This story involves a Boy — but, happily, Boy is not
the problem. Mom is the problem. Fasten your seatbelt;
this will be a long one.

Boy and I met in April ’03 and got serious fairly
early; we’ve been engaged since February ’04 and
living together since a month after that. I live
several states away from my hometown (and have since
college), so while my parents have met Boy a few times
(at holidays and such), they don’t know him that well.

Boy’s family is quite a bit different from mine. I
won’t go through the whole hoo-ha and delineate every
single difference, but suffice to say that mine is
middle to upper-middle class, mostly Catholic,
Northern/Midwestern, and fairly reserved, whereas his
is working-class, nominally Baptist, Southern rural,
and more boisterous.

Our differences do cause clashes sometimes, but Boy
and I are dealing with them as best we can, and when
we’re by ourselves or when I’m with his family it’s
not a huge deal. But it’s a different story with my
parents.

(I say “my parents,” but here, as in most areas of my
life, “my parents” mostly means Mom, as she is
decidedly the dominant parent. My relationship with
her is complicated — she tends to be controlling, and
I am always trying to resist that while still seeking
her approval — but on the surface we get along.)

From the beginning, Mom has had issues with Boy.
(Short list: agnostic, no higher education, manual
job, scary family health history. The first three,
okay, I concede, they’re hurdles, but the last is
where things get nutty. What was I supposed to do,
demand a health history and a blood test before every
first date?)

She hasn’t exactly kept her feelings to herself,
either. When I called to tell her we’d gotten engaged,
her reaction was pretty much “Oh,” in the tone you
would expect if I had told her I was moving to
Siberia. Sort of “I know you think this is a good
idea, so I’m trying to keep from discouraging you.”
Except she’s not really trying to keep from
discouraging me.

She has also mentioned to me that she’s afraid I’m too
desperate to be in a relationship — meaning, of
course, that I couldn’t possibly love Boy and am
merely with him because he will save me from the fate
of being Single At Thirty. Yes, clearly I must be
desperate if I choose to be with someone who is funny,
challenging, calming, comforting, smart and inspiring.

Anyway, we’ve dallied for a while, and now it’s time
to get down to brass tacks about the wedding, which is…not enjoyable. Boy and I have extremely limited
funds and could only afford a very modest, very small
wedding on our own. I finally broached the subject
with my parents over the summer (after being engaged
for 18 months, mind you — they hadn’t said word one
about it, and I’d been too scared to bring it up) and
they sort of half-implied that maybe they would
contribute some undetermined amount toward a splashier
(but still modest) wedding. Nice to have it settled,
eh?

Except, not. I gave them all kinds of information on
ideas I’d had, and met brick walls at almost every
turn. The event that sort of crystalized things for me
was when she put up resistance to having the wedding
in the town where Boy and I live (and where his family
is). She wanted us to be married in my hometown. I
have no objection to this in principle — but a) I
don’t want to be planning a wedding long-distance; b)
I don’t trust her to do the kind of legwork I would
need her to do; and c) most importantly, none of Boy’s
family could afford the trip. (For her part, Mom
thinks this is a good thing. She feels very
uncomfortable around the members of Boy’s family that
she’s met, and she doesn’t relish the idea of meeting
the rest. So clearly, the thing to do is to engineer
it so they can’t come.)

After much discussion with Boy, I emailed my parents
and said, basically, “We’ve talked about it and we
feel really strongly that the wedding has to be here.”
I got no response from them for nearly three weeks —
and we usually talk once a week. Finally I gave in and
called them. When I brought up the wedding, Mom
sounded very put out and said, “Well, I guess if you
want it there, that’s where it’s going to be,” in a
very “It’s your funeral” tone. That was at least two
months ago, and I haven’t talked to them about the
wedding since — I don’t have the energy.

