The Relationship

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The relationship has soured.

I started to feel as though I was giving more than I was receiving.  I felt an imbalance, and, at times,

consumed by it.

The relationship started off like any other.

It was fun, exciting, interesting and captivated my attention.

But, like many other relationships,

The allure faded, and I was left with the reality that I had come to rely on the relationship too much.

The complacency,

The way I started to feel like a drone.

So we have parted ways.

It's a trial separation.

Do I miss it?

Can someone miss Facebook?

I guess so.

But not so much.

Not just yet.

As I explained to my girlfriends just this afternoon, I decided to part ways for Facebook temporarily.

Going dark for the summer was my way of giving Sayler more of mommy's attention.

It was my way of facing the reality that the grimey grout in my shower was not going to disappear on its own and my way of staring down the shelves in my fridge and letting them know that I knew they knew it was time they knew who was the boss of that mess.

I decided to spend the summer reading books instead of the Facebook news reel.

I made the conscious decision to be all old-fashioned-like and play outdoors with my growing little girl.

I notified my husband that I would, effective immediately, be leaving Facebook for him.

He took it harder than I thought he would.

"But who will update our family and friends in the U.K. about Sayler...?"

To which I smiled and reminded him that he, too, had a Facebook page and I could surely entrust that job to him (which he has yet to take on with the gusto I once did).

I am still pressing him to allow me to discontinue our cable for the remainder of summer in an effort to truly enjoy a media-free vacation (she says as she taps away on her laptop).

The proposition made him nervous...

Sweaty...

Afraid.

Lest I forget that the Euro-Cup is taking place over summer, he was sure to stutter and stammer through his concerns over missing these crucial, world-changing soccer matches.

But, I argued, if I could give up the rest of the season of the Bachelorette and So You Think You Can Dance than he, surely could give up a solid 6 weeks of European soccer.

Right?

Because there's just no way that men chasing a ball (handsome as they might be) is more important to our existence than finding out which lucky suitor will receive the final rose from Emily Maynard this summer.

Right?



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