Kate got me thinking today, with this morning’s post. Mostly about life experiences and expectations, and how much they can vary from one person to the next. How things that are ‘normal’ for one person can be so alien to the next.
Knowing what I’ve heard of the relationships my mom had before my dad (mostly from stories she told me), and knowing that she married my dad, it is safe to say she was drawn to the bad-boy type. Maybe she liked the drama, maybe she thought she could change them. I dunno.
Frank is, simply, NOT the bad boy type. He does not swear beyond an occasional “dammit” and he gives me dirty looks if I do. He’s quiet and introspective and just generally nice and well-intentioned. I’ve had to do a lot of training in the ways of chivalry and courtesy because that is apparently not something that thrives in his family, but my touches have stuck and he’s definitely a keeper.
Once my mom realized our relationship was serious — like going on our third year serious — she asked me if I was sure I wanted to be with him. Her reason? “Well, he just doesn’t seem all that…. well… exciting.” I responded, “You know Mom, he doesn’t do drugs, he doesn’t swear, he barely drinks, and I don’t think I ever have to worry about him cheating on me or physically hurting me or any kids we have. We get along really well and have shared interests and have fun. He’s exactly the type of person I want to spend the rest of my life with.”
At first it seemed weird to have to justify a relationship with such a nice guy to my mom. But over time, as I’ve thought about that conversation, that one question has more and more shone a revealing light on many of the choices she’d made in her life.