Basically, all planning is on hold. The idea of going
any further in putting together a wedding — even the
small one that we could afford — doesn’t make me
happy anymore. It makes me tired. I can’t handle the
emotional Twister that will likely ensue over every
little thing, particularly when any interaction with
them makes me feel like I’m the one at fault. And
there will be hassle over every little thing,
because their idea of a wedding is so different from
Boy’s family’s idea of a wedding, and I feel compelled
to try to make both sides feel comfortable.

Boy has said that the only thing he cares about for
our wedding day is that I’m happy — he would be happy
with going to the courthouse and celebrating over a
glass of sweet tea. He’s worried that if we press
forward and try to have a wedding of any kind, I’ll be
all stressed out on the day and he won’t get the only
thing he wants.

We are starting to consider, fairly seriously, the
idea of just going off to some fun place (NYC is the
top option at the moment) and getting married at City
Hall, sending postcards that say “Hey, we got
married,” and having a blast for a few days. No party
afterward — we can’t afford it, and that would bring
up the same issues as the wedding regarding making
both families happy. We’d just be married and get on
with our lives. He thinks his family would be fine
with it. I don’t know how my parents would react, but
there are times when I almost don’t care. And in the
long run, I think they would be relieved not to have
to deal with the “undesirable” in-laws.

At the same time, I am sad about the idea of not
having a “proper” wedding. It’s not because of any
princessy fantasy, but because I was really hoping to
bring both families together and foster some
connections. I wanted a true celebration, and now it
appears I can’t have that — at least not in the
traditional way. And while I can recognize that there
are reasons why the traditional way won’t work for us,
I still feel like I will miss out on something — like
it will eat at me for years that my parents found my
choice of husband so objectionable that I had to run
off.

So, it comes down to two basic questions, one in the
macro and one in the micro.

The micro: From where you sit, what’s the best way for
Boy and me to get what we want (to end up married,
somehow) without a big emotional mess? Am I really
going to regret it in a year (or 30) if we get married
by ourselves?

The macro: Can you help me find the words to tell my
mom, basically, “You had your time to run my life;
that time is over. Suck it up.” Come to think of it,
those words work quite nicely, but I would never have
the nerve to be that blunt to her.

Why do moms gotta be such a pain, Sars?

Trying To Cut The Cord, But It’s Made Of Dynamite

I am a 32-year-old female who is having a lot of problems grasping with the whole issue about marriage. Everyone in my life — friends and family have been on my case of settling down and being married. I have tried every single way of meeting people. Though its been difficult I have told myself to forge ahead and to continue because it takes time. About a few months ago I was suppose to get an engaged to someone who I had been seeing for about two years. He backed out last minute and I decided to end it due to his attitude and serious issues with comittment. My family was very supportive and I was able to slowly pick up the broken pieces and put my life back in order.

However, last night my mom was very depressed and told me that my cousin who is three months younger than me is getting engaged in January. She is my dad’s brother’s daughter and our families do not get along. Since my dad’s illness they have pretty much shunned us thinking that my dad is useless because he has a long-term illness. This cousin and I are not very close at all given how her father feels about our family. Her mother always tells my mom how inferior my mom and my family is to hers. She feels she is a very lucky person for having her kids married (she also has a son who is married to a woman who is just like his own mother). I have a brother the same age who is not married.

I am happy for my cousin and it did pinch me a little because I was supposed to be getting married the same time she is getting engaged. However, I have two concerns: 1. How do I help my mom not feel so down? She feels bad because this aunt and uncle have always openly put her and my dad down due to his illness. 2. I have to run into my cousin and her parents this weekend and I am okay with that. Plus my cousin and I do not talk at all and I would rather not talk to her. How do I help my mom from not feeling bad?

If my aunt acts smart I know I will say something to her, but I know it will upset my mom. I would be concerned with what my uncle would say but he is too busy making my fun of my dad and his health issues.

Any advice you have will help,
Confused in Napa

So, the problem is pretty much about this boy (we’ll call him Thomas) whom I have been seeing for roughly one month. The backstory is a little more complicated than that.

