ATYT: Conflicted about having kids

I've recently been having a dilemma about kids. It seems the older I get, the less attractive the idea of having them is. It's strange--before college, I could never imagine myself having kids. In fact, I always shelved the idea when it crossed my mind. All I knew back then was I only wanted one child in the future, but that's it.

I started getting broody in college. I would have dreams about my future daughter, and once, my future son, and got depressed in the morning because in the dreams my 'baby' always ends up being taken away from me somehow. In one dream, my beautiful daughter was kidnapped. In another, my newborn son died. Nonetheless, I really wanted to have a child for some reason. Not a baby... like, a toddler. I wanted to take care of something. I was being a woman, and I guess my nurturing instincts were at its peak at that time because it was probably the best time for me to have children. I believe your body dictates your would-be lifestyle--tailored-fit to your unique self, of course. However, the Real World Lilith wasn't ready. She was in college, had so much ahead of her that should not yet involve children.

I've always been awkward with kids. I'd always be too polite with the majority of them, whether they're blood-related to me or not. I've only been comfortable with one or two children in my life--and they weren't even relatives. They were also far from shy, and very intelligent. Yep, you guessed it--I'm not the type to baby-talk kids and give them funny nicknames. I do that with pets. But humans are humans and I talk to kids the way I talk to regular people--more patient, more caring, kinder, of course, but I don't lengthen words and use a weird voice with them. I understand some kids may prefer this, because if they see that an adult could switch to I-speak-kid mode, they could easily relate to them.

I'm not sure if my uncertainty stems from that fact... let's ask psych majors. All I know is, right now, my life is a mess and so many things are holding me back from doing the things I need to do and want to do... and I feel like the time I originally hoped to have kids would have to be pushed further into the future.

There's also the nasty reality of having to go through so much stress and pain, for at least 21 years--from the time Lilith Junior is a fetus up 'til when she's in college. If she's a little more like me then she'll continue to be under my care (ish) 'til infinity.

It's like... I don't know. You carry them in your belly for nine months where your activities are somewhat limited: no meds, you can't do certain physical activities, you can't dye your hair, you have all these... preggo symptoms you have to deal with... you go through labor and it hurts like fuck, you have to feed your child and they pull too hard and it hurts like fuck, you stay up all night trying to figure out why they're crying, and then they get old enough to get themselves in enough trouble to give you heart attacks, then they get even older and start rejecting your attempts to correct, guide or even connect with them because they're at a very awkward stage where they are confused with so many things in life that they just want you to stay away, then they get into loads of trouble again that, despite how tolerant you believed you were, you just couldn't stand seeing your own flesh and blood fucking up like that and you get massive headaches at the shit they pull, then they start sleeping around and having relationships and they just won't open up to you sometimes and it drives you crazy but you can't do anything about it... et cetera... the list goes on.

This is the ugly truth.

The moment you decide to (whether it was accidental at first or not) have a child, thousands of other possibilities end for you. True, you open a whole different chapter in your life when you enter parenthood, but I cringe at the echoing voices of a thousand people I've heard all throughout my life who reiterate: 'parenthood is beautiful' and 'mothers are heroes' and 'children bring you joy, they are gifts' and 'having children is the most wonderful thing in the world'. These are all truths, and I clearly remember agreeing... however, right now, I can only shake my head at the thought.

Just like there are no perfect parents, there are no perfect children. There will be shittons of disappointment and I'm sure it'll hurt; I can just imagine how horrible my parents feel knowing I am the way I am. Of course they accept me, as every parent should, but I know that deep inside, parents will always want to change something about their children. It doesn't matter how trivial it is... we're all human, and we all strive to be the best we can be and we want the 'best' for people we love. Then again, same concept--we're human, so we have different interpretations of what's 'best' for us and for others.

I guess now I realize that parenthood isn't about just raising children well. Of course it is... but... there's a bigger complication that comes with it, and that is the burden of acceptance. Now I understand that I am not ready. Ready to nurture a baby, yes. Ready to raise one... not so much.

I hope I'd still be young enough by the time I decide to give it a go. Haha. And I hope by that time I'd accomplished as much as I should to deserve a reward, a Little Lilith.


Lilith

Lilith: Miles of octaves (my man's different speaking voice pitches)

This is a creepy yet empirical analysis of my beau's varying vocal registers. Read at your own risk.

I always kind of knew, but Miles*, like each one of us, adjusts the tone of his voice and manner of speaking depending on who he's addressing.

