On Spoiling and Being Spoiled

As you've deduced by now, I've been associated with a large number and wide variety of men in my lifetime. I've been the object of a lot of different styles of relating, some good, some wonderful, some reproachable. I know a good thing when I see it.

Driving in to work this morning, I was pondering how much I like the interactions with Mr. Match, and how spoiled I'm getting by his treatment. That makes me think about how to ensure its continuance.

Y'know how the laboratory rat can successfully navigate the maze when he knows there's a nibble of cheese at the end. And he keeps improving his navigation speed with repeated cheese-rewards. I was trying to find the analogy with the way a woman treats a man and his responses to her — is she nice to him, navigating the maze, for the reward of his affection, his kind words? Is he nice to her, navigating the maze, because he likes the treatment he gets? Or is he just nice, a true gentleman, and would treat her the same way regardless of her treatment of him? Who's the rat and who's the cheese in that analogy?

I suspect all relationships start off with both partners treating each other well. We're on our best behavior, but when does that "best" adjective get dropped? Is she on her best behavior until she "catches" him, until she gets a commitment out of him? Does she then feel she can drop the pretense and just be herself?

I hope "myself" is exactly what I'm seeing at this point in time. I hope I'm smart enough, motivated enough, to keep these patterns of relating going through a long relationship. I look back at earlier non-John relationships and see things I wish I'd done differently. I hope I've learned those lessons.

The relationship with John was all about compatibility and caring. There was no fighting, no discord. The only day I wish I could do over was the day he died. I wish I had realized that afternoon what was happening and stopped frantically calling every medical professional to get him some help. I wish I had recognized the Cheyne-Stokes breathing and just . . ., just relaxed. I wish I had just sat and stroked his chest and arms and relished our last few hours together.

During the last year with him, I frequently thought of cross-stitching and framing a saying to put in the foyer: Kindness Spoken Here. I've told my sons several times that the only thing I care about being said about me after I die is "She was kind."

So that would be my wish, also, in a long-term relationship. That the affection and kindness and caring of the early weeks and months can stretch on and on into the continuing years. May they be long and happy.