Nobody Gets Me Like You . . .

I have a pet-peeve.  Well, actually, I have many (don't we all) but one of them, is this phrase.  In case you haven't read my title, I'm referring to the uneducated, stupid, empty yet well embraced phrase in modern culture, "Nobody gets me like you."

Can we possibly find a more vague, adolescent description of romantic feelings towards one another?  I expect if one responded to this lovely term of endearment with, "well, what do you get about me?" one would find his or her date stuttering and lost with no idea what to say next, because that all-encompassing nothingness of a phrase was the best he or she had.  He/she doesn't really know anything about you except that he/she finds you attractive, and possibly feels comfortable around you.  Hence the "get me" part.  I assume that's what they mean, that they feel comfortable in the presence of said lover, therefore, he/she "gets me".  Gag me now.

While folding laundry I watched the last three episodes of the most recent season of The Bachelorette, where this lovely phrase was uttered between lovers, no exaggeration, over 60 times.

"He just gets me!"
"I love you, because you just really get me"
"No one has ever got me quite like you"
The variations continue in their pathetic monotony.

Don't get me started about that mockery of love tv show.  It feels like one long, awkward first date, except with many men, and in exotic places.  Oh, and of course, it ends with a proposal.  I don't think anyone honestly, truly, really believes that's how love works, or even resembles it.  Yet, so many women get sucked into that nonsense!!!  See, you got me started.  Well, while I'm at it . . . I have a few theories.  I will shamefully admit I am guilty of shedding a tear or two when I saw the proposal, or witnessed earlier poor Sean (2nd to last guy eliminated from Emily's love list) drive home with a devastated, deer in the headlights look of a truly heartbroken man.  I think women are drawn to this show not because they think it has any bearing on true love, but because it's entertaining in a way they can't explain.  I think I can though.  First of all, women need to feel wanted, and here's a show with one woman being desired by 25 men.  25 good looking, succesful, congenial men, who hope to marry her!  Add to that romantic locations, a little drama (admit it women, we all secretly love a little drama, anyone who denies that, is well, in denial!!!) and kisses and embraces from these beautiful men all fighting for her affection, and you have catnip for women.  This human catnip is neither real nor healthy though, my ladies.  I suggest you find something else to fill your time, although, yes, as I said, I too am guilty of losing three hours of my life to that last season.  "Lord, what fools these mortals be!" Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream.  Now if you really want to watch a true parody of love, that's the comedy for you.  I never get tired of that play!!! 

So- where was I?  Oh yes, trashing on the "Nobody gets me like you" phrase.  If you are a user, rest easy, there is still hope.  Buy a thesaurus, or better yet, book of Shakespearean sonnets!  There are numerous ways to describe true love and devotion in the English language!  You can learn to express yourself.  I believe in you!

Now that I've completely exhausted that tangent, to the point of this post.  I heard a song on the radio, and it totally "got me".  By that, of course I mean I instantly felt drawn to the lyrics and the sweet, touching description of the benefits of marriage over being single.  The song is called Woman Like You by Lee Brice.  It's of course, a country song.  No other genre seems to have mastered the art of beautifying the simple, sweet parts of life, with a mixture of acoustic guitars and a little southern twang.  As Trace Adkins put it so well, country songs are songs about me! 

"...it's songs about me,

and who I am.  

Songs about loving and living

and good hearted women

and family and God.

Yeah, they're all just 

songs about me"

You can see the video and hear that whole song here.  (The Trace Adkins song)  It's a great song, I love it.  


That's of course, why I fell in love with Lee Brice's song, Woman Like You.  It's about me!  It's about a wife who asked her husband that hypothetical question I think most women ask or at least wonder at some point.  

Where would you be today if you weren't married to me?  

Of course what she really means is, 

Are you happy with me, and do you regret getting married or miss being single?    

He answered her in sweetly rhyming verses all the great things he'd be doing, and how they still don't top what he now has with her.  This touches a particularly sensitive note with me, because my husband happens to have a very cool profession, and to the outside world it probably doesn't quite match up to being a family man.  Really, does it get much cooler than being a Special Ops Air Force pilot?  No, no it doesn't.  

He looks pretty darn suave in his green flight suit, combat boots, and Oakley sunglasses.  And yet this extraordinary man I married is happiest in a worn out t-shirt, pair of cargo shorts, flip flops, and rolling around on the floor with his kids.  If he were single he'd probably own a plane of his own, drive a cool new motorcycle, and have time to both ride it, and keep it maintained!  Right now his bike lays hopelessly unrepairable in our garage, with no time in the foreseeable future to fix it.  If he didn't have a family, he wouldn't feel so torn when he has to deploy so often,  he could watch as much college football as he wants, and probably join an adult amateur league of flag football or soccer, instead of coaching a team of five-year-old girls.  (No offense to Anny and the other Green Butterflies!)  

