Why “Poor Kyle?” It all started during our engagement, when he was often the unfortunate outlet for all my pent-up pre-wedding stresses. Now that the wedding is over, the name has continued to seem…fitting. Because, of course, he’s married to yours truly, which means he has to put up with me for the rest of his life, and the rest of eternity after that (God willing). When I say, “Poor Kyle,” I don’t mean that Kyle is financially poor since marrying me–in fact, I spend less money than he does at Costco, and on more practical products. When I go to Costco, for example, I usually come away with boneless skinless chicken breasts, fresh produce, some bulk canned goods (building up that years’ supply), dryer sheets, and perhaps a treat like pot stickers. For a total of [usually] right around $100.00. When Kyle goes to Costco, he fancies buying thousand-dollar tool boxes and thousand-dollar tools to go in them. Financially, I may very well be the best thing that ever happened to Poor Kyle.
Emotionally, however, I suspect I am quite draining on my significant other. I have feelings, after all…and on both deeper and broader levels than Poor Kyle’s. When he thinks something is sad, I find that same something to be heart wrenching. If he thinks something is cool, I likely think that same something is the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me. If we disagree, he gets over it, because that’s how he was raised. If I am unhappy for any reason, I dwell on it (thus making me exponentially more unhappy, and–I know it’s pointless, okay?). I’m a dweller. I stew, brood, and dwell until it physically hurts, and then I blow up and start the whole process over again.
It’s a lot to keep up with, for a guy who likes “things that go vroom” as much as he does (like them, that is. Poor Kyle doesn’t “go vroom.” Very often.). I mean, here’s a guy who once bought his mom chocolates for St. Valentine’s Day–and charged them on her account at the pharmacy [I know. They still use the Honor System here in Mayberry]. Here is a guy who, despite receiving links, emails, and phone calls with specific items I’d love as a wedding gift, nevertheless found nothing to get me [maybe he forgot we were getting married?]. It’s okay, of course, because he was gift enough.
Poor, poor “Poor Kyle.”
As an aside, the song playing–“New Soul” by Yael Naim–is the best tune I’ve heard since Regina Spektor made her way into my life. Listen closely. I’m blogging about it tomorrow.
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