Monday, October 25, 2010

While You're Worried About My Shit...


I think it was Outkast that said it best:  "I know you like to think yo shit don't stink, but lean a lil' bit closer. See, roses really smell like boo boo-ooo!!!!"

What do a rose and a pile of dog poop, for example, have in common? They eventually dry up and the smell fades. But just like that rose, that pile of crap is still there. And like that rose, that crap is still yours.

Sometimes, relationships aren't just about who makes you feel good about yourself. Relationships aren't  always about who's considerate of your feelings and whether they take an interest in the things you enjoy. Of course, that stuff's fantastic. But sometimes, we must consider whether or not we can tolerate someone's "personal pile of poop." And can we tolerate it for a lifetime if we're considering marriage?

Everyone comes with a PPP ("personal pile of poop") and it can be just about anything:
  • a messy ex-wife or jealous ex-husband -- neither of whom are ready to let YOU go 
  • horribly spoiled and bratty children who get every toy they point at thanks to their guilt-ridden divorced parents (ask any single person who's dated a divorced parent...they'll back me up!)
  • ruined credit because you ran through money like water in your 20s
  • atrocious housekeeping skills even though your momma made you clean up EVERY Saturday and dared you not to be done before Soul Train came on
  • burping, farting and booger-picking openly and proudly (and you're a jerk if you wipe it on the furniture)
  • cussing like you've got Tourette's Syndrome
  • a bad, childish temper
  • a bankruptcy or foreclosure or even BOTH
  • body image issues
  • multiple marriages/divorces (to and from the same person -- YIKES!!!)
Okay, so you get the point. Everyone's got a personal pile of crap -- and I haven't even touched on people who are functioning with hidden addictions to crack and alcohol. But let's move on.

The bottom line is, we've all got a crap (read: "baggage") in our lives. I started to see it in the men I was dating. And baby, let me tell you I got to be an expert at spotting a man's baggage. I could tell you which man was intimidated by my career and I could tell you which man was a mama's boy. I could sniff out the men who were around strictly for the punany and I ran from the men who I could see were needy. And I was worse with my girlfriends' men.

"Leave him. He's trying to use up your money," I'd warn one friend.
"Girl, you'd better drop him. He's got another chick on the side," I'd warn another.
"Uh-uh! He's got future child predator written all over his face. Run girl!" I'd advise yet another friend.

Then one day, in the middle of all my so-called diagnoses I got a "whiff" of something unexpected.

I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but let me assure you it didn't smell like a rose! Baby, I was smelling my very own personal pile of crap! It was like someone came through and watered that rose and accidentally re-hydrated that crap down there at my feet I'd been ignoring all those years.

Let me put it in terms some of you with more delicate palates can appreciate: In the New International Version of the Bible, Matthew 7:5 says, "You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye."


And it occurred to me that what all this really boiled down to is that I wasn't being honest WITH myself ABOUT myself. I wasn't being truthful about my mood swings or my hyper-critical nature , always correcting someone's speech or spelling. (I'm a Virgo. It's what we do. Don't judge me!) Sure, I'd spent 13 years as a career journalist, but not everyone I met signed up to be edited 24/7. I mean, who does that? (Clearly, I did and it didn't win me any congeniality awards.)

Back in the day, I wasn't honest about how unhappy I was at work, or how much I was grieving the loss of my deceased father and taking it out on other people. Real talk...I was only 26 years old when my boss pulled me aside and told me that while the staff extended their condolences for the loss of my father, I was about to get FIRED if I didn't stop taking my frustrations out on them!

The bottom line is, I was building up a pretty big pile of shiggidy right at my own feet. And sometimes, it acts like quicksand. We're stepping all up and through it, but once that stuff's on your shoe, everyone you walk past can smell it.

There really is no solution to this one, because what I'm really saying here is we all come with baggage. For some of us, it's size of a small carry-on bag. And, for a special few, there's a full 8-piece set of Louis Vuitton luggage -- exclusive crap!!!

I suppose I could say something poetic like manure fertilizes roses and helps them to bloom into the lovely flowers they are. THAT'S BULL!!! I'm talking about acknowledging your own crap and doing something about it so that you're a more pleasant person to live with, to BE with. Likewise, just accept that I come with some flaws, and I'll accept yours a lot easier, too. But the moment you start that finger pointing, you kill the relationship. None of us are ever perfect...and I never want to be.

In the end, before you start pointing at me, I suggest you stop and sniff ya own shiggidy and make sure you're not spreading around too much of your own personal pile of crap.

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