Around the end of August, I met Thomas. He was very into me from the beginning and didn’t make any bones about it. I was in a rough place with my boyfriend anyway, and I liked the attention. Thomas and I became good friends and started hanging out a lot, but his attentions were very focused on dating me, even though he knew my boyfriend situation, et cetera. I talked to him about it, told him I was dating someone, blah blah blah fishcakes.

Well, I try to make it work with my boyfriend, tell him he has to be more independent, et cetera. Meanwhile, I’m talking with Thomas some, and he is getting more and more insistent that he and I should date. I hang out with him a little, but not much, because I see it bothers my boyfriend. But I do talk to Thomas about a relationship. And I kiss him, I think twice, but they are minor kisses.

Things between my boyfriend and I get worse. I finally end things with him, end of September. At the same time, Thomas and I agree not to talk for a month, in order to make sure I am breaking up with my boyfriend for the right reasons and also so I can deal with all the emotional aftermath of the break-up without anyone else clouding up the picture.

So, at the end of October, Thomas and I finally start officially dating. It’s nice for maybe a week or two. Then? We start fighting. It’s not just regular, old “Who’s going to drive?” kind of fighting. It’s all-out war. About every other day.

What do we fight about? Well, that the thing. I wish I could say that I knew. They are about everything and anything, but mostly about what we don’t like about the other person. Thomas is the kind of guy who thinks he’s emotionally sophisticated, and so whenever he feels anything (read: has any kind of emotion), he lets it out. I’ve gotten yelled at for making a comment in a tone of voice he doesn’t like. I’ve gotten yelled at for not being happy enough at lunch. I’ve gotten yelled at for expressing an opinion about something. I’ve gotten yelled at for asking him if anything was wrong. Thomas, because he considers himself emotionally secure, tells me that it’s okay for him to be angry at these things because “that’s just an emotion.”

Well, Sars, I’m no psychiatrist, but I simply get the sense that this guy doesn’t like me and doesn’t like me for who I am. Isn’t part of getting to know a person getting to know their quirks and learning to decide if you are willing to live with them being dry and sarcastic (which I am) instead of telling them to not be that way?

I’m not the best judge of character. I have two recently failed relationships to prove this. But my question is this: what is this guy’s deal? He liked me for who I was when we were just friends.

Signed,
Helpless somewhere east of Seattle

Friendships have lifespans; I get that. But what if the friend doesn’t
get it? Your advice on this subject so far has been directed to people
who are wondering where their friendships went, and I’d like to hear
what advice you have for someone on the other side of the equation: the
person who recognizes the friendship is over but can’t get out from
under it.

I was introduced to Maureen by her husband/my boss; she was pregnant and,
according to her husband, bored. (This should have raised a red flag, I
know now.) We met for lunch a couple of times a month and talked about
her impending baby and my impending wedding.

Time passed and we became casual friends with fairly regular lunch dates
at the same restaurant. Eventually her husband left my company, then I
did. I began working much closer to home, and the drive out to see
Maureen doubled to nearly an hour — in rush hour, now, since I can’t go
that far at lunch.

She had her baby, then another. I got married in a small wedding; she
wasn’t invited (but hardly anyone was). I left my office job to do
freelance work from home.

At this point, through nobody’s fault, whatever tenuous threads we had
tying us together seem to have all but vanished. We don’t have a lot to
talk about anymore, and we meet at the same restaurant practically every
time we go out, someplace she loves but no one in her family can stand.
Sometimes I feel like I’m still doing the “entertain Maureen” routine
from back in the day.

Now, because I work at home, Maureen thinks I can drop everything and
drive an hour out to see her whenever she “just has to get out of the
house.” But because I work at home, I have very irregular hours, often
working late into the night and sometimes on weekends just to meet a
deadline. When I do scrounge up some time off, I certainly don’t want
to spend it hiking out to see her to talk about nothing and eat the food
she likes that no one else will eat with her. Maureen’s commute is
still less than half mine, and whenever I mention meeting closer to my
house, she complains that it’s “just so far.”

