Do you ever feel like a weirdo?
Cause yaknow. I do. Totally. Often. A lot of the times. Ain’t no one gonna contest that either, I know. Pretty much anyone reading this blog already knows I’m a total basket case. Nuts. Cuckoo.
‘Een tik van de molen gehad’ – is how they say it in Dutch (which pretty much comes down to being Don Quichoted by a windmill. Banged on the head a bit too hard.). And honestly – my weirdness AND awareness of said fact, I’d say, is totally one of my redeeming qualities. I’ve fully embraced the weird. Maybe a bit too much, sometimes, but eh, can’t have it all!
What brought on this confession of being crazy, you might ask next.
Well. As you all know I’m in the sweet first stages of a new relationship and as you all also know – that’s when you first start hitting the points where you can no longer hide all of the quirks you have. Because once you’re past that polished up, being on your best behavior, shiny sort of shell of you that you tend to show on first (and a couple of next) dates – the weird starts seeping through. At least, that’s how it works with me. And yesterday…I was confronted with some of my extra-ordinary behavior, as we were having dinner.
I’m not saying that I hide parts of me on dates, perse. That’s not what I do. I feel like I’m pretty open and honest about the whole package of crazy someone’s getting when they decide to go for someone like me. I don’t really HIDE the weird. Truly. There’s too much of it to hide, anyway.
But once you start spending longer amounts of time together. Once you see each other often enough to be able to actually discern patterns. And especially: once you get close enough to actually dare ask why some things are being done or happening – that’s when your quirks become a thing. And I have many of them that I will be seeing myself explain to my new lover. Poor sod.
So yesterday we ordered in food. Because we’re (and I love this man to bits for it) both lazy fucks that figured spending the day in bed was a better option than actually getting up and doing groceries for cooking purposes. And as we were scrolling the app to decide on which one of the only three identical restaurants would have the honor of our order that day – I spotted that they had Fernandes (the drink) at one of them. Order up!
Eventually the food is delivered, right? And I’d ordered myself one red grape Fernandes, and a green punch one. Because they had 4 of the flavors and these two I just had to have. Loverboy, having never had Fernandes, had the honor of getting to taste my red grape drink to establish just how chemically enhanced, unbelievably sugary and deliciously bad that drink tasted. Only to hear me explain how the green one is even more awesome and yummy.
Yes. I ordered two drinks. For myself. In two different flavors. One of which I vastly like more than the other.
‘Why not order two green ones then?!’
It was only when I started to explain myself to him that I realized I’m a total weirdo. I ordered the two different ones because I really like the red grape Fernandes. I do. If you serve me red grape, I iz happy. But I love the green punch one even more. It’s awesome. If they’re both on offer, I’ll have green. But if there’s only red – I’m still a happy camper. But I ordered them both because of the simple fact that I could start with the red, which I like, and then drink that in the knowledge that I’d have an even better drink waiting for me.
This is how my brain works. It requires context to fully reach its capacity to dole out appreciation. The fact that I started with a lesser option, only to end up with the better – makes me appreciate the green one ALL THE MORE. By reminding myself how much better it is than the red one, by having both, I love green with a much higher intensity.
If I’d only ordered two green cans of soda – I’d not have loved the taste as much. I would’ve taken it for granted. I would’ve had two drink but never had that ‘OMG GREEN PUNCH’ moment. Which is awesome to have, so worth ordering red grape for.
Same goes for sex, I found myself explaining to loverboy, after my unsatisfactory explanation of the red-green conundrum. You can have ALL of the amazeballs sex all day every day. But that will quickly become normal. Lose its shine. Fade in its epicness. Such a shame.
Which, in my eyes, is why quickies exist. Not only are they a speedy top-up of neediness. No. They also provide the context in which it becomes easier to appreciate the awesomeness of full-blown shabangchickabowwow nights. You’ll find yourself sighing contentedly after a quickie, going ‘this was great.’ And then think ahead to the next time you’ll REALLY take your time for it and blow some brains out. Instant appreciation boost! BAM.
And it goes for the entirety of life, you know. They have boatloads of sayings on adversity and appreciation for exactly that reason. People who have REALLY suffered usually have the brightest outlooks on life. Those who have it hard, find strength and happiness in even the littlest things. Because their adversity offers them context. Because their hardships show them how the goodness in their life should be appreciated.
But instead of seeing myself suffering through more drama’s and hurt – I just order two drinks. It’s a much easier way to teach myself appreciation.
Do you ever feel like a weirdo?