Its significance to me is overwhelming. In a matter of five minutes, I understood the importance of the people in his life and how he talked with them. I understood that it is one giveaway--one way for me to understand where a person stands in his life. I know him enough to be able to piece things together. I'm not even sure if he's actually easy to read, or if I probably have just known him for a long time, or if the theory that I'm actually pretty fucking discerning can be verified.

Hm. It could be all three.

No matter. I think I'm going to come up with a list first, then explain later. I'm not entirely sure if my educated guesses are accurate, but they all have a basis. Now, without further ado:

1. Me
2. My friends
3. His parents
4. His childhood friend and best friend, Christian*
5. His brother
6. Close friends
7. Friends, my parents
8. Acquaintances, strangers, supervisors, co-workers

I have yet to really get into how he speaks to different people around him. What I'm a bit certain of right now is his voice pitch. I guess this is obvious, but I've observed, and I'm pretty fucking sure, that his voice is in his highest octave when he's talking to me. I can't think of anybody else he's used this particular voice pitch on. The closest would be animals--you know, pets. Pet dogs. Actually, his voice goes a even a bit higher when he's addressing dogs. But don't we all talk funny towards animals?

Er, I don't, that's for sure. Hahaha. I talk to animals the way I talk with people. Boring.

I've observed that his voice goes a little deeper when he's talking to his parents. But I can also tell he's just as relaxed as when he's talking to me. I guess he's just a little more casual with parents, so he's being his usual self--the son. I don't want to say he's equally comfortable with me as he is with parents, because his parents and I offer distinct types of comfort. I only have theories right now as to why his vocal register is slightly different with his parents (compared to me).

I wanted to write about this after I've gone through the list, but it'll make more sense if I mention it now. I think that the voice you use to talk with people may/can/partially depend on how comfortable you are with them. With Miles, I guess the more comfortable he is, the higher his voice goes. I'm not sure yet. I think that it takes more effort to lower your voice than to raise it, so I assume that if you're very comfortable (and, well, pleased) with the person you're talking to, you unconsciously raise your voice pitch a bit.

Moving on... I've heard him talking with his best friend. His voice drops even lower, but his manner is still relaxed and friendly. Happy, even. He sounds more open, and now that I think about it, I think Christian, his parents and I belong to one group altogether. He's comfortable with all of us--and the difference in voice pitch that he uses on us is more natural than intentional. He's being himself, being Christian's Miles, my Miles, his parents' Miles. But he's still Miles.

I think that he plays the natural role of the boyish best friend; the obedient, respectful and responsible son; and, er, the boyfriend, which are reflected in the tone of his voice when he addresses Chris, his parents, or me, respectively. Again, there is barely any effort; probably even none, when the tone changes.

I'd like to point out a sub-theory: the voice register he uses on his parents can never be duplicated. They're his only parents, I think he will always speak to them in a distinctive voice, in a distinctive manner. I haven't actually observed that yet, so I don't know much, but I have a feeling I'm pretty spot-on on this one. When I hear him talking to his dad or mom, he sounds casual, his voice drops (lower than when he talks to me), he's polite yet at times he sounds bored. He's very controlled. You can never tell if he's being annoyed, happy, sad, or what. I guess that says something about how he wants to be perceived by his parents. Then again, I'm just assuming. It's interesting, though.

This one's interesting. His brother. I think the voice he uses on his brother borders on the one he uses with his close friends, casual friends, or even the people he works with. His voice would definitely be much lower on his younger brother. This time, however, it'll be slightly intentional. He would unconsciously make an effort to keep his voice lower. He's the older brother, he and little bro disagree more often than not. He's superior. He believes he is the better brother, the survivor, the winner, the one who will never get lost. He wants to show his authority, wants to influence the younger one, because li'l bro gets lost very often. Deep inside, he cares a lot about his brother, so he can be imposing, even just through the slightest of manners; and if his lost brother starts getting a direction in life, he wants to be responsible in making that happen.

I'd like to think his voice goes even lower with close friends. They weren't family, so of course there are some parts of him he'd like to mask. If a deeper voice helps, he'll do it. This is all unconscious, by the way; the effort is almost not felt, but it is there. Friends? Deeper. Acquaintances? Even deeper. The people he works with? He's at his lowest damn Do. And I get it. The more he has to keep about himself, or the more he has to impress them, or maintain a certain impression, the lower his voice goes. I think it reassures him. They become part of his walls. Somehow, I wonder if we are all like this.

