DIY Bride

The Bride Branches Out

While I love to regale you all with stories, tutorials, and tips about wedding stuff, I was hoping it might be okay with you, dear readers, if I widened the reach of the DIY Bride series into a broader scope of topics – namely, how to deal with this whole new realm of wedded or partnered bliss, or rather, how to get used to this new person in the house that is kind of stinky.

Okay, Jon isn’t really that stinky most of the time, though his body’s ability to produce sweat that can majorly discolor every sheet set in the house is pretty mind-boggling. Plus, if I start in on his personal hygiene, he will definitely feel compelled to swoop into the comments section and tattle to everyone that I only wash my hair once a week and can rarely be bothered to shave my legs (a razor will seriously last me a clean six months. They usually rust before they get dull), so let’s just say he smells like roses and leave the cleanliness comments there. However, I am 32 years old and lived by myself, quite happily, for many, many years. Getting used to, and making room for, a new person requires adjustments. Having to take someone else’s opinions into consideration when making decisions takes some serious getting used to. Did you realize that some people do not enjoy marathon DVR sessions of What Not to Wear and America’s Next Top Model? Who knew? And perhaps what they do enjoy is endless hours of Band of Brothers, Nova, and some seriously questionable film choices? Somehow, you have to figure out a way to maneuver these, and so many other, competing desires. For us, it’s Mythbusters and The Daily Show.

But, and here’s the really surprising thing, there are other things even bigger than television to consider. Before Jon and I got back together two years ago, I had never found myself content enough in a relationship to imagine spending my life with someone. Shit, the four years beforehand, the two people I dated both lived in LA while I was in San Francisco and the Bay Area because I liked having my space so much that I preferred needing to board an airplane to see the person over finding someone more geographically suitable. I had no desire to live with someone, let alone think about marrying them. Then this guy comes back into my life and shot that all to hell. Now, I can’t imagine being without him; sometimes it’s hard to remember what my life was like before he was here. It’s painful to remember the years I spent in miserable, unhealthy relationships for whatever reason I had myself convinced of at the time, now that I know what the real deal feels like. And so here we are; here I am in a partnership with someone who, for the very first time in my life, I trust completely (classic daddy issues, not the one from the wedding pics, he’s amazing. Bio dad, total ass, but whatever, that’s for another article). Trusting your partner is the foundation from which everything is built, and because of that, it is also one of the hardest things in the world to do.

We have amazing advice givers on this site, women I am proud to share the title of Staff Writers with in the hopes that their awesomeness will rub off on me, or that someone might mistakenly apply some of their fondness for them onto me. Yep, I have no problem riding other people’s internet coattails. The Frisky Feminist dishes the goods on getting better lovin’; Luci Furious adeptly responds to the wide array of what we throw at her; Ipomoea’s pregnancy posts are enlightening and calming for those of us (read: me) who are terrified of the process; Queen Julie’s student nursing posts are all at once informative, kinda icky, and ultimately incredibly more important than anything I can ramble on about, as well as the many other women that open my mind more every single day on this site. I can’t, and would never want or attempt to, compete with that. What I will do, however, is open up my life, my relationship, and all the ups and downs, the struggles and heartaches, as well as the intense joys, to you fabulous readers in the hopes that some of my mistakes and head-slapping ridiculousness can help you avoid, or at least better deal with, some of the same nonsense we all encounter along the way. I could really use someone to commiserate with about the sheets.

First up, next week- How To Fight Fair

11 replies on “The Bride Branches Out”

We have a different, weird sheet issue.

He only likes black sheets.

They make our bedroom (which is otherwise green and light and airy) feel heavy and dark. And – the cheap dye on his black sheets and pillowcases rubs off on the wall (since we don’t have a headboard).

I hate his black sheets but it’s like, a big deal for him. He hates all other sheets. He actually would like everything to be black – not because it’s a goth thing or whatever but because it’s, design-wise, very simple. Ugh. I’m like, “PLEASE CAN WE PUT SOME COLOR IN THIS CAVE.”

That is so weird. It makes me grateful that Mr.B lets me do all the decorating. He did tell me I had to stop re-painting rooms for a while, because I was making everyone crazy, but I get to renovate our hall bathroom so I’ll live. (He does not yet know that said renovations will require painting the walls after the new floor is in :) )

Oh god, I remember the black sheets. I finally broke Mr. MacIntosh of his black sheet habit after a year of newlywed action that required washing the sheets all the f’ing time, and that was in the laundromat days. “WHEN I WASH THE BLACK SHEETS AT THE LAUNDROMAT THEY ALL KNOW WHAT WE DID LAST NIGHT.”

I agree, that is weird! If they have to be black (weird, I say, weird), it’ll probably be worth getting good ones, so that you don’t have black dye on everything. Do you have a comforter on your bed? Is it black too? Otherwise, if the sheets are covered up, why do they have to be black? I find this so confusing.

My boyfriend is the same way. Has a serious wish for everything to be black. Thankfully, since I’m the one who changes the sheets we get my nice-feeling, super soft green sheets instead (I have a thing about sheets that feel good). He’s decided they do feel better than his–but now wants to buy black ones in this fabric!

I feel you on the sheet thing. After my first year of being a married person, I had developed a theory that if a couple is considering taking the plunge, they must first each clean the other’s bathroom. If you can do that and still love one and other, then there’s a good chance it will work.

I will happily commiserate with you about the culture shock of living with stinky boys who would rather watch truck shows than re-runs of Charlie’s Angels. The first year can be brutal, but I promise it does get better – and Mythbusters is a godsend in the great TV debate.

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