The condescending younger woman

Since my return to life as a full time student, I have encountered the Condescending Younger Woman with increasing regularity. No, this is not a sub-species of medical student - she exists beyond the cloistered walls. My question is: what is it about me?

The condescending, motherly type younger woman is at least five years younger than me, may call me 'love', chides me and gives me unasked for advice on how to conduct my life, tells me I'm ' so cute' (in a way that suggests I'm a little simple too) and dismisses any reference to my former life as a fully functioning member of society.

A few examples include:

- Someone explaining to me how PAYG income tax works with reference to her part-time job. I indicated I knew what she was talking about early in the piece, then at the end of her lecture I explained I have also paid tax, so much so I even paid my HECS debt off. She smiled with a "that's nice dear" kind of tilt to the head and then said "I guess that's why you go to university, so YOU can get a job!"

- I made some savoury snacks for CBL and a girl commented "Aren't you the little gourmand!" in a baby voice while leaning down over me. ( I was seated).

- I was asked if I were seeing anyone in Perth. I said yes. Somehow I ended up mentioning how uncomfortable I am that the Man in question pays for much of our social activities. I said it didn't sit well with my sense of independence and feminist ethos. She laughed. Hard. She said feminism doesn't belong in relationships and I was lucky to have someone to take care of me.

Okay, I don't know if these examples don't convey the condescending element in text... but if you could see the gentle "that's nice dear" smiles and hear the tone of voice, you would get it. But why?! Why am I getting this and why now?

The catch

You knew there'd be a catch, didn't you? Of course there would be, and there is.

We had a 'talk' the other day. I hated the idea of a 'talk' even before I knew what it was about. I've seen no need for a 'talk' and this -us- we've only been so for a short time. Too early for 'talks'. He told me gently: in the past couple of months he's been applying for jobs in all sorts of places, but only one or two in this here city.

They were organising the Christmas party at his work. His is a company that sends you to a luxurious holiday destination and puts you up in a resort. He didn't RSVP the invite, thinking he probably won't be around.

Still... nothing is definite and... well, nothing imminent - just yet. But... I don't know how I feel. My instinct was to drop everything. Push him away. Forget it, because the longer we linger the harder the end will be. But I talked myself into some sort of reason: enjoy the present. Don't over think things. And really, I can measure our relationship in weeks, not even months and it seems stupid to even feel the way I have over the past week. What do I want anyway? I'm not counting on white dresses or babies and McMansions in far away suburbs. But I'm disappointed still. I just... I don't know. I'll find words soon.

Things are otherwise great. Except now I have this annoying anxiety ruining everything.

Let's pretend

I wonder when med students go to the doctor do they use correct terminology? Where is the line of wankiness? And at what point do these latin words and awkward descriptions become natural - and not like you're play acting?

I don't really count myself as a med student (hmm, some bizarro inferiority complex or perhaps just a hunch about my mid year exam performance) - but in any case, I left my medical language at home when I went to the doctor the other day.

My right foot has been hurting to the point of making walking - my primary means of transport- very difficult. And when I was at the doctor I was sure I sounded stupid describing my problem that less than six months ago I would have only known how, but also worried that if I used correct terminology he might have thought I at least knew something. Which I don't. 

And anyway, those strange new words still sound like a foreign language to me. I'm much more comfortable with a mixture of vague thingys and hand waving to get my point across. Because I'm articulate like that.

I did go through SOCRATES questions unprompted though... but I did so in a casual, conversational way so as not to give any clues that I was actually revising for my exam as I was describing my symptoms. I think I got a way with it.

Anyway, turns out I have flat feet.

The unbearable lightness of being

I really like my physiology lecturer. He's very passionate about physiology in a loveable, mad scientist kind of way. He dances around the lecture as he speaks and his words tumble out at speed as his excitement builds.

We're at the tail end of our neuro block and in the last 15 minutes of today's lecture he asked us: Who really is in control? Who are we? Where does our sense of self come from? Can we be held responsible for our actions? Who is culpible?

I loved it. Existentialism med-school style.

I don't know myself

As anticipated, a post-hormonal semblance of sanity has returned and things aren’t THAT bad. Hey, they might even be good.

Doesn’t mean I’m entirely comfortable with this very real prospect of a relationship, but I’m going to try my best not to fight it.

The healthy scepticism I’ve developed toward all things couple-ish is making this transition a little difficult. Case in point: We went to the gym together yesterday. Attending the gym as a couple makes me cringe. Really - can you please just leave that mushy togetherness at home? I’ve got some serious sweating to do.

To make matters worse, we met up wearing semi-matching 80s retro adidas gear! Semi-matching?! I just want to slap myself. Please note, there was no prior planning put into these outfits, but oh my... Go Team Adidas!

I'm having an out of body experience where I'm "normal" me spinning on a bike watching this strange, new two headed adidas beast me smuggly stroll through the gym entrance with a *matching* man in tow... and normal me is rolling her eyes and smirking/ vomitting at the stupid couple and envisaging their future in leisure suits and catered for bus tours around the sites of Western Europe. Because that is the fate of couples who wear MATCHING CLOTHES. Shit.

