15 Questions - A Redacted Love Letter

The following is a redacted version of a love letter I wrote to Dustin today.

As an avid browser of Facebook I often come across links to articles with really interesting titles.  Usually I regret clicking on the link because the title ends up being the best part of the essay, the rest is just campy, or useless, or worse: both campy and useless.  Today I was captured by an article that warned “DO NOT GET MARRIED Unless You Ask Your Partner These 15 Questions Or Else…” I was captivated, Or Else what? I don’t remember asking you 15 specific questions before we were married.

What if it’s: 

Or Else…You Will Be Murdered;

Or Else…You’ll Never Know If He’s Truly A Man, That Might Just Be A Banana Glued Down There;

Worse than both of those:  Or Else…You May Be Marrying Your Father!

I had to know what Or Else was leading up to- so I clicked.  Marriage really is a beautiful thing.  I used to think it was a bit pointless, just a piece of paper that allows you an extra tax cut.  However, the more I thought about it, the more I learned to appreciate what marriage could be.  Oh, this writer is good.  First marriage was totally useless, but then after contemplating life he realized wait – marriage isn’t useless after all.  I read on, what kind of epiphany did he have that made him suddenly appreciate marriage.

Marriage gets a bad rap…blah, blah, ok skimmed that part, no mention of an epiphany.  It gives us courage to give ourselves to another without reservations. Hmm, no outline of thought process yet –tell me how did you come to appreciate marriage? I MUST KNOW!! (Spoiler alert: he never shares with us what made him change his mind…sad face.)

Instead he outlines 15 questions, THE 15 questions that your future life partner to-be can honestly answer… to your liking.  Ok, first off – I don’t think this guy is actually married because there is no place for honesty in any happy marriage; second off – what man will ever answer a woman’s question to her liking? It’s obvious this guy hates marriage, and coupling, and maybe even hetero-sex as he’s obviously trying to break couples up before they even get to the “how do you envision our wedding day” argument.

Her:     I see us at the Plaza in New York. I’ll arrive in a carriage drawn by a single white horse, and enter the room just as the sun is setting so the final rays of the sun can shine on my Vera Wang ivory (cause we aren’t kidding anyone; I can’t wear white) dress, with my mile-long lace train cascading over my shoulders.  The Pope will preside over the wedding, even though we aren’t catholic, he’ll make an exception.  Then Burno Mars will sing Marry Me; and as we kiss a dozen white doves will be released into the air and everyone will be bawling because they are overwhelmed by my (I mean our) beauty.

Him:    I don’t know, I just kind of thought we’d elope.

He should have totally expected this after the proposal debacle.  All that time and energy he put into creating the totally creative/never-been-done-before (not) flash mob and after he popped the question she said: “I’m not sure, I need to ask you 15 questions first and you have to be honest ok? Like totally honest, like I’ll know if you’re not telling the truth. And if I don’t like your answers then I’ll have no choice but to say “no,” it’s written right here in this article see…”

So now that we have been married 516 weeks (thanks Proclaim calculator), I feel it’s a good time for us to sit down and consider the 15 questions that we should have posed 10 years ago.  I’m being honest here; I will honestly do my best to answer the questions honestly.  I know that’s all you ask of me “Katie, as long as you do your best, I am proud of you.”

Here we go, the 15 never before asked questions:

Why do you love me?

Ok, well 10 years ago I loved you for different reasons than I do now. We’ve matured since then, both individually and as a couple.  In 2004 I loved you because you were a man of God, dedicated to following His word and living your life as devoutly as possible.  You were pure and naïve, and it was so easy to take advantage of that.

Now it’s honestly hard for me to put into words why I love you. I’m kind of frustrated that you’re even asking me why; like I need to prove there is a reason behind this epic love I have for you.  There are things I love about you, and the totality of those things may equate to a larger why but I’m honestly not sure. 

Things I love about you:

-          You get up every Sunday morning and make us breakfast;

-          You care so much about people you never want them to be homeless, we’ve had so many houseguests over the years that I’ve lost count.

-          You are a contributing member of Team Somner.  You take on an equal share of parenting, and a more-than-equal share of cleaning and cooking.  I never feel like I’m alone in our relationship, in our marriage, or as a parent.  We are almost always (Russell’s hair debacle not withstanding) on the same page.

-          You ground me.  When I want to do something silly, like move to Texas and go to school, you are the word of reason.  And you let me ground you.  When you want to purchase all the Legos in existence you listen to my reasons not to.

