Will You Accept This Rose?

By: Allison Norris

I’m watching The Bachelor on abc. Of course I am. It’s what stay-at-home-moms do, right? Watch young women throw themselves at a short guy with an “interesting” accent (is it Texan, or Dork? I can’t be sure). It’s what I wait all week for. I scream at my television and comment on the terrible decision making that went into a bathing suit choice or how bad her hair looks with curls.

“Nice baby talk… she doesn’t really talk that way, I know it.”

“Who does this girl think she is? Why is she telling him that she LOVES him? She doesn’t even know him, and he’s wearing grandpa shorts!”

“You are dancing? No. That’s called the 8th grade hump-grind.”

My neighbors must think that I am terrible, as I scream such horrible things about people that I do not know. I hope they can’t hear me.

It’s a fascination with love that I have and being able to watch it on tv is like a car wreck that you can’t take your eyes off of, no matter how gruesome it is. How does it work? Will it last? I watch the show and think about how much I didn’t know about real love prior to having Baylor. Putting every bit of energy I have into another human being – my needs are met last, if at all. Can someone find that in another adult? The desire to completely give, and care for someone seems impossible – especially when you have a child.

I look at these young women on this show kissing in a penthouse suite with a private pool off of the patio. Of course they are in love! I want to rub some poopy diaper on their shirt and then leave a little pureed banana in their hair to find totally hardened 3 hours later. I want them to smack their head on the side of the car because their leg gave out while hoisting up the car seat on the side of the car to open the door.

Do they ask this bachelor character if he leaves yogurt containers out when he’s done eating out of them? Does he pick up his underwear off of the floor? Does he pee in the shower? I’d like to know! I guess I am wondering how many peeves make up one big deal breaker. Do we reach a point where we stop being so picky and accept the little things that bug us because we are looking for a partnership, and realize that we aren’t exactly perfect either? It’s sort of like signing up for someone whose annoying habits bug you the least.

I think about the things that I will teach Baylor to make him… well… perfect. Napkin on his lap and waiting until everyone is seated to take the first bite. Details that will help him at his first dinner with future in-laws. But are there things programmed into him that I will have no control over?

Control. I remember that… I think I used to have it. Now, I get a thrill about what temperature the dryer is set to – it’s all my decision. It’s like I am God of Laundry. Nobody will tell me what setting to put it on! See, I am totally in control.

Relationship books and couples therapy can try to close the communication and expectation gap between couples, but it may be a whole lot easier to accept that nobody is perfect – not even on a tropical island with a camera crew filming you frolicking in the surf, awaiting your “final rose”.

[photo credit: Flickr- Vancityallie]