The Monkey House

One of the most entertaining exhibits at the zoo (it feels wrong to describe animals in this way, but I can't seem to find the right word) tends to be the monkey house. It's cool to watch them swing from tree to tree, to groom each other and engage in other human-like behavior. (Sidebar - is that why it's the most entertaining? Because we're totally narcissistic and essentially like to watch ourselves? Talk amongst yourselves.) However, sometimes the monkeys get agitated; they start hitting each other, howling at one another and before you know it, they're throwing feces all over the place. It's a sh*t show. Literally.

Monkeys are funny. They throw poop.

Hopefully, most of us are past the feces-throwing stage. (My true hope is that none of us ever threw feces, but some childhoods were rougher than others.) We have language to communicate our feelings and societal rules and expectations that strongly discourage hitting and feces throwing. However, there are some relationships that upon reflection we realize something - we are/were in the f*cking monkey house!

We all know that at the beginning of a relationship, we're our best selves. We hide the beanie babies, clean out our cars and we work really hard to keep our OCD tendencies to ourselves. Once we trickerate get comfortable with our prospective loves, we let our freak flag fly free. We've built trust, mutual respect and an understanding that you will be accepted for who you are. Yay, love!

But sometimes...we're too accepting.

Each of us has different standards and ideas of what love looks and feels like. What may be acceptable to some is absolutely intolerable to others. Yet, there are some common themes of what we believe is loving and respectful behavior. Affection, consideration, respect, communication - it would be difficult for me to conceive of a healthy and happy relationship without these components. Unfortunately, some of us forget and find ourselves in situations where none of these concepts are to be found.

It's not like your relationship started off that way (I hope). The representatives came and went; that's when the problems started. Sometimes those representatives are false; they are 180 degrees different from who the person actually is. We are drawn in by who we think they are (because that's how they show up initially) and as they get comfortable, their true colors start to show. It is difficult for us to accept that the person we fell for doesn't really exist and it's the mofo in front of us that we're left to deal with.

Trickerated.

This idea of the person that you fell in love with (you know, the one who doesn't actually exist) is holding you hostage in your relationship. You hope that they will return, so you stick around longer and longer, waiting for their return. Before you know it, your behavior starts to mimic theirs. No way in a million bajillion years could you imagine yelling expletives at someone you love. Or going on secret intelligence missions to figure out who they texted at 1 am. Or throwing feces. You learned it from watching them.

6 signs that you're in the monkey house:
1. Your behavior changes in a negative way.
2. You're embarrassed to tell your friends about what goes on in your relationship.
3. You make excuses for why they are acting that way.
4. You start telling yourself that your wants and needs are unrealistic.
5. You become that couple no one wants to be around because your interactions are so disrespectful and uncomfortable to watch.
6. The poop issue.

We tell ourselves little stories about their (mis)behavior, subconsciously normalizing it. "They're broken." "They've always loved crackheads so they don't know how to have a healthy relationship." "Their mom/dad was emotionally manipulative." "Feces is good for the earth and everyone poops." All of these things may be true, but it doesn't mean we have to accept them. It is not a bad thing to end a relationship with someone because they are broken. Unless they're really working on healing and making deliberate changes, you owe it to yourself to get out of the monkey house.

Besides, sh*t is really hard to get off the walls...so I've heard.

Supper Club

 

Back in my early twenties (approximately 5 minutes ago), my friends and I decided that we wanted to be grown and sexy. This of course, equated to starting a book club (because all the best conversations started on dates are about books). I can't remember how many of us there were; the number kind of fluctuated since we were so busy being in our twenties. However, it was a great way for a group of young women to bond and pretend to talk about literature. I say pretend because many of us "forgot" to actually read the books.

Fast forward to about 5 years ago. We decide to resurrect book club. This time, we're going to have rules and sh*t. The group was closed, we took turns hosting (which meant providing some snacks and most certainly wine), we had a set schedule and we all contributed to the book list from which we picked the next book. We were definitely growner and sexier now. The closed nature of the group allowed us to feel safe sharing what was going on in our lives, we liked wine now so we could get a little buzzy and with more life experience, we could really get into the meat of the books.

Except many of us "forgot" to read the books. Did you know that talking about a book is difficult when you haven't read it? Crazy, right?

Eventually, we gave up on the book reading part. What would actually happen was that we would make dinner, drink wine and catch up on what was going on in each other's lives, leaving about 20 minutes to talk about why we didn't read the book this time. So we redubbed it Supper Club and for the past 4 years, we've been taking turns hosting dinner once a month. And it's fabulous. Over the years, we've created a space where we can talk about anything from dating to health to reality television to professional development. We laugh, we cry, we sit around in our underwear (okay, that's just me) and most importantly, we eat!*

As we older, it's very easy to get caught up in being busy. Work, partners, children, macaroni necklace making, all of these take up time. Often, our non-primary relationships are sacrificed because we feel like we don't have time to attend to them. However, healthy friendships are actually critical in making our lives better, whether you're single, partnered or somewhere in between (yeah, I know, it's complicated). Deep down, you know your boo doesn't want to make necklaces with you - that's what a bestie is for.

Does this mean you need to start your own supper/book/knitting/World of Warcraft club? Not necessarily. But it is important that you set aside time to continue to cultivate and maintain those friendships. They talk you off the ledge when your 2-year old draws on the wall. They give you some perspective when your boo is acting a fool. Do you need a place to crash? Their couch has your name on it. They are our support system, but most importantly, they keep us sane. Not to mention that without them, you have no one to tell you your fly is unzipped, you have a booger in your nose and there's no way in hell you should appear in public with that outfit on.

And you can sit around their place in your underwear. (What? I was hot. They were clean!)

*You'd think getting a bunch of women together to eat wouldn't be problematic but as we've gotten even growner, some dietary issues have come about. We have 1 gluten-free, sugar-free person, 1 gluten-free, dairy-free person, 1 vegetarian, 1 sometimes vegetarian, sometimes gluten-free person, and 3 should be lactose free but pretend they don't need to be people. Figuring out a menu for our little group is like trying to figure out String Theory. Mostly we're successful, but sometimes, one of us is having salad and/or wine for dinner (no complaints about the liquid dinner).