I’ve tried to put her off for many weeks, even months, at a time for
work reasons — and they’ve been valid ones. I had held on to her and her
son’s birthday presents so long after the fact that I mailed them over
with a note apologizing for being so busy that we couldn’t get together,
thinking she’d take the hint. As soon as the gifts arrived, however,
she wrote to thank me and ask when we could get together. Hint not
taken.

Once she asked me point-blank if I hated her or what, since I always
seemed to be blowing her off. I explained that her schedule and mine
don’t mesh, that it wasn’t personal, but that we just could not spend as
much time together as she wanted — not wanting to come right out and say
“I don’t enjoy spending time with you anymore. We don’t have anything
to talk about.” We did end up going out for lunch somewhere a little
more midway, more to placate her than anything else.

That was a few months ago, and I haven’t seen her since. But she’s starting to ramp up her emails again:
“What are your plans? When can we get together?” So far I haven’t
written back. I’m tempted to put her and her kids’ gifts in the mail
again and call the whole thing off as of then. I really don’t want
to give her the break-up talk, but is there another way to get it
through Maureen’s head that the friendship has just died out, the end?

I don’t wanna see you ’cause I don’t miss you that much

I’m pretty sure that I know the answer to this one already — but I need it
delivered in your inimitable style.

An incident from my past has been rearing its ugly head lately. Several
(ten) years ago, a friend’s boyfriend made a pass at me, let’s call him Jack
(short for Jack-Ass). Jack was also a friend of mine. In fact, it was
through Jack that I met my friend, Ann. We both needed a place to live for
the summer and he suggested that Ann and I rent an apartment together. Now
early in our friendship, Jack had made romantic overtures which I pretty
much ignored. I am still not clear as to whether he was dating Ann at that
time. But that went away, and we became friends.

Ann and I moved in together and hit it off fantastically. Great summer.
Jack was around a lot as was my boyfriend and everyone got along famously.
Fast forward to the end of the summer. Ann goes out of town. Jack calls
and asks if I want to go out to dinner one night. And you see where this is
going. Jack and I go to a fancy restaurant and have a nice time. On the
way back to the car, Jack grabs my hand which I think is strange. I feel
uncomfortable but don’t want to make a big deal about it. When we get to
the car, he starts trying to kiss me. Clearly, I should have clocked him in
the nose and hauled ass out of there. But I didn’t. I kind of laughed it
off and told him that this couldn’t happen. He drove me home and then asked
if he could come in for a minute. I let him come up but he left shortly
afterwards as I steered the conversation around to my boyfriend and how
wonderful I thought he was yadda, yadda, yadda.

My friendship with Jack cooled considerably after this. He called me
several times and asked why I was upset with him but I didn’t want much to
do with him. He and Ann ended up breaking up shortly thereafter.

Ann continues to be a very dear friend. I haven’t heard from or about Jack
in years. I have never told Ann about what happened.

At the time, I felt horribly upset and guilty about what happened. I beat
the hell out of myself for allowing him to think he could behave in such a
manner. I felt that I must have done something to encourage him. Why had I
acted so passively when he made me so uncomfortable? Was it because I
secretly welcomed that attention from him? What kind of a friend was I?

Eventually, I forgave myself and vowed to learn a lesson about standing up
for myself when I felt uncomfortable.

And yet, every now and then I find myself thinking about that evening and I
can’t help feeling ashamed and guilty. I wonder whether I should tell Ann
about what happened. The logical part of me says no — she’s moved way
beyond Jack and is in a great relationship. The guilty me wants to ‘fess up
and get this of my conscience.

So Sars, what’s the appropriate ending to this story that has already
dragged on about ten years, and a couple of paragraphs, too long?

Sincerely,
Enough Already