Spoiled brat. December 28, 2007

I just kicked M out of our bedroom.

We  just spent seven very long, very traffic-filled hours in the car together on the way home from Boston after having spent almost every waking hour since last Friday together and while I love him - lots - I finally reached my breaking point.

He began to talk to me as I started to write and I totally snapped. Something along the lines of “I can’t do this with you right there over my shoulder. I think I need some alone time.”

Never, in the history of our relationship, have I told him I needed alone time. Never, in the history of our relationship, have I ever felt such a desperate need for alone time.

There’s a first for everything.

He’s in the living room right now, reading. And I feel just awful. And yet, I haven’t put down the laptop to go in there and make amends because the truth is, I need this. I need to just be in a quiet room with my thoughts. The holidays - and family members, and obligations, and driving all over the damn eastern seaboard - don’t leave much room for thoughts.

Don’t get me wrong, this past week has been quite lovely, though not perfect.

You see, sometimes, I can be incredibly self-absorbed.

Not so much in a “oh I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you were saying because I was too busy staring at my reflection in the window of the dry cleaners” sort of way. I guess it’s more like, if I’m happy, I assume everyone else is happy too. If I think something is a good idea, I tend to assume that everyone else assumes it’s a good idea too. I live in a little Clink bubble and that’s all well and good, until I stop taking others into consideration.

The holidays, they are a touchy subject for M and I. It comes down to this: I am a spoiled brat and I love my family and I can’t imagine not being around them for the holidays. Not just my immediate family - they don’t live that far and I see them often - but my large, loud, extended family. Holidays are a great excuse for all of us to get together in the same place at the same time and eat spanikopita until we feel like vomiting and drink whatever alcoholic concoction my aunts have thought up until we feel like vomiting even more.

M isn’t as close with his family. His sister doesn’t bother to come home from the midwest, where she lives with her husband and son, so it’s just M’s parents and his uncle having a quiet, all-American dinner (pork chops, applesauce, and other non-ethnic things) and then making small talk while sitting in the formal living room, sipping tea or coffee. Which is very nice, of course, but I’m used to a raucaus holiday with lots of people and lots of food and lots of yelling and lots of different conversations all going on at once.

Our families are very different and the ways in which they celebrate can be considered almost direct opposites and you know what? If I’m being honest? I like my family’s way better.

But, this is a relationship. And there should be compromise, I know that. I’m just…not ready yet. In fact, I told M that since this was our last Christmas before being married, that I felt okay with us spending it apart. He refused because, again, if I’m being honest? I think he likes my family’s way better, too.

That didn’t keep him from being a bit quiet on Christmas, however. He kept saying he was fine until I cornered him in the basement, where my aunt sent us to fetch more vodka, and nearly begged him to tell me what was wrong.

He shrugged and said “I just miss my parents. That’s all.”

And it damn near broke my heart because there I was, fully enjoying a Christmas with my family, laughing with my family, telling stories with my family and because I was having such a good time, I just assumed M was too.

He was, of course. Part of him was, but part of him was feeling lonely for his parents, up in a suburb of Boston, having their quiet Christmas without either of their children.

We went up to Boston for a few days following Christmas but obviously, when the actual holiday is over and people are back at work and everything at the stores is drastically marked down, it loses some of its magic.

So next year, we will have to compromise. I made that decision on the spot when he told me he was missing them because I love him and I don’t want him to feel any pain - especially not because of me.

There will most likely be Christmas Eve and Christmas morning with one family and then a four-t0-seven hour drive to spend Christmas afternoon and evening with the other. Since I still can’t bear the thought of missing an entire holiday with my family, that’s just what we’ll have to do. It’s not perfect, but neither are we, you know?

I mean, I certainly am not perfect. And before the guilt of kicking him out of his own bedroom eats me alive, I’m going to go curl up next to him on the living room couch and apologize and also try to articulate how I feel right now.

And then I’ll change the topic to how excited I am to be going to the Giants v. Patriots game tomorrow (where I will possibly meet Mike!)  because talking about football always puts boys in a good mood.

I hope you had lovely holidays full of magic.

And compromise.