My highschool had a student who got an invitation for an international physics and maths competition (I got knocked out just before the national Maths finals dammit). Our school got in contact with her school there and they arranged for a student exchange project. We’d visit Estonia for a week, then later they’d come and visit Holland.
So six Dutch and six Estonian students were selected to attend and the Estonian students were given the choice who’d be coupled up with whom. I ended up being coupled to a girl named Karin.
Karin was a very nice person. We got along nicely, though not spectacularly. We had fun, but our personal differences where quite extensive. We were pen-palls for a short while before that habit died. One brilliant detail was the sauna in her backyard, though. :o)
Anyway, for most days, the Estonian school had some culturally sound day activity planned. Then at night, we’d be let loose to have fun of a more social nature. We hit the bars, disco’s etc. I really had a blast there.
Fastforward for six months. Our Estonian friends come to Holland. It was during this week that Piilu and I got really close. We’ve spend quite a few hours sitting over our beerbottles and wineglasses talking about, well anything really. Metallica’s “…And nothing else matters” was usually quoted in most of those conversations. Fun really, we’ve never had a relationship but we still had (and have) “our song”.
We could’ve had a relationship by the way, but it never happened. That’s a completely different story though, so I won’t go into that now. Not really relevant either.
Anyway, besides Piilu and Karin, there was a guy called Tarzan as well. Tarzan (no, not his real name. How’d you guess?) was the Don Juan of the twelve youngsters. What this meant then, was that Tarzan was a lot of fun, very relaxed and generally a cool guy. You know, the kind that has a way with the opposite sex.
Now Piilu tells me that Tarzan is getting married today. This, in itself is great enough, but in case of Tarzan it got me thinking. (Yes! I’m thinking again!)
One of the oldest urban legends among the “young adults” is that getting a “significant other” equals losing al your fun- and general you-time. How true is this?
I’ve seen examples go both ways. A friends of mine, I’ll call him MirrorImage, has had a real “ball-n-chain” girlfriend for about 5 years. She really dominated him, but not in that nicely erotic kind of way. Basically, their relationship amounted to the following. If she gave the green light, it happened. I still think she manipulated MirrorImage using sexual favours so that he’d go along with her most of the time. Suffice to say, I did not care much for her. They finally broke up after she cheated on him and she’s now married to that guy. Good riddance.
My previous relationship, though far less seriously then MirrorImage’s, was kinda like that as well from time to time.
An example of this going the right way can also be found among my friends. The previously mentioned UberGoth and BirthdayBoy were a couple who gave eachother enough room, without straying from each other. But since good things aren’t fun to write about, I’ll say no more about this. :o)
So when does a good thing become too much of one? Here’s my checklist to see if you’re in trouble, gents ‘n ladies, in descending order of magnitude (so the subtlest signs are topmost).
- S/he has no fun activities that do not include (i.e. no life of his/her own) and would like to share this with you.
- S/he says it’s really okay if you’ll go out to your friends, with a long, long face.
- S/he’ll “accidentally” make plans on your regular night out that require you both.
- S/he’ll repeatedly drop hints that she doesn’t like those friends you so often go out to see.
- S/he offers you sex if you don’t go see your friends.
Generally, I think that if you recognise ANY of the above signals, fuck the other. Leave him or her and burn his or her possessions. You're you and if s'/he can't deal with that then tough cookie, shucks to thee.
I've been in a relationship that was borderline obsessive possessive. It could've gone either way. Believe me, I know what I'm talking out.
And on another upbeat note, I’ll leave you all with my frustration of the day: Am I an asshole for using MirrorImage’s personal life on this diary?