First they’re sour, then they’re sweet.
Yes, that’s slogan for Sour Patch Kids candy, but it’s also how I described my dude last night. Haha.
We were gathering up the trash to go out and he had this tone with me when pointing out how I ate all of the chocolate covered pretzels one of his customers brought for him. (Ugh, he’ll leave sweets around for days knowing I’ll break down and eat them if they just sit there and then I’m the bad guy for not saving him some. LOL) Ummm so yeah, my sensitive ass gets upset because I’m already feeling some type of way about being fat and needing to be on a diet and so I overblow things and cry. Then he comes in the bedroom later all sweet, cuddling up to me, looking me in the eyes and telling me how much he loves me.
Is it normal for couples to sporadically have these relatively meaningless spats and then go right back to being friends?? Haha. I swear, as we get closer to this “to death do us part” arrangement, I am driving myself crazy analyzing our relationship, other relationships around us, our past relationships, the alternate-reality future relationships that could be… It’s making me nutso! Of course added to the fact that I’m already a super sensitive overthinker with a lot of built up stressed tucked away. Gosh.
I wonder if things will be less intense once this year is over. The ideal ideal ending for this year will be: us married and living in a house near family with decent jobs and an overall healthier lifestyle. But I’m sure I’ll find something new to obsess about in 2013. My guess is it will likely revolve around conceiving a child. Already I have freaked myself into questioning if sitting with a laptop on our laps or me laying with one across my midsection would affect the condition of my eggs or his sperm or a unbeknown growing embryo. (Yes, I’m weird.) I don’t want to be one of those women who make the creation of a baby into a business-like arrangement of needing to do it when I’m ovulating or turning sex into a science experiment.
Why can’t I just get knocked up like the average chick?? I guess it wouldn’t be my life if that were the case.