His life could be in the worldly sense, much, much cooler, and we both know it.  I probably know it a little too much, and like the pretty girl in the music video, I fish a little to get him to remind me he's happier now than he would be without poopy diapers, messy kitchens, toys to trip on, babies crying at night, putting up with a hormonal pregnant wife 3 times . . . oh and how the list goes on!  Yet family craziness aside, he's happy.  He wants exactly what he has!  He may not be able to compose a country song about it, but I'm not too bad at ryhming, so I made an attempt to write my own verses to that song, dedicated to the number one man in my life.  I'm crazy about you, and can't tell you what it means to me that you prefer us over what would be a very exciting life for a single man.  If you ever want to whisper in my ear your own reasons for those decisions, even if I think I already know them, well, let's just say I'd be ok with that.     

Here are my knock-off verses.  Not quite as smooth as Mr. Lee Brice, but I think they have their own personal charm.  

If he was still a single man he’d,

never have to drive a mini van,

He’d have more time for football games,

Eat more Rice-a-Roni and chicken wings.

He’d live somewhere with a water view,

time to fix a motorcycle or two. 

I know he’d own that dream airplane,

If I’d never known his name.

Going overseas wouldn’t be so tough,

No goodbyes makes it not so rough.

There’d be time to study for a masters degree,

Time for the gym, even time for sleep. 

Life would be simple and carefree,

Without a family, without me. 

Now that I’ve got your attention,

I suppose I forgot to mention,

I’m so happy he came my way,

I can never have too many days,

Watching him coach our daughter’s soccer team,

Pushing our kids on the back yard swings.

Though he does love Rice-a-Roni,

I know it’s no trade for being lonely.

Football games are way more fun,

While holding his sleeping newborn son.

Flying overseas is hard to do,

But it’s nice having someone to come home to.

There are things he gave up to be a husband and father,

We’ll probably never have that house on the water.

Time for motorcycles has come and gone,

When you spend all your Saturdays mowing the lawn.

Yet as soon as you’re home, your kids come running to see you,

We all just want to be near you. 

We’ll follow you to the middle of no-where,

It will be happy to us, as long you’ll be there.

This all, I’m sure, is nothing new,

We’re grateful, Daddy, we love you.    

Do Nothing Day

When my best friend comes back home, we're having one of these. A blissfully unproductive day. After I've put the kids to bed I should be catching up on the dishes, sweeping up my floor so my little crawler doesn't supplement his diet with whatever fun things he can find, or folding and sorting laundry. Too often I don't though. I get lost. I sit, sit, sit, sit, and daydream. Sometimes I think about things I need to do, or should have done, but more often than not, I lose myself thinking about the do nothing days I want to have.

I just want to sleep late with my sweetheart, and then when the kids drag us out of bed, we can spend the morning in our PJ's, making bacon and pancakes with lots of syrup and butter, or strawberry jam. Then spend the afternoon watching TV or football, eating chips with salsa, and cookies for lunch. Going for a slow walk around the neighborhood in the evening, then reading storybooks and playing board games till the kids are grumpy and sleepy. Staying up late cuddling, talking, laughing and slow dancing. Letting the dishes pile up in the sink, and toys sneak out of the playroom and spread around the house. Knowing the grass is higher than it should be outside, but letting it sit just for one more day. Using the ambitious to-do lists as coasters for cold frosty mugs of root beer, no answering the phones or responding to nagging emails. Just shutting out the world, hanging out as a family, and doing nothing except being together, making messes and memories.

I lose time at night, doing nothing, thinking about a do-nothing day. I think I need one. In fact, I think I'm due for a nice long string of them.

 

The Marrying Kind

While looking for some new tunes to add to my "happy music" playlist, (aka tunes that make me smile no matter my mood) I came across this country song by Kip Moore, Mary Was the Marrying Kind.  It's a sweet song, about how looking back, he's dated lots of girls, but the sweet girl next door, "the marrying kind" was what he really wanted all along.  His best friend beat him to the punch though.

