I'm in an atrociously bad mood and am literally taking a break from work to write an entry. This is the exact sort of mood that would convince me to keep my bloggerific mouth shut and just wait til I'm in better spirits, but I've been on a bit of a roll lately so we'll see where this takes us. I've been on the edge of my seat waiting for each installment of how Mr. and Mrs. S met on Schnozzfest (who I found through the totally bad ass NaBloPoMo randomizer and