I am and forever shall be a city girl. There are times when I flirt with the idea of living on some quaint country estate with livestock. I picture rural France or somewhere European. It seems picturesque and wonderful. Even my country fantasies are snobby and unrealistic. My husband, on the other hand, is a country boy. He wants to be as far away from city life as possible. I don't know how I ended up in this Green Acres marriage, but here I am.
Now I don't exactly live in the city per se. I live in suburbia. I live close enough to the big city that I don't go into a panic. We live far enough from the big city that Dan the man doesn't go into a panic. Marriage is all about compromise you see. I love going downtown. Any chance I get to be surrounded by high rises, busy streets and shops as far as the eye can see, I'm there. My parents are city folk too, whether they will admit it or not. They also share my aversion for farm life. We like small domesticated animals whose cleanup does not require shoveling. I dream of the day when Dan the man will come to his senses and see how phenomenal it would be to live in a swank condo with a view of the city skyline. I have a friend who is living my city dream in New York. I am afraid that if I go visit her I won't come back. There is so much to do and see in the city. The conveniences abound.
Dan the man says the city is full of criminals. He starts to go into a full on panic attack when we even skirt the city limits on the freeway. His gaze hardens, he starts to sweat, and he grips the steering wheel as if he were choking the evils of the city with his bare hands. He sees homeless aka con artists and pick pockets and gangsters. All things bad occur in the city. I certainly am never to go there alone. He needs to escort me and be sure to eschew any and all big city influences. Mostly I think its so I don't spend money, but that is another story all together. I want my kids to enjoy the city as much as I do, but their father's constant barrage of country music and love of wranglers and western wear makes them think they want to be cowboys. Ok then, be cowboys. Here is your shovel. Smell that country air.
I will remain not only a displaced southerner, but also a displaced city girl for the time being. I hope that one day Dan the man and I can see eye to eye on where to live. Neither of us are at home in the burbs. Both of us yearn for something farther away from the present. Those places just so happen to be as geographically removed as possible. I don't think Dan is as cut out for country life as he thinks. Yes, he hates traffic, but not as much as he hates not being able to have Taco Bell any dang time he wants to. He also needs his cable, internet, and movie theater. He has fallen in love with a living room style theater here that has a fantastic restaurant. These things give me hope, hope that maybe he just isn't in touch with his inner city boy. He is in there somewhere I know it. After all, he did marry me. One day he may come to terms with his love of downtown and we will get that condo, and eat at French restaurants, and go to the museum and the opera and shop at Macy's.............
1 comment:
when Dan is dead from old age we can be roommates in a condo downtown...okay, neighbors anyway.
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