In other words (and I am sorry if this is so lame), I love you because you complete me.  Oh God, I’m tearing up…I am a half person without you.  It’s like you are one of my limbs and without you I’d have to get a peg leg, and people would mistake me for a Pirate and I’d spend a great deal of time in jail due to that misconception and then eventually start to believe everyone and buy a ship and move to Somalia, where I’d totally become the President of Pirates. 

So to sum up, I love you because you keep me from becoming a successful Pirate.

Why do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?

The obvious answer: I’m sticking around to inherit candlewick and iron wood….

In addition, at this point in my life it would take a long time to pack-up and leave.  Those movies when someone in an 18-year marriage is able to pack-up their stuff in just a few minutes, only filling a couple of pieces of luggage, that wouldn’t be me.  If I was leaving you it would be for a VERY good reason (who is Mim and why is she sexting you) and I’m taking everything with me that’s not nailed down.  Also, we know an alarming number of people who have lost a great deal of money from divorcing, I don’t think either of us want that.  So, those are the three most obvious reasons.

To sum up: I will stay with you forever because if I didn’t I’d become a successful Pirate with a lot of luggage, and I really need space on my ship for gold.

Will you do your best to keep romance alive?

This is kind of an ambiguous question as I’m not 100% sure what is meant by romance.  What if one day we rescue a dog named Romance and that dog ends up becoming a zombie and tries to eat us in our sleep? I can guarantee you that in that scenario I would NOT try my best to keep Romance alive, and I hope you wouldn’t ask me to.

Will you grow with me, and not away from me?

Probably.  (As a side note, next time you might want to ask open-ended questions.)

Will you stick through the rough times?

I would rather consider whether I’ll be sticky through the rough times.  If I’m sticky then you could just grab on to me and we’d coast through the rough times together.  Maybe I’m sticky because I just took a bath in gummy bears, or I ate a lot of licorice.  Then not only will I feel sticky, but I’ll smell sweet and I bet I’ll taste pretty good too.

But obviously the answer is “yes.” I’ve already stuck around through rough times, we’ve handled them well together.  Not being able to have our own biological children; adopting a wonderful but challenging child; dealing with parents who undermine and or question our reasonable parenting decisions; the porn addiction (mine, not yours); the chocolate addiction (yours, not mine); 9/11. 

Rough patches are a part of life, and as a couple we get to endure them together and support each other through them.  Not only will I stick around during the rough patches, but I will take them on as my own, embrace them wholeheartedly, and work with you to problem solve solutions (queue A-Team theme song).  You will never feel alone during rough patches as I will be right behind you, awkwardly close behind you, so close that I can sniff your hair….mmmm smells like Dove.

Are you willing to lose some battles in order to keep the peace?

Do you think Luke would have found The Force if Yoda hadn’t pushed him so hard? Every man needs a challenge in order to succeed.  When (if) you win a battle you’ll know it was because you were the better fighter and not because I let you win.  It will be more meaningful that way and I don’t want to take that away from you.  I love you too much to let you win a battle – so, no.

Can you promise to put us ahead of everything else?

This is the one question that I really had to think about.  I’m not sure it’s healthy to agree to put you ahead of everything else.  Shouldn’t I be passionate about things outside our marriage? I can promise that if you ever feel ignored or neglected, I will listen to and acknowledge your feelings, and together we can find a solution that works for both our needs.

(Because I answered this question last, after answering # 14 and 15 below, I’ve lost all ability to be funny.  Stupid 14 and 15!)

Will you be a great parent?

Probably not, but I will try my best to be an adequate parent. 

Will you be sure to remind me how much you love me regularly?

Monday:          I love you.

Tuesday:          I love you.

Wednesday:     I love you.

Thursday:        I love you.

Friday:             I love you.

Saturday:         I love you.

Sunday:           I love you.

If you ever need a reminder just come to this page, scan down to the day of the week and check the status for that day.

Can you promise to do all you can to keep that spark alive?

This is kind of an ambiguous question as I’m not 100% sure what is meant by spark.  What if one day we rescue a dog named Spark and that dog ends up becoming a zombie and tries to eat us in our sleep? I can guarantee you that in that scenario I would NOT try my best to keep Spark alive, and I hope you wouldn’t ask me to.

(Yeah that’s right, I’m phoning this question in because it’s just a different way of asking will you do the best to keep the Romance alive.  I feel like you are attempting to back me into a corner by asking the same question twice. Or are you being passive-aggressive and hinting at something.  As you can see from my answer above I acknowledged this is something I need to work on.  So maybe just back off a little bit.)

