Loving You

Sometimes it's hard to believe that people can love as deeply as we do. We take our hearts and hold them out to another person, trusting that they're not going to throw it away or drop it, and that takes a lot of faith. However, women and men love differently. As a woman, I'm going to shed some light on our perspective of love*.

When we fall in love, it is literally falling. Often we can't catch ourselves, and we end up deeper in love than we thought we would be. In falling so far, we invest our whole selves, sometimes our whole souls. We become "gluttons for punishment," as the saying from Charley goes. And we really do. We'll do practically anything for the man we love, and all we can do is hope that they respond in full. Oftentimes, however, they don't. From my experience, men tend to be more practical; not always, but oftentimes they will put off the girl for something else that needs to be done. Usually it's a good reason, but when she is willing to give up anything for you, it can hurt. Sometimes she'll be angry with you, but usually she is just sad until she can see you again.

When we are in love, we are in love. As in, that's all we think about. And talk about. And often dream about. Every little thing their man does is dissected and inspected and analyzed (especially if she's not sure the feelings are mutual). Then she tells her friends about it to see what they think. She wants to know if what he does means anything. From what most men have told me, it doesn't mean something nearly as often as she thinks it does. But then she agonizes over everything: Should I say this? Should I text him? Am I being too forward? Am I being too shy? The questions never end, and so she never really stops thinking about them. Everything around us reminds us of our love. A song, a place, a word; they all remind us why we love them, and bring our butterflies back to our stomachs again.

Women cry about men more than men might think. Something simple as a forgotten date or an interrupted conversation can cause tears if she's deep enough in love (or hormonal, but that's another story). Most of the time when she cries about a man, she isn't angry with him, but loves him so much that she can't hold back the tears when she feels like her love isn't reciprocated in full. She'll cry when she feels like she's working harder than him, when she feels like she's failed him, when she worries he doesn't love her. Women cry: It's a fact, and loving a man can bring about the tears more often.

Men, be sensitive to the way women love. We love deeply, and so want to be loved deeply back. Culture has taught us that men are supposed to make the first move, but you move too slow. Usually by the time the move is made we've been hoping for it for weeks. We want little surprises to show that you remember us. It can be something as simple as a text that asks how a certain event went or a surprise visit just to say hello, or it can be something as big as taking her on a drive and kissing her in a romantic spot. Honestly, we just want you to think about us as much as we think about you, and little personalized surprises show that you do. Also, show her and tell her you love her. And don't wait. If you are 85% sure she loves you and you love her too, then tell her. 98% of the time you are 100% right. Don't make her a glutton for punishment. Make her smile as she sleeps instead of cry. Make it your goal to never make her cry. Odds are you won't succeed, but try. She'll notice and appreciate it. 

Everyone loves differently. Women know that men love in their own way, and we will try to learn their ways, but sometimes it's nice to be loved how you know how to love, because then you know it's love.

* This is from a limited perspective. Not all women will agree with this, but it's still a good insight.

Not-So-Friendly Encounters

It's an awful moment when you find this behind your shampoo in your shower. First, because you have to keep yourself from screaming. Second, because you have to kill the thing. Third, because you have to dispose of the corpse.

Screaming while you're alone locked in the bathroom automatically means one of three things: There's a fire, there's a spider, or you just saw your new hair job in the mirror. People usually tend to guess the first one, as it is the worst-case scenario. It would go something like this: After seeing the spider and screaming, your panic is interrupted by your dad pounding on the door, yelling: "What is it? Where's the fire?" And then you have to yell back over the running water that nothing's wrong and please don't break down the door... Not a pretty picture. So the first reason this scenario is terrible is because you have to face it alone.

My mother always told me that you're not allowed to kill spiders when they're outside in the garden. I believe this rule is specific on purpose so as to allow us to kill the things when they are in our regime. And the shower definitely falls under that definition. It can't be allowed to live. But that creates a problem: There is no shoe in the shower to kill it with. There's always the shampoo bottle it was hiding behind, but that's bulky and may chase it away (toward my feet!) if I miss. So, I grab a smaller soap bottle and whack it. It dies on impact. But, of course, I have to hit it at least seven more times, just to make sure. Killing the thing is such a frightening prospect, but since it needs to be done it has to be done right.

Disposing of the body is difficult when your resources are limited, but you can't just leave the dead crumpled devil laying there. Besides, that's where the soap goes. So, I used what I had: Water. I cupped my hands and started throwing handfuls on it to wash it off the edge of the tub. It made it half-way down the side and stuck. Now it was squished, mangled and soggy. This thing had to go. I took hold of the shower head and directed it's jet to above the corpse, and pulled down. The force of the water moved it a few more inches, then stopped again. I repeated the process until it began sliding continuously down the side... Toward my feet! Luckily the tub was big enough for me to maneuver around it and it made it down the drain, which is the only place for a spider's burial. I guess it's only right to say a few words... RIP, I'm glad you're dead and stuff...

Not only did this episode ruin the beginning of my shower, but it sped it up to less than half the time I was planning on. And I kept my eyes open for most of it, not enjoying the hot water but watching for more of the brutes. And then afterward I put my clothes on so fast that things went on twisted and backwards, but I was out of that bathroom like a shot. Stupid spider, ruining my shower. But I guess, technically, I got even.