my relationship makes no sense

I took still fitting into my skinny skinny pants as an invitation to eat strawberry pop tarts in bed. Which is the only thing that has gone on in this bed of note in the two months I've been living here.

A possible long weekend has been deferred to the next long weekend and I settle into relative celibacy with relative ease. I can't decide if my relationship is incredibly awesome or incredibly doomed. Awesome because instead of trying to plan every event of our lives together, I'm spending the long weekend having a quasi-reunion at the lake. Doomed because maybe there's some quota of time that has to be spent together to get the two for one discount.

The girl before me was... planning where they would live and when they would have kids. He responded to this by being attracted to someone who moves every four months and gets along with children because she still likes the same stuff as them.

Despite (his) intermittent type-A stress about how much we should invest into this for fear of it ending, somewhere along the way it became the best of both worlds. When we're in the same city, we have all the benefits of a stable long term relationship. But we don't make decisions yet based on the relationship, we maintain our single lives, and we have our own friends. My friends like him, but they like that they still get to hang out with me alone more. I don't really need to deal with the inconvenience of that whole dating post-college thing, he doesn't have to explain the insanity of his workload to the engagement ring seeking legions. It's like I'm making this up.

It basically would make no sense to the general public, I'm not really sure it makes any sense to me when I try to think about it too much. I would tend to say that the one downside is that it lacks that whole psychotic love drug thing, but reading things I wrote in the first four months I know that part actually happened. And then, like all good psychotic love drug things, it slowed down and allowed us to resume our normal lives. Our actual normal lives, not some co-life with co-uple friends doing co-ercive weekend activities that signify being a lame adult (OMG, I would love to spend this weekend Berry Picking with your eight cousins who don't talk to me and your sister who continually discusses the 'ferret room' in her house).

He's also the first relationship I can think of that hasn't relied on dramatic events to constantly perpetuate that euphoric love feeling. I would say I've had... four things that look like relationships. All of them were at least six months. All of them involved multiple break ups, the kind of romantic dialogue that could fuel a 1998 WB series, and heavy drinking. While those are great building blocks of all long term relationships, the point where the conversations went into syndication, the breakups got boring and we ran out of beer would eventually occur. All of them, except the last, involved a sad ex boyfriend randomly showing up at my door weeks later saying things about getting married and how this was serious. There is nothing better to cool the jets of a dramatic affair than the promise of harmonious domesticity.

(Not one is currently in a stable relationship. I've heard rumors one is gay, or attracted to men, or dating dudes, whatever)

So now I'm not progressing towards anything (other than monogamy), and other than strawberry pop tarts keeping me company (ground into) the sheets over the next month, it seems to be alright.

ALSO: in the chronicles of awesome: I have this friend with insane educational qualifications who is basically a badass cowgirl. She recently accompanied my best friend to a wedding shower. It was small town and everyone was talking about babies, in that way that people do who have, or aspire to immediately have, babies; like they invented procreation. In that way that implies people without a plus one are wastes of ovaries. My friend loudly said "I don't want to have children" and let the conversational ball drop, to partial relief of the bride who wishes everyone would stop questioning when she'll start popping out placenta. We're 90% sure we will be shunned at the wedding but that at least two people from our table will make out with local cowboys and probably cause some kind of altercation... here's hoping...

ALSO: I'm flirting with insomnia.