Die Wochenendebeziehung

Ich habe ein Geheimnis von euch versteckt. Wie millionen anderen Paaren in Deutschland, Thomas und ich führen eine Wochenendebeziehung. Er arbeitet als Leistungserhöher (wenn es den Begriff überhaupt gibt), ein Art von Consultant, in die Schweiz. Ich bleibe hier in Erfurt als Englischlehrerin. Wir sehen uns nur am Wochenende, und sogar nur für einundhalb Tage.

Ich rede immer von einem Leben zusammen, aber seit ende Mai diesem Jahr, wir haben nur am Fritag um 23 Uhr bis 14 Uhr am Sonntag Zeit.

Es tut schon weh für uns. Es tut mir Leid wenn ich sehe wie eine acht stunde Reise ihm belastet. Ich kann nicht richtig schlafen wenn er nicht hier ist, aber was sollst? Wir sind jung, und wir haben Karriere, Ziele, und Traüme. Und Kinder, Hof, und Küche ist noch nicht Priorität. Es klingt egoistisch, es ist aber so.

Es war wirklich schwerig am Anfang. Ich war neu in Erfurt, alle Leute waren Fremd. Ich hatte nur meine Arbeit. Ich habe schon allein gewohnt, ich hatte meine eigene Wohnung in die Philippinen. Aber diese neue Einsamkeit war fast unerträglich, weil natürlich ich schon mit einem Leben zur Zweit gewohnt bin. Die Erwartungen, die ich hatte, war eine Wohnung mit zwei Leute. Die Enttäuschung war irgenwie besonders schwerig. In die Phlippinen, Manila war der Ort, wo alle Sache herkommen. In Deutschland, in Europa, Dezentralisation bedeutet, dass Gelegenheiten irgendwoanders liegen kann.

Ich kann nicht umziehen weil sein Vertrag nur bis Dezember läuft. Wir wissen nicht, wo sein nächsten Auftrag ist. Ich glaube, dass unsere Beziehung stark genug ist, und solche Situationen werden unsere Beziehung nicht belasten. Aber die Hoffnung bleibt, dass wir irgenwann in einer Stadt arbeiten und wohnen würden.

Finally...the One?

One book that led me to view life from another frame of mind was "The Commitment," by Dan Savage. He put into question our concept of a "successful marriage." According to him, "til death do us part" marriages are not necessarily happy nor fruitful. There are several marriages, like his own parents', that did not withstand the test of time but from all aspects were actually successful.

Thomas and I had a dicussion last year about the fate of our relationship. He said that should a point in time come that we aren't happy together anymore, we shouldn't view our relationship with regret. That I, in case we break up, should not think that our journey together was a waste of time.

At that time, I didn't understand him, and I viewed his belief as a sort of defense mechanism developed by kids of broken marriages. I viewed it then suspiciously, like the way I viewed pre-nuptial agreements back then.

Reading my old posts about how I wanted my future husband to be makes me laugh! They sound so childish and immature, familiar and yet alien. Was this me? Was I really that crazy? Thomas, if anything, is the opposite of the guy with whom I imagined myself married. The guy I wanted to be with is moneyed, articulate, well-read, a city boy. Thomas is proud of the fact that aside from his school textbooks, he has only read one book his entire life, The Da Vinci Code. I met Thomas as a "poor German student," now he is a "stuggling young professional." Thomas is not verbally articulate, and we settled here in Erfurt as a compromise. He hates big cities.

Yet, we get along really well. We can occupy the same space for extended periods of time without killing each other. Are we two halves of a whole? Probably not. I would describe our relationship like a fusion dish. You never thought that chili and chocolate would taste so good together, but they do! I guess if ended up with my New York Kinda Guy, he would be so insufferable that we would implode.

Before Thomas, I was really wounded by a guy. On paper, we sounded so compatible. We liked books, we were both into the arts, we were both geeks. We wined and dined, and made love because I felt, this was it, he was the one. I rushed into things so strongly that I was blind to the fact that this guy was a neurotic who could crash into a hysterical breakdown at any moment.

So is Thomas the one? Could be. I don't know. I'm not saying. But it's fun having him along for the ride.

Everything fell into place.

Come to think of it, there was never really a definite point in time when he asked me to marry him.

We just knew.

There was no proposal, no 5,000 € engagement ring, no flowers, no bended knees. I guess we're not romantic like that.

It was a fact that we took for granted. I guess it started when we were still living in the Philippines, when sentences like, "I want to name our daughter ---" or "What will happen then when we get married?" started winding its way into our conversations, about four months into the relationship.

This weird inner knowledge that we were going to end up together saw us through our toughest times, like when his father didn't sign the affidavit of support so I could get my German visa, when a land mass separated us for four months.

And even during our darkest moments last year, when I was thinking about calling it quits, he was most determined to keep the relationship going. He refused to accept that I was going to call it quits because of a mistake he made, and negating all of the hard work we have invested in a relationship he knew hasn't yet reached its peak.

We had no definite plans of when to do it, but we knew it was going to happen.

Then came the time that we had to do it. We shrugged our shoulders and said, why not? We want to get married anyway.

We wanted to have a proper wedding here in Germany, but many things came in the way. German bureaucracy, internal family problems. So we said, "Screw it, we're going to Vegas, baby!"

We rented a car, and took a week off from work and drove to Denmark. No parents, no friends. It was just me and him. Just how we wanted it. Just how we have always done it. Me and him.

We always get by with a little help from our friends. Thank you for supporting us!

Our Dirty Little Secrets

Warning: Adult Content

What women like me don't understand about men is how they think that we're hypersensitive jealous insecure bitches on PMS. That we are not normal, that we're from another planet, that we won't understand.

For example, Thomas's friend Sophie once discovered all of her boyfriend's porn as she was tinkering (with his permission)on his computer. It was hidden under an innocuous title. And she laughed.

"I don't get it with men," she said. "Why would he think that I would be offended if I knew he downloaded porn? Every normal guy I know downloads porn!"

And for some reason, men don't like to acknowledge that women masturbate.

People who have read my blog from the very beginning know that I like porn. You all know that this blog started out as an anonymous sex blog until I had to give up the ghost because I was discovered. You all know that I am very comfortable with myself and my sexuality. Thomas knows all that, and we're together partly because he was the only boyfriend I've had who was actually more than ok with the fact that I wash my dirty linen online.

I think it's cute that he sometimes asks me for permission to masturbate. "Is it ok sweetie? I feel like it and I hope you're not angry."

Of course I'm not angry. I completely understand. While I prefer sex zur zweit, there are times when I want to spend some quiet time by myself, and do some good old-fashioned Selbstbefriedigung. One great thing about our relationship is that we are willing to let the other person alone when he or she wants to be left alone.

I won't get much into detail, but I will let these things slip. He is, uh, aided by his computer, and I have a favorite pillow that I always have around when I do my thing.

However, Thomas has come to hate the pillow. "Nimm den Feind weg!" He exclaims, tossing the pillow to the other end of the room at bedtime. Sometimes, when I have the pillow beside me before I go to sleep, I will find it pushed to the floor when I wake up. I think it's hilarious. I have an idea why he feels threatened, but there goes the theory that women are hypersensitive jealous insecure bitches on PMS. Maybe we should be looking at the men!

The Bride Wore Purple

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