the stage where we each know the rhythms and movements of the other; how his tongue likes to meander slowly around my mouth; how certain notions remind me of his oral technique; how our hands move and hold and grip and slide. So I pulled him to me, across the handbrake and that cunning storage compartment between the seat, and we kissed. Pashed. Made-out.

BlogHer - Joined, Not Merged--Keeping a room of one’s own - Comments

a shout out

More and More Common

Joined, Not Merged--Keeping a room of one’s own