It's supposed to be a sad song, about nostalgia and lost chances.  However I find this song sad for a different reason.  I cry not for the boy who realized a little too late what he was missing.  He had his chance, I don't mourn for him.  I think of Mary.  I know her well.  I too saw the Jennies, Beckies, and Tammies get lots of dates and attention, while I played the part of an unnoticed wallflower.  The boys didn't seem to appreciate that I was kind, thoughtful, and true to my church standards.  I did my best to doll up, buy pretty clothes, wear makeup, and be outgoing and friendly.  Still more often than not I found myself lonely on the weekends.  I remember once in a youth interview with my Bishop at church, crying about my dating woes.  He sweetly said I probably wasn't being asked out because I was "too perfect" and the boys were too intimidated to ask.  I smiled at his flattering response, but inwardly I laughed.  I knew better.  I wasn't being asked, because I was the kind of girl you marry, not the kind you date.  Boys just aren't interested in that at 16.  

Thankfully I was blessed with strict parents, who did not allow me to lower my standards a little, in order to make myself more appealing to the opposite sex.  I'll admit I was tempted.  Loneliness to a teenage girl is a curse worse than slow torture.  Questions like "what's wrong with me?" are not good on a delicate young heart.  Why is it the fate of the good girls to be lonely until they're of marrying age?

Thankfully that story ended well.  When I got to college (note that I went to a church school where there isn't the usual raucous binge drinking and partying) and dating was taken a little more seriously, I suddenly had plenty of attention.  Even the boys who shunned me in highschool, found I had something that interested them.  Let me tell you though, I had no interest in them!    

What continues to puzzle me is the "surprise" all boys becoming men have, when they discover those good girls all grown up, are suddenly very attractive.  I've heard it over and over from male family and friends, telling the story of the good little girl at home who went unnoticed in highschool, and to their great astonishment is amazing and desirable now!  Has it not occurred to them that it's not the girls who went through some over-night transformation, it's them?  These girls were always pretty, always sweet, always wonderful.  It's the boys who only recently realized they care about things like that.    

I blame both the boys, and their parents.  For some reason our boys are brought up to think their youth is for guilt free playing.  From the teenage years and up parents don't seem to care who their sons date, because they're too young to marry, so what does it matter?  Let them have their fun.  Even among the church boys, I saw a lesser but similar truth.  Do I even need to go on about how this is a stupid philosophy with damaging effects on both the boys and girls?  It's the reason good boys get into trouble, why girls are tempted to dress and act trashy in the first place, and why good girls who don't, cry dateless by the phone every weekend, thinking there's something wrong with them.  

Perhaps boys are just too dumb to recognize a good thing when they see it.  Or maybe they're that way because we expect so little from them.  With an iron fist parents tell their daughters who is safe to date, and who to stay away from.  Yet when a son shows up with a bleached blonde in a mini skirt and tight strapless top, do they sit him down and have a heart to heart about how she may not be the best choice?  More often than not parents, especially fathers, cheer!  They give him a manly pound on the back, a wink, and make some "good catch" comment.  Or even more pathetic, they'll disapprove, but shrug their shoulders and say, "boys will be boys" or "what can I do, I can't choose who my son wants to date!"
Yes you can!  Get a backbone moms and dads, and straighten your sons out while you still can.  We tell our girls, "date the kind of person you want to marry," why not say the same to the boys?
Why the double standard, especially among good, church going families?  Well it's time for a change!  I believe you can influence your sons, and train them to understand what is truly attractive.  As much as they may act like it, they aren't mindless baboons who can't be controlled or educated!  Starting with my own sons, I plan to teach them to seek out the good girls, not just the good-looking girls.  I expect them to look past their hormones, and ask themselves before they pick up that phone, "She's pretty, but what else do I know about her? Does she dress how I want my daughters to dress?  Is she someone I'd hope to run into again when I'm in college?" (Or someone who will even get in to college???) 

I expect they'll probably whine a little about this.  But like all good parents, I have foresight.  While they may not appreciate it then, I'm doing my boys a huge favor.  It's more than the fact that the good girls deserve to be asked out.  One day my boys will thank me.  I'm saving them from the fate Kip Moore is singing about.  In a few years when they see the real purpose of dating, they wont be crying, "Oh Mary, Mary, why was I so blind?" 

They'll thank me that I encouraged them to take out those sweet, angel faced good girls.  Because to the strange surprise of all the boys, those girls grow up to be exactly what they didn't know they've always wanted.  And those stunningly perfect good girls, will remember who was nice to them in high school.

To those good young girls out there, continue being the marrying kind.  It pays off.  No cute blue-eyed football player is worth lowering your standards for.  Marriage is infinitely better than the prom.  It might be hard, but you can stand being lonely for a few years until the good boys to come to their senses.  They will, and you'll be grateful you waited.  There's nothing wrong with you.  You are perfect and beautiful.  Your mother isn't lying when she tells you someday the perfect guy will notice that.  She knows, because she's been in your shoes too, and that might just be exactly how it worked out for her.