The voice he uses with my parents is entirely different, to be honest. It is deep, because he put some walls up, but there's also a certain nervousness about them. It's another distinct voice. It has some elements from the one he uses when talking to his own parents, and some parts from when he addresses my friends. I'll get to that one in a bit. It's a little tense, but polite, but self-conscious; careful. He's trying to be precise, and he's still testing waters. It'll change someday, so I'm not worried. Somehow I wish his voice would go up a little when my parents converse with him.

I think it's pure discomfort with my friends. In a way, he tries to sound like he's talking to me when he's talking to my friends. He's part nervous, part self-conscious. A hundred percent polite and borderline awkward. It may be the fact that there probably isn't anything common between my friends and him; or that he probably won't encounter the same group of friends again in the future that he doesn't seem to be making an effort to put himself out there too much (control his voice somehow). My friends are his acquaintances, but his voice retains the same quality as it does when we talk. In other words, he's actually only reserving that voice for me if I ever engage him into a conversation while my friends are around (which I do), plus, plus (he wants to appear friendly, boyfriend-like, gentle, and polite).

Unpleasant thoughts plagued my mind as I wondered what he would sound like if he had to talk with other women (not just ones from work, but strangers, or friends of friends, relatives of friends, friends of relatives); particularly attractive ones. I also wondered how he's talk to his exes. I witnessed a conversation between him and his ex before, and damn, was he talking to a puppy? Besides being a teenager, was there any other reason his voice was borderline soprano? Was he trying to meet the shrill vocal quality of his freaking ex? I wonder.

--

It's funny that I think about these things--even funnier that I write about it in a research paper-inspired manner. I feel kind of sick knowing I'll probably never have anybody thinking too hard about me like this, trying to figure me out as if I'm a problem to be solved. I yearn for that for some reason, but I only want that from one person, nobody else. That's not too much to ask, is it? I don't need that kind of attention from anybody else but a significant other.

There are times I wish I was male so I could please some hopeless woman out there who believed no man would ever cry when they first see her in her wedding dress, or notice that they're wearing a new pair of earrings or cut their hair a fourth of an inch shorter, or that they have different types of laughs, or varying voice registers.

Hm... but this is life, meaning it's real. Meaning, this is not a film, or a book... not a work of fiction. Things hurt and you feel them. You can't re-read something you missed, or skip pages to get to the end. You can't re-write it and you can never expect anything. The characters are more real, more fucked up, more unbelievably unpredictable. 

Call of duty! The kitchen beckons me. My stomach protesting is saving me from getting upset. Therefore, I must retire, and hopefully I don't creep out too many people with this revealing post. Oh, well, I warned you anyway.


Lilith

--

*Code name/s

ATYT: How I decide that it's the right job for me

I have a problem--and that is, up until today, my career life has remained stagnant.

I know I'm only supposed to choose wisely, but not be picky. However, there are some things that indicate that the job I'm applying for isn't the right one for me:

1. The job's nature. If it's a sales job, or something that requires A LOT of exposure to different people on a daily basis, it isn't for me. Those types of jobs take so much energy for me, and, coming from experience, makes me want to lock myself up in my room all throughout the weekend because I know it's the only place where I can get my alone time.

2. The company's reputation. If the employer is from the industry I majored in, good. If it's slightly off (pharmaceutical distributors, FMCG, etc.), it has to be a big, or well-known firm. I would trust that I'd be in good hands because these organizations, I'm sure, have a good track record in terms of taking care of their employees. 

3. The culture I've observed during the interview. There can be misconceptions regarding a workplace's culture. I was actually pretty nervous when I first had my job, because I had only met the people who interviewed me at the time, and they were the only ones I was sure were nice. I remember overhearing other employees in the background and feeling intimidated because I was so sure I haven't encountered people like them before. I was wrong, though--my co-workers were awesome.

I still observe, though, every time I am interviewed, the atmosphere of the workplace. I was crushed twice because I liked two of them so much but I had to decline the first one's offer, and the second one seemed to have hired somebody else. What I liked was the aura the people gave off in those offices--they were positive. I could feel not just the hard work, but the drive, the optimism, the support and openness of these people. They hired the right people, I could tell--because they were operating under the guidance of their company's values.

I've recently encountered an office with bad vibes in them. The employees were a little rude, unfriendly, stuck in their own little worlds, weren't afraid to show their bad sides, PLUS a previous employee came in and was cursing under his breath about how people in that office had NO MANNERS.

