While everyone else was updating their Facebook about Shark Week, I was counting the days until Mob Week would end. After the rest of his species, Mr. Possibility, the late-bloomer discovered The Godfather. And all of its sequels. Over and over again for seven days.
He wasn’t doing anything wrong per se – he was acting like any other dude acts when in the presence of Al Pacino. You know – repeating quotes, analyzing the dynamics of the mob, asking me what I thought about “mob wives” and in almost every conversation we had with anyone else, The Godfather or the mob would ultimately come up. While The Godfather ban wagon passed a while ago, Mr. Possibility apparently just got on and now realizes why so many teenage, college-aged and middle-aged bachelors have posters on their wall.
I realize that by deciding to spend the night at his place, in his space, with his television, I’m subject to watch whatever he wishes. If I would have asked, I’m sure he would have changed the channel – but I never requested the favor. Though I’ve seen the movie(s) several times due to my father’s taste for the films, I found other ways to preoccupy myself while he sat mesmerized at the television. I even entertained conversations and made mob jokes with him, attempting to participate in something he found that he liked. But all of that went out the window yesterday when we laid around after a long night out celebrating my recent success, watching The Godfather…
…for four hours. Foooour.
In this time, I managed to clear out my email, do a load of my own laundry, take a shower, fix lunch, go for coffee, tidy up a bit, and write a blog or two. He did a few things, but mainly remained glued to the television. There was some snuggling and some talking, but when it came time to leave to make a party in the Hamptons for his friend, it was suddenly important that we rush out the door. However, I needed to drop by my own apartment before heading away for the evening. This was fine with Mr. P until we hit traffic on the bridge and he said, “Well, you had all day long to go home, why did you wait until now? We’re never going to get there on time.”
I’m usually pretty calm tempered, easy to get along with – but this comment brought out the sassy in me. “Didn’t you ask me to stay over today? To hang out with you during the day before going out?” I calmly asked. He nodded, rolling his eyes at the cluster of automobiles in front of us. “And didn’t I offer to go home and get things while you relaxed?” He sighed and nodded again. “And didn’t you ask me not to?” He looked at me, obviously annoyed. “And didn’t we watch The Godfather for the 100th time this week?” “It hasn’t been 100 times! It was on today, so we watched it. You watched it too.”
I think you can probably guess where this conversation went.
After he realized I was right and properly apologized, I thought how relationships are all about the great compromise. They’re about developing a deeper understanding for someone else. They require at least a form of unconditional love and to work, you need to trust and nurture one another. They’re about learning to forgive and being there as a supportive force for your partner in the good times and in the bad. In sickness and in health, in every last stinking situation, no matter how much you’d like to smack them across the face, stomp all over their things, slam the door, and throw in the towel. Or throw something forcefully at them while driving down the Long Island Expressway.
Relationships sound fine and dandy from the outside, but on the inside they sometimes require a lot of work. And the ability to be patient with someone who can infuriate you easily. Maybe it’s that thin line between love and hate, or the difficult task of being mature enough to keep a level head when someone you care about has moments of insincerity. We all have them, we’re all human, so why do we expect our lovers to be perfect? Arguments happen, differences are important to compatibility, and if you have the ability to overcome the tiffs, then your relationship has a chance. Especially if you can forgive someone for making themselves late because of a silly movie and then blaming you for having needs, too.
He made up for it today though – sweetly changing the channel to a Sex & the City marathon, handing me a glass or orange juice, and asking me what the hell Carrie was wearing.