Will you support me if I can’t support myself?

As long as I’m not doing something else I would be happy to hold a ladder for you while you do manly things like clean out the gutters, or scrape moss off the roof. 

Will you promise to continue to pursue your personal goals and dreams?

As long as you continue to be as supportive as you have been these past 14 years, then the answer is “yes.”  Thank you for your support, for believing in me, for thinking I’m smart, for treating me like a partner, for not asking me to be submissive.  You, dear sir, are a true feminist.

Will you allow yourself to let go?

Are you going to catch me?

If I’m the first to go, will you be there with me until the end?

Yes, because I will be the one burying you alive.

Actually, a more likely story is that I’ll be that creepy woman who keeps the body of her dead husband in a chair in the bedroom.  I’ll lovingly bathe you with sponges every day, and dress you in your favorite clothes.  I’ll read investment books to you, and we’ll watch Gotham together at night before bed.

Can you promise me that if my time is cut short, you’ll continue to live on for the both of us?

It will take me a great deal of time to get over the loss of you.  I will most likely fall into a deep depression and have trouble seeing any light at the end of the dark, dark tunnel I am trapped in.  I may eventually be able to live life again, but I can’t promise that I will.

And oh God – what a horrible last few questions to end on. I feel like I need to lighten the mood with a joke.  A wife asked her husband, “Honey, will you still love me when I am old and overweight?” The man replied, “Yes, I do.”

Thanks for still loving me even though I’m old and overweight.  When (if) you get there, I’ll still love you too!

Like Whitney Houston sang, I will always love you, oooh oooh I, will always love you.  Bitter sweet memories, that is all I’m taking with me eeee, so goodbye, please don’t cry, I’ll think of you every step of the way ayayay. And IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII will always love you…. I am surprised that I know so much of that song. Wow.

The 15 questions above are pointless.  I married you already knowing that stuff without having to directly ask it, and your actions and words remind me of my wonderful choice to love you, every day.  The real Or Else for us is: Or Else…You Might Live Happily Ever After.

Constipated: late night in a public restroom

Dear Kiki,
The title pretty much sums up my entire post.  It's nine thirty on a Thursday night (ladies night for the young'uns)and here I shit - er rather sit trying to shit while listening to the buzz of overhead florescent lights and the occasional automatic spray of air freshener.  Ah, this is the life. 

At least I can reach my ass and vagina. ..The count down to operation spray bottle has commenced.   7 months and counting. 

Where there is rain, there is often time Lightening!

Dear Popo,

Growing up I had a bike.  I was so proud of that bike; it was mostly white but with some blue accents, and it was a boy’s bike.  Only a boy’s bike would do for me because I was too fast and too strong for a girl’s bike.  I named my bike Lightening; he was more than just a bike, he was a living, breathing machine and together we were faster than lightening.  I would take Lightening out when I stayed at Ma’s place.  I’d see how fast I could ride around her block, I’d hear the wind echoing through my ears.  Lightening and I were invincible.

Today while biking to work in the rain, I had a moment of childhood jubilation that reminded me of my time with Lightening.  There was nothing better than sitting on that bike, legs pumping hard, racing down the empty street, experiencing a feeling of freedom I haven’t had since reaching adulthood.  Today I couldn’t help but smile and dream about putting my arms up in the air, let the wind rushing past my ears envelope me and return me to that place of youthful freedom. 

Suddenly someone yelling “HEY, YOUR PUSSY’S WET” broke the silence and brought me back to reality.  There, on the side of the road pointing and laughing was a homeless man, mocking the fact that rain had soaked through my clothes, and my tires had left a track of mud splattered up my back reaching from my butt to my helmet.  Thanks homeless man – your commentary is unwanted and yes, my female genitalia may indeed be wet from the rain, but where there is rain there is often times Lightening!

Love,

Kiki

Let Me Give You A Little Advice....

Dear Abby:

I need help; I’m addicted to reading your column.  Every weekday morning, after I get to work, I grab a cup of coffee with some friends and then sit down to read your column. I feel like I can’t start my day without doing so.  I look forward to Monday mornings because I generally have at least two columns to read.  I find I read your column to see if anyone else has problems I can relate to.  I find I get a little depressed when nothing relates to me- which, honestly is quite often as I don’t really have unresolved issues in my life.  Because I can’t relate I find that when I have down time I start imagining problematic situations and then dictate a letter to you asking for advice.  I also love to give advice, so I read your column to see whether your advice meshes with mine – we’re probably compatible 50% of the time.  Finally, I hate it when you regurgitate your reader’s responses to advice you previously answered.  It’s boring and adds no value to your column; it makes you appear lazy. – AVID READER IN OREGON

Dear Avid Reader:

You sound awesome.  Lately I have been considering retiring and have been spending a great deal of time with my publisher trying to locate a person who could fill my shoes.  I have, thus far, been unsuccessful.  However, you seem to have your life in order, love to give advice and have ideas on how you would improve my column.  I think you may be a great candidate to take over for me when I retire.  Please contact my publisher as soon as possible to discuss your options.  It may be beneficial for you to provide examples of advice you have given over the years.