I'm not sure about this one job I applied for--it seems that the company is looking for very specific people--people from upper-middle to upper class statuses. Some of the questions asked implied it--they were trying to find out if you were well-off. It's understandable, because it will help you in your career there. I just find it... unfair, I think. The people are nice, it seems, but if I ever get hired, I'm sure I'll always feel uneasy wearing generic clothes, eating cheap food, et cetera. It's a prestigious company, the people are great, a job there would look good on my resume. But there's that... I'm-too-poor-for-you factor, and the nature of the job is too similar to the one I had before (which I was hoping to leave behind me x.x).

4. The office layout. Believe it or not, if you want effective employees, you'd want to invest in a nice office. I think that privacy is key for every individual. Semi-privacy (short cubes with glass windows) is okay. But one long freaking table? That guarantees the person you're sitting beside is peeking at your work and that your bags and stuff are side-by-side? Um. That makes me uncomfortable. I think I've been spoiled by my previous employer--we were given private cubes--lots of space, just a solitary window by the entrance, but you're basically facing walls in three corners. How cool is that? You can talk to people from the area, because it's pretty small (yet spacey), but unless somebody passes by your cube, nobody can observe how your fix your wedgie or adjust your bra or whatever. Also, you're not allowed to, but you can eat in secret with tall cubes like the ones in my previous job. Ahhhhh, I regret leaving. Gah. -_-

I don't like cramped spaces. I'd also prefer not to have people working behind, or in front of me unless we're separated by cube walls. Of course, you don't always get what you want, but sometimes, you get lucky and get to work in a really awesome office. It's pretty much hit-or-miss in this aspect.

I've also encountered horrible offices recently. Gawd. One was a startup "company", they had two brands under it, and they all worked in one freaking room. Like, one unit. It looked like an examination room. People were sitting around each other and a lot of the chairs were plastic. There was no receiving area, and the "office" also doubled as a warehouse where they keep their products. Everybody was in the same room--from the IT people to the creative people to the management people to the general services people... just... every "department" (I keep putting quotation marks because it's a very small company) was in the same room. Ugh.

Another office looked like a classroom. Yes, there were cubes. But there were just too many people in one space, not separated by walls. The cubes are short, too, and windowed. Plus, there was a strange seating arrangement--people worked in rows. So you had people working behind you, and there are people working behind them, etc. It was too cramped. You can kick the person in front of you. *Sigh*


I'll definitely add more to this list if I think of any new considerations. I know I've been ranting about being jobless FOREVER, but I can't really afford to have short-term jobs anymore. I don't want to just work, I want a career... so I have to make sure I can stay for as long as I like at a company that doesn't shred goddamn pounds off me for too many reasons.

I hope my next job will have more pros than cons...

Wish me luck.


Lilith

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*Code name/s

Lilith: Toll fees

The title is not literal.



I suck. I used to write very good blog posts... back in my not-so-anonymous blogs. Now I can only sigh at the length and the frustrating lack of passion in every word I seem to post on here. I think the best one has been the very first entry—but I guess all this—this hollow sensation I’m getting—is just because I feel like my life has no real purpose right now. I’m unemployed, having a hard time looking for a job, probably being rejected by all the firms I’ve sent applications to and that have screened me, and probably made a stupid mistake turning down a job offer only because it will ruin my health.

(Only ruin my health? Really? “Only”?

(hmm, guess I still made the right decision...?))

I think my depression shows through my eating and sleeping habits: my appetite has been weak for almost two months now. I gained back the ten pounds I lost when I was still employed, but I’m not exactly healthy. I think I eat half the amount of what I usually do, which is 50% less than the right amount of food intake if I want to reach my goal weight. More meat! More carbs! More veggies! But nope. I’m too depressed right now to even get excited over my favorite dishes. That, ladies and gentlemen, got me very worried.

I discovered something—with the right kind of rice, and with some chopsticks I can eat as much as I can without having to deal much with my PMS-y appetite. But we didn’t have any chopsticks, so I ate with one hand, using a fork. For everything.

I think there’s a certain appeal to eating with one hand as opposed to two; an appeal to only being able to put so much in your mouth at one time. A spoon can easily ruin that—especially a big one (which we have and use. Can’t stand it! Toads have bigger mouths than I do!).

I think there’s a deeper science with eating food. Duh. There definitely is—it’s psychology. If people who work in the food industry know there’s a proper way to eat certain foods (y’know, what wine goes with what, what type of pasta or cheese to use with what dish, etc.), then there are ways to literally eat food that will make them taste better for you.

