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Tuesday, 12 December 2006 18:57 |
| The Advice Goddess
Amy Alkon |
Iëm 26; my boyfriend is 32. He called me "a woman about to bloom," and said he wants to be there to help. He started by pushing me to move out of my motherës house after my situation there became unbearable. I dreaded leaving my comfort zone, but now Iëm thrilled to have my own place. Heës also urging me to move up the ranks at work by dressing the part, being punctual, and wearing makeup. His exact words: "You will wear makeup." No, I donët dress as nicely as I could, and Iëm really makeup-free out of laziness, but I was in jeans, an old shirt and no makeup when we met. Lately, even if weëre going to the mall, he expects me to look nicer. Sometimes I feel like a child being told what to do. When I overslept and was late to work yesterday, he said, "This is not acceptable." Granted, heës successful, works hard and is never late. Some of my friends think heës controlling, and others think heës pushing me to be my best. Which is it? He says he loves me for who I am, and then tells me to change.
ÇƒÓ A Little Confused
You
arenët the only one whoës confused. Does your boyfriend often seem
unsure whether to take you to dinner or to the dog park so you can
scramble after an old tennis ball and maybe sniff some Yorkshire
terrier butt? Set the guy straight: Youëll take advice, upon request ǃÓ
not orders. Youëre his girlfriend, not his cocker spaniel.
Okay, heës
older, seems to know a few things, and hasnët been late since he
emerged from the womb. And you? In the words he mustëve borrowed from
some ad exec on the pantiliner account, youëre just "a woman about to
bloom." He probably means well, but have you ever known a plant to
flower because somebodyës standing over it and yelling at it?
Donët be too
quick to assume that his South American dictator approach to
life-coaching comes from feeling personally together and secure.
Chances are, beneath that titanium super-executive shell of his,
thereës a tiny, sweaty man living in terror of spontaneity,
uncertainty, and disorder. Avoiding those fears turns a guy into a
control freak ÇƒÓ staving off his anxiety by micromanaging you from head
to toenail polish, all the while insisting he loves you just the way
you are.
That said, can
you really argue with being on time and looking spiffy for work? Well,
unlikely as it is that your boss will base her next round of promotions
on which employees arrive latest and most undergroomed . . . maybe your
boyfriendës ambition is not your ambition. Figure out who you are and
what you want, and maybe itëll coincide with what he thinks is best for
you. Or, maybe youëll choose to take your chances that, say, avoiding
what I call "The Purina Lifestyle" (cat-food casseroles in your 80s)
wonët hinge on whether you have the energy to apply eyeliner on
Wednesday.
As for dressing
up to please your boyfriend, what does dressing up mean to you? Is it
no big deal, just a little thing you do to make him happy? Or is it
what camping is to me, as somebody who sees "getting close to nature"
as walking down a city sidewalk where thereës grass growing up between
the cracks? I can love a man to pieces, but if Iëm cold, dirty and
being chased by a bear . . . suddenly, it will all become clear: Love
is not the answer, a four-star hotel room with pulsating shower heads
is the answer.
Guided mistletoe
My girlfriend
asked me to her familyës Christmas dinner. Weëve only been dating two
months, and this speaks of commitment to me. Plus, Iëm afraid Iëll feel
like Iëm under a microscope. Is this too soon or no big deal?
ÇƒÓ Holiday Retreat
Maybe sheës
picturing you as the groom ÇƒÓ trussed up like a roasted pig, with an
apple in your mouth and a sign hanging from your tail that reads, "Just
about married!"
Then again,
maybe sheës just picturing the gloom: you alone on Christmas Eve with a
six-pack and a frozen pizza. So, what kind of man goes with his
girlfriend to Christmas dinner? Um, one whoës hungry?
Sure, itës
possible somebody will read more into your presence. If drunk Uncle
George asks, "So, love bunnies, what are your plans for the future?"
feel free to reset his agenda with "Well, I believe weëre going to the
movies Thursday night." What matters most is whether you can stop
seeing Christmas dinner as the relationship equivalent of a "gateway
drug."
Just as one puff
of a joint is unlikely to turn you into a toothless crack addict, a
second helping of yams probably wonët cause you to wake up divorced,
broke and living in your car.
ï
Got a problem?
Write Amy Alkon, 171 Pier Ave, No. 280, Santa Monica, CA 90405, or
e-mail AdviceAmy-at-aol.com (www.advicegoddess.com).
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