Dear Abby:

I am very grateful you have considered me as a candidate to replace you.  I do believe I would be the best candidate as the advice I have given over the years (when heeded) has been 100% accurate.  In fact, I am so committed to assisting my friends and family that I often provide assistance even when it’s not requested.  I know my advice is invaluable and in the long run people really appreciate it when I interfere with their lives.  I am looking forward to continuing to perfect my skills and sharing them with a broader audience. – LIVING THE DREAM IN OREGON

Dear Living the Dream:

I’m afraid sarcasm may be lost on you.

All About Me

Dear Popo:

On the phone earlier you said you think Dustin and I are nice people who try to help others, so you can’t understand why we lose friends.  I was thinking about this (in terms of myself only not Dustin- Dustin is perfect he loses friends primarily because he’s associated with me).  I am wondering if I lose friends because I fail to share my faults with others.  I’m not trying to come across as Ms. Perfect- I am far from it, but I know I try to keep my major, more serious faults hidden.  I am concluding that when other people are struggling through a rough spot in life, they have trouble remaining associated with me because they get the impression I don’t have similar struggles.  Maybe if I opened up about my demons I would be liked better (or at least for a longer period of time).

So here I will share some of my “favorite” faults with you- as you are my sister you may be well aware of some of these:

I wake up on the wrong side of the bed about 75% of the time.  You might be the nicest most accommodating and wonderful person in the entire world – but when I wake up on the wrong side of the bed you are a FUCKING ASSHOLE WHO WILL NEVER FIND LOVE!!  Ok, I’ve never actually said that to anyone – but I have been rude and terse to Russell only because I woke-up in a nasty mood and not because he did anything to deserve it. 

I’m angry when I’m angry and happy when I’m not angry.  I say and do things when I’m mad that can be hurtful and that you may think requires an apology.  But when I’m angry I don’t care about apologizing to you YOU STUPID WHORE! And when I’m happy I kind of feel like you should just get over what I said earlier because I’m not mad anymore.  There isn’t any reason for me to apologize because I meant what I said when I was angry, it was totally true – it’s not true now, but it was true then. So an apology is not coming from me, I didn’t do anything wrong…Maybe you should apologize for taking what I say so personally.

When I get bored in work meetings I start picturing the “packages” of the men in the room.  Then I start freaking out that someone in the room can read minds and I quickly scan all of the people’s faces to see if anyone won’t make eye-contact with me, or is blushing.  I try to stop thinking about “packages” but that only makes the thoughts come more rapid fire: I wonder if he has trouble getting it up…I bet he’s watched gay porn…his wife is pretty young, I wonder if he’d ever be in to me.  Yesterday I was in this horrible meeting and was getting bored and I actually heard a conversation in my head:

Hey, let’s do that thing she hates and start thinking about “packages.”

Oh yeah she totally hates doing that! Have you seen the look she gets on her face when she tries to stop thinking about them? I bet people think she’s struggling to hold-in a fart!

I am super lazy – I mean SUPER DUPER WITH EXTRA CHOCOLATE ON TOP lazy at home.  Dustin generally makes food, cleans the house, straightens up the garden and does the laundry.  I can be seen replacing the soap in the shower IF it’s my turn to shower and I notice a new soap is needed before I get in.  If not, then I call to Dustin who does it for me.  Even though I am fully aware that Dustin’s contributions at home outweigh mine by about 1000 percent, I still get frustrated if I choose to do a chore and it takes longer than 10 minutes, or requires what I consider going “above and beyond the call of duty.” For example, when I choose to wash the dishes the dishwasher should already be empty and the dishes scrubbed of food.  If I have to empty the dishwasher before loading it, or scrub crusted food off a dish, I will complain about it for a week and probably not do the dishes for another month.

So now you know the truth.  I am an angry-for-no-good-reason, criticizing, penis crazed, non-contributing person who just wants to be loved.

