(Okay, potential newspaper column submission... the first part of it, anyway)

There are some times in life when you're going to be stupid. It just happens. That's just a fact of living in the real world. Most of the time, those stupid things you do won't matter a whole lot; like eating ice cream too fast and causing yourself a brain freeze. But sometimes the stupid things you do will make a difference... like getting drunk, running over your mother-in-law's mail box then spray-painting the "F"word across her brand new Mercedes only to find out, the next morning, that you got the wrong mail box and car so suddenly you're on the County Sheriff's black list. I've experienced the former, not the latter.

I have recently discovered a propensity I have for doing stupid things. Rather, I seem to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. When dealing with semi-normal people, this isn't a big deal. When dealing with Mr. Fixer - my Significant Other - it IS a big deal.

The other day, Mr. Fixer and I are having a typical conversation - such is the way of long-distance relationships - and he's in a really good mood. I'm pleased for him and joking around and light hearted. He says he's a little tired and in that specific state, I could ask him anything and he'd answer; even those difficult questions.

We pause this story to insert a little advice. No matter who your S.O. is, if s/he says "you could ask me anything right now". Run. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two-hundred dollars. Just run away. Deny the impulse that makes you want to ask that specific question to which you've been wanting a positive answer. BECAUSE, if you've been waiting to ask "that" question until the time is right, it isn't the right time to ask. Just trust me.

Aaaaaaaaanyway...

What do I do? Me, the Gooberus Maximus? I don't just out and out ask a question. Out of my lips falls the phrase, spoken in a gently teasing tone, "Oh, I've got a question for ya."

*sighs*

The second the words started coming out of my mouth I knew I was being stupid. It's that split second where the $12,000 diamond wedding band slips out of your fingers and straight down the running garbage disposal. You know you can't stuff your hand into the disposal to retrieve the ring, but you're sooooo tempted. Or like that scene in The Unsinkable Molly Brown, where she hides the $300,000 in the wood stove only to discover a minute later that her brand-spankin-new husband is cold and decides to light a fire.

Molto Idiota!

So, after half an hour of berating myself, stalling and trying desperately to come up with a question that ISN'T the question I really want to ask, I finally squeek out the subject of "us" and "our future".

Molto, molto idiota!

The tone of the entire phone call changed. Dramatically. There were a lot of "uh"s, "um"s and "well..."s. The bottom line, however, is that while Mr. Fixer is very much in love with me, he's thinking it would be two years or more before he's ready for marriage due to his financial situation and my physical health situation.

Uh huh. Interesting. I wonder just how hard it really would be to kick my own backside. Oh, never mind, I already did it.

That's not the answer I was looking for. The answer I wanted was his undying devotion and avowals of forever commitment. What I got was hesitation, nervousness and the overwhelming sense of panic that comes from a 6.2 earthquake. Warning! Warning! All Hell Has Broken Loose! Warning! Warning!

What I realized, belatedly, was that Mr. Fixer has an emotional panic button... and I stomped on it!
----

(Since I'm rushed this morning, this is all you're getting. The remainder of this entry is more serious and will not be part of the end column.)

The lesson I take away with me is this:

If Mr. Fixer and I are going to have a long-lasting relationship that ends up in marriage and children and all that interesting stuff, I have two primary choices for behavior. I can either A) never, ever, ever, ever compromise his sense of reality, allowing him to plod along in his life, doing his thing, or B) I can be the source of stability and even-keel reality for which I'm naturally designed.

Choice A gives Mr. Fixer the chance to be the source of chaos and confusion which has become "normal" for him. Choice B gives ME - I am, after all, the important one here - stability, security and a slightly more genuine view of reality. Choice A allows me the freedom to react to what Mr. Fixer says with his words. Choice B requires me to pay attention to his body language, often ignoring his words. Choice A allows me the chance to go on the roller coaster WITH Mr. Fixer - reacting emotionally to whatever stimulus confronts us. Choice B requires me to rely on God to reveal truth.

I've long said I don't like hard work. I've long claimed that I don't particularly enjoy a challenge. I want the easy victory. I want to sit back, wrapped up in my blanket, snuggled up with the fantasy that I CAN have life exactly as I want it.

I choose option B. I choose reality and reliance upon God.

So, Mr. Fixer... Beware. I'm a praying woman - should that really be "preying"? - and my God listens to me. Watch out. Your version of reality might not be as true as you think. Besides, you told me a while back, that there would be times when I needed to gently remind you that you were not facing up to what was real... that you were getting swept up in a fantasy/delusion.

You brought this on yourself, Dearest Heart. I'll show you reality. And, I'm in for the long haul. I will not believe you when you react emotionally to a situation that doesn't merit an emotional response. I will believe God when He shows me what reality truly is. And, I will show you what God shows me. And your life will change.

You've been praying about this, haven't you? You asked God to show you a good woman who wasn't constrained by false realities, didn't you? Or is that MY delusion?