And then despite myself, I bought him a gift. Buying gifts for new partners surely places me in some uncomfortable category of “too fast, too soon” girl - and gees, I really hesitated over the purchase of the gift. I knew it was something he really wanted, had been searching for - was there a way I could sneak it through as a “not a gift” gift? Meh, I just gave it to him in the end - and what was it?

Connect Four, of course!

We’ve been playing some seriously competitive games down at a Cafe around the corner from him. But the coffee is shit. And they don’t have enough pieces. Soooo, Connect Four at home means there’s no end to the competition - AND we can couple the game with wine. Win : Win.

And gift giving is fine, really - when a few times now he’s sent me home with leftovers so I don’t have to cook while I’m studying. Surely someone who does that for you deserves a gift? Yep.

Anyway, best get back to study if I’m going to justify dinner at his place tonight. He’s cooking a lamb roast.

Regrets for tomorrow

In the little bit more than six months that the man-of-sorts from Canberra and I were a couple, I noticed a pattern in my behaviour. For maybe two days out of roughly 28, I’d feel a surge of anxiety and I’d invariably find myself baiting the man-of-sorts for a fight.

I noted this pattern, but never got so far as changing it. The thing is - in those heady 48 hours, any reason in matters of the heart seem far beyond me. Yes, I can still add, subtract, perform complex tasks and be a normal, functioning member of society AND am generally my normal, lovely self to everyone BUT that one special someone. And changing that pattern is so hard when just acknowledging it when you’re in the heat of that moment is no easy task.

It wasn’t as if I completely manufactured the targets of my anxiety either; rather I would just give them undue significance. Perspective would go out the window. Whatever it was that I was upset about was urgent, was desperate, was of the utmost importance and must be addressed NOW.

In the cold light of the next day, I wouldn’t know what all the fuss had been about and would feel a bit more than embarrassed of my drama queen antics. Still, it doesn’t mean I should dismiss whatever I was upset about. Often I would be expressing that very important something I was too reserved to raise for the other 26 days - kind of like a depressed drunk bringing up their life’s woes after a few... but perhaps the keys to good communication are a calm head and attentive listening - things I’m not good at when I’m in the throws of PMS. 

I remind myself of that experience now and try to reason my way through the surge of emotions clouding my thought processes right now... Because - you see - I returned last night from the most wonderful weekend away with someone quite special and rather than enjoy the moment and savour the excitement, I’m a funny mess of worry. And it’s not that these things should be dismissed, it’s just I should try and get a handle on them, bring some perspective... and wait it out a day or two.

The weekend was great, not just for four days of escape - but for the time spent and easy togetherness we fell into. It rained all weekend. I’ve never seen so much rain before; but for the windows of clear sky we found to venture into the great out doors we spent most of our time enjoying the view from warm interiors.

It was all good.

And.

I don’t know...

Terrifying?

My mind is leaping a head here to sometime down the track and I find myself in a Long Term Relationship. And what does that make me feel? Panic. Panic - like I know the day and hour of my dying. Which is ridiculous, right?

But I picture myself just a few years past, and I’m lying in bed next to my husband. My body is curled away from him and I’m trying my best to stifle my tears, but he knows I’m crying despite my best efforts. And he turns to me - frustrated - and wants to know What. Is. The. Matter?!?! I don’t know. I can’t answer. But I do know there in that bed, in the house, next to my husband how very, very alone I felt.

Loneliness like a trap. Loneliness like every surface in the house was dressed in a thick felt that would muffle the sounds and feel of things and envelop you and engulf you so that you were trapped in some comfortable, fuzzy, hazy loneliness.

Once I tested myself to see how I’d feel if I lost him. The response I wanted to feel was distress, was the anguish of losing someone you love; but I was angry with myself to find I felt a kind of hope. Or maybe relief.

And I know that’s not what love is, and relationships aren’t a kind of death, but... That’s my fear.

I think of the twisting path things have taken over the last couple of years, and - I don’t know if this makes sense - but I feel a kind of pride. Everything that has happened - and much has - I managed and I got through and I had a good time.

After he left, I remember that aimless, floating feeling of being free - and how frightening it was. For the years before, I’d got caught up in being prematurely grown up and serious and married and everything I saw ahead was to do with “us” and him to the point where I had no idea what I wanted or how I’d got where I was. I thought I knew what the future held, however claustraphobic and unhappy.

I was going to write that I’ve learnt to deal with and embrace that floating feeling of freedom and uncertainty... but perhaps not. If I had, I would take the idea of trusting someone else, of being with someone that actually really matters to me all in my stride. I would just let things be.

...Which is probably what I’ll think in the morning.

Sweet nothings

He phoned because he was in my neighbourhood for a meeting. Could I meet him quickly before he caught his taxi? Okay. I put on my coat and found him down the street.

He had bought me an almond croissant, gave me a long kiss and had to go. He looks very handsome in his beautiful suits and scarves and boots, and he looks very handsome when he's serious and distracted and busy - and with almond croissant in hand.

We're driving down south this weekend to a place with prehistoric trees and a wild coast line. I'm not taking books or my computer or anything to remind me of anything I should or could be doing. It will be raining and it will be green and blue and grey. There will be wine and cheese and wintery comfort foods. And there will be long kisses and warm embraces to fall into.