Smart vs Pretty

This whole feminist thing has had me reevaluating some life events.  I remember a moment in 7^th grade when I was working on a group project in my Social Studies class.  A boy in my group named Adam was the cutest boy in my class and I was smitten with him.  Every girl I knew wanted to be his girlfriend, which in 7^th grade meant we all wanted to hold hands with him at recess.  My first, and really only interaction with Adam was him asking me to take responsibility for researching the answer to the most difficult question posed because “you’re the smartest girl I know.”

I remember stammering some sort of response as to why I wasn't the smartest girl he knew and that it was surprising how many people had that wrong impression of me.  “I’m really not smart; in fact I’m pretty sure I’d be in Special Ed if my mom wasn't friends with the principal.”

I should have been flattered by what I am now sure was meant as a compliment, but instead I was mortified.  If Adam’s primary descriptive word for me was ‘smart’ then I wasn't the prettiest girl he knew.  Smart girls don’t end up with the guy, and the guy is the biggest prize.

Adam later moved to a different school and I became interested in a boy named Ed.  It was around this time I was diagnosed with epilepsy and began having petite-mal seizures at school.  When Ed asked me about the seizures I explained (and this is not a joke) that the seizures occurred when I thought too much.  Therefore, I tried not to think too hard.  I really wanted Ed to think of me as ‘pretty’ before ‘smart’ – and thought if he felt smarter than me this would help in that regard.  It must have worked because I did end up holding Ed’s hand during a couple of recesses. 

Though I can think of life moments where I tried to downplay my intelligence in order to get a boy to like me, I’m not sure why I felt this was necessary.  I’m still trying to figure out where this thought process originated- perhaps Disney had something to do with it.

The F Word

I recently started listing to a podcast from Barnard College titled “Dare to use the F Word” with F standing for feminism.  I don’t remember how I got turned on to the Podcast, but I have found listening to it has made me question my understanding of what feminism is.

The word feminist conjures up negative feelings and a picture of unkempt, angry women dressed in masculine clothes, and smelling of patchouli.  A feminist is a cross between a hippie who doesn’t care whether she meets society’s definition of beauty, and a revolutionary willing to do anything for her cause.  The desire for equality spreads into every facet of a feminist’s life.  Conversations with feminists are awkward and defensive, because all men are viewed as pigs.  A lost job opportunity is due to gender bias, not lack of qualifications and feminists ostracize women who like to wear make-up and dresses and flirt with boys.  

I’m not sure why the word feminist has such a negative connotation for me.  Weren’t suffragettes feminists? Didn’t they significantly impact women’s rights in a positive way? So what happened during the decades after the suffragettes earned the women’s vote that makes feminism now so unappealing?

I’ve never been concerned with media’s representation of physical beauty.  I’m smart enough to know I’m an individual and I don’t have to have full hair, flawless skin and perfect proportions in order to contribute to society.  In my opinion my life’s contributions have been more significant than those of the model on the front cover of Vogue, though the model might disagree.  Because I’ve never been concerned with emulating models and actors, I’ve had no interest in feminism as defined by me.

Here’s what sparked my feminist paradigm shift:  The CFO of Facebook started a movement called Ban Bossy- in which she wants to remind people that a powerful woman, a woman strong enough to lead, should not be described as “bossy.”  If you think about it “bossy” really is a term used only to describe women; when was the last time you heard someone refer to a man as “bossy?”

Ban Bossy really resonates with me.  I’ve been called bossy on several occasions by friends and family, most of the time it’s done in a friendly-joking (i.e. passive-aggressive) sort of way.  But am I really “bossy,” or do I just take the initiative to lead, and am I brave enough to share my ideas and opinions with people?  Should I be labeled as “bossy” because of that?  If my greatest skill is leadership, or project management, or change management should I temper my skills in order to ensure I am not labeled as “bossy?” 

The fact that I may be willing to downplay my greatest contribution to my team in order to avoid a certain label really resonated with me.  I consider myself a strong woman, but if I am willing to conceal my greatest skill in order to be viewed as submissive and not bossy, then I may be too concerned with satisfying societal expectations for woman.

Ban Bossy made me realize the feminist fight penetrates beyond the skin, and into the very definition of our personal selves.  I feel I need to reevaluate my internal reactions to subliminal criticism and ensure I am myself, 100% of the time.  This paradigm shift has impacted my perception of feminism; maybe feminism isn’t just dressed up in combat boots and unruly hair, but can also be displayed in a conference room when a female refuses to succumb to specific labels, and confidently suggests a process change.