The other day, GR kindly told me that I need to quit trying to be “the man” in our relationship. He said that he’s tired of being dragged around town by his ponytail (wha?) without being asked or consulted with first. So my first question is, is that what a man does? Drag his woman around town by her ponytail? I have no idea what he’s talking about, mainly because I do not live in, near, or around a cave, build fire with sticks, grunt excessively, or understand caveman-speak.
However, if by “the man” GR means “the one who maketh the plans,” then yes, I am “the planner” in our relationship. GR is the hunter, gatherer, complainer, worrier, pest, and whatnot, and I am the planner of all things fun. I live to plan. That is my unofficial job in life. You got something that needs to be planned? Come to Lulu. She will happily plan it for you.
And should there not be at least one control freak planner in every relationship? Otherwise, god forbid, things would not get planned. It makes me nervous to think about it. So, in that vein, there has been a slight change in our Germany plans. Basically, GR has changed his mind about going. Let me repeat—GR has jumped ship. I know!
First and foremost, GR is suddenly a nervous bundle of unnatural worry and anxiety about leaving the house and dogs for 10 whole days. Gasp. Remember a very, very long time ago when I told you it was a chore to get GR to cross the county line? That’s count-y, not count-ry. Well, I was not kidding, y’all.
But it’s not like I up and planned this trip all on my own without consulting GR. I’m not that much of a control freak! Yet somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that this would happen. Somehow, someway, I knew that GR’s anxiety would take over and he would conveniently forget that he had a small part in planning this trip (um, like agreeing to it), and then snap like a frozen fish stick accusing me of being “the man.” Do you also remember a very, very long time ago when I told you that GR is wishy-washy? Yep. He most often snaps. Like a frozen fish stick.
So, bad news as it may be, I forgive the man. He can’t help that he has anxiety issues (take a pill already!) and thinks that he’s the woman in our relationship. I totally love him for it. Really, I do! And because he loves me so much, he’s “allowing” me (I hate using that word, because it’s not exactly allowing…it’s more like giving his blessing? Whatev.) to go on this trip without him. But I won’t be going alone. Oh no, people. I’ve coerced a tall, dark Italian man my best friend from high school into going with me!! Woo-hoo! The Hofbräuhaus will never be the same now! More on that later.
Okay, so I’m sure that you’re all thinking—hmm, GR is putting Lulu’s controlling, plan-happy ass on a plane to the other side of the world to get rid of her. And maybe that’s a tiny part of it, but in all seriousness, he feels incredibly guilty that he’s not going with me on what we (I?) planned to be our 15-year anniversary trip. Right, GR? Lucky for him, I am not an incredibly sentimental gal. And actually, our anniversary falls over Labor Day weekend when we’ll be at the beach in Destin, so we’ll be together then.
So never fear, people…all is well in the House of Lulu. If you need me, you can find me over in the corner of my cave grunting and rubbing sticks together. And making plans…