I think M&M’s taste better when you crush them with your teeth while they’re lying vertically between them. When I was in high school, I knew a couple of people that ate their potato chips by crushing the contents and getting a plastic spoon to scoop the crushed bits with. I’ve heard of people using ketchup for everything—yes, even for dishes with soup. *Shudder*

Here’s my fascination with consuming only tiny, bite-sized amounts of food in my mouth—figured it always leaves you wanting more. Our helper’s cooking is a carbon copy of my mom’s, so there’s no room for disinterest. I thought how embarrassing it would be if people actually saw me eating with just a fork, but you have to do something to maintain your health.

I keep running out of companies to send applications to. I’ve looked up Top 1000 companies and sent applications even to whatever hasn’t been included in the list. I was stupid not to start searching right after I left my job.

Ugh, but I needed to rest. I was a wreck—I literally looked like a zombie back then. You’ve no idea.

If I wasn’t so goddamned unhealthy, I could’ve just saw to it that I’d have a place to go to after leaving work. Oh, well, I’m young and stupid. Young people make mistakes (but they’re pretty fucking dumb if they repeat them... so that means I’m brainless!) and I figured the best way to learn from something is to learn it the hard way.

I’ve gotten lost so many times, but it’s because of those moments of darkness that I am now enlightened.

Shit, did the brainless Lilith just say something cool? Uh oh, damn, now I’m gonna be popular. Hey, want me to sign your shirt? Your butt?


Kidding aside.

I give myself brain damage by smashing my head against the wall everyday out of sheer self-disappointment... but something keeps telling me that I’m still doing the right thing. I mean, I’m doing my best. I’ve done nothing but look for jobs and send applications besides reading books, watching and reading the news, eating, bathing and sleeping.

I’m on the right track. I’m on the right track. I’m on the right track.

Right?

Lilith

Lilith: When a relationship matures

I’m not a relationship expert. Nonetheless, I can speak for the feminine gender regarding this subject, and can probably give sound opinions on the matter... I think. -_-

The nature of a romantic relationship you have when you’re in your teens is different from that of one you have when you’re in your twenties, thirties, etc. Of course, we can’t make generalizations, because each relationship is unique.

If you’re one of those people who have been with your partner since you were teenagers (we are now, of course, assuming you’re much older), I assume many things have changed in your relationship. You may be more deeply connected, or connected in more ways than you could have ever imagined when you first dated. Perhaps you’re sick of one another, or are hating each other more and more as time passes. You could also be falling, or growing apart.

If you’re anything like me and you care about staying together, you will see the problem/s and have intelligent forecasts—and a lot of times you won’t see good things in the future—so you talk to your boyfriend or girlfriend about it and find ways, together, to improve things.

My biggest relationship issues have something to do with verbal and mental communication. When you’re in a new relationship, you never really run out of things to talk about and you don’t have to be good at reading each other’s actions. You will usually be pleased with the things you discover about one another, because you and your partner strive to put your best feet forward at all times. You do this too much that when you are faced with your first challenge—a disturbing discovery—you can easily shrug it off.

Miles* and I were the happiest couple I knew. That honeymoon stage lasted for, I think, two years.

But early into the first year, when I was at my happiest with him, he crushed my heart for the very first time. I was obsessed with looking people up online, so when I looked him up, I found out he had a girlfriend.

We’ve been dating for around three to four months then. How could he have “forgotten” to mention that? I confronted him the following day, after I thought I would die of hypertension from stress.

He told me he had already broken up with her. He said he had taken care of that two weeks prior to my discovery. It didn’t help anything and I didn’t trust him at all... but that, I figured, wasn’t the worst of my discoveries. It was just the beginning of my trip to Calvary (more on that on this blog in the near future). I can sort of laugh at that one now that I have more serious and alarming issues—now, with real, heavy, adult-relationship concerns, I find that fault cute.

I broke up with Miles at one point because he had just become so indifferent, short, and cold; on top of being his typical uninterested self. I admit that I can be easily bothered by hurtful words, but that’s because you are supposed to be compassionate towards people you care about/love. I end up making a big deal out of such things, which in turn, upsets him and stresses him out, and then he gets short and irate. He would spit one offensive sentence after another, just adding insult to injury. I try to reason out with him, try to enlighten him about what exactly is happening, but he’s already shut me out. He only cared about having a good night’s rest over solving pressing matters.

Before the break-up, he made me cry every day (I used to barely cry because of him)—he didn’t care about the relationship anymore, and he was sick of me. Sick of me caring about this relationship and trying to fix it and trying to explain to him that he shouldn’t be hurting me, and that he should be kind to me. He always assured he was trying his best to be better, but I always found that hard to believe because right after every promise that he’ll sensitive to my feelings, he would find another way to similarly offend me—within another week, the following day, or the next half hour.

We were dealing with an endless cycle of fuckup-fight- makeup. Each time we fight we are slightly different people—I think we like each other less and we pull away from each other more. He’s less patient, I’m less forgiving, he’s less sensitive and I’m stricter. The only point we meet at? We were both growing exponentially lax towards each other. He can grab me and throw me around as he pleases because he knows I’ll never leave him; I can do the same because I believe I have the right to. Is it okay that we do these things? I don’t own him, and he shouldn’t be taking me for granted. We are equally at fault and we screw each other up equally. The good news? We’re both intelligent and underneath all the anger and hatred, we knew what was wrong, and what we should do.

We do have miraculous, and rather peaceful conversations wherein we discuss about how we can improve our relationship. We talk about the manner we address each other and how to make it better. I suggest a shitton of things to help us get closer again, besides the usual link-sharing and storytelling.

Miles and I are from very different backgrounds. For one, only one of us is Asian. We were brought up differently, too. He’s government/service-oriented employee and I’m in the communications/creative field. I can write and draw and shit and he can do math and engineering shit. He has a dick, I have mammaries (I think). He’s just a few years older, which means I’m still a few years older than he is. I’m good at handling money, he... needs improvement in that area. The world amazes me, and I am endlessly fascinated by so many things—a dynamic character, that used to be one-dimensional and self-centered and contended living inside a box. He’s a little bit more into specific things, and will tend to avoid things outside of his expertise or interest. He makes up for that by being outgoing, wanting to explore the world, never being able to stay put at home like I do. In short, he’s a dog, and I’m a cat.

I guess that’s where some of our problems lie. We’re actually so different. Neither of us ever thought we’d ever disagree so much about so many things at the beginning of the relationship. And, duh, it’s because we only shared our interests with each other—and tried to mirror each other.

As our relationship aged, we slacked off more. Yes, we got busier, dealt with more real-life problems as time passed, but you can only control that so much until it starts to control you.

Thankfully life stress hasn’t gotten to me bad enough to ruin my love life yet. His tolerance seems to be a little smaller, since he can only handle so much ‘til he breaks. I insist that he can help it, that he can help himself, because there’s no other way but to do that unless he wants to ruin us; but he needs more time to learn how to.

Controlling your emotions, especially negative ones, can be learned. As educated adults, he and I can support each other on that, to have a more positive attitude that will help him and I become us again.

Being uninterested, tuning out, and lack of verbal communication, though, can be a massive deal breaker. Just because you’re from different backgrounds doesn’t mean you have to remain an alien to their world. You actually shouldn’t. I think it’s so cool that mom can’t do sports and isn’t into sports, but she watches with my dad the sports guy, and understands basically every sport’s mechanics. I find it even cooler that dad the action movie fan buys and watches feel-good, female-skewed movies with my mom and I. And likes it! These seemingly simple gestures are far greater than what they appear to be.

I now tell Miles that there’s no reason to just sit there and listen when I talk about my work. It feels like a chore when I explain terms he may not be familiar with because he just stares blankly at me and nods and mhms. I don’t know if he gets it, and I’m sure he doesn’t, so I encourage him to ask. What, why, how. I like it when people ask me questions. I’d LOVE it if he did. His work jargon usually throws me off sometimes so I’d politely (or sometimes, impatiently, because hello, I don’t know anything about machine work) ask him to explain what this one tool is, its purpose, how it’s dealt with, et cetera. To be honest, his face kind of lights up a little when I ask questions—not just about work, or his hobbies that I don’t share with him, but about things in general... like things I don’t understand, or his opinion on a theory, experience or event.

I think that one of the best ways to keep each other happy in a relationship is to keep learning more about each other. This requires a keen sense of observation and a natural, endless curiosity about the other person. Your partner-pleasing powers increase when you know more about them.

If you really are into your partner, consider these things: you don’t have to share every interest, but showing them that you’re willing to be part of their world more, learn about them endlessly, keeps them just as interested in you. Remember what got you together in the first place—shared interests, opinions, experiences.

I have a feeling we’ll get back together very soon.

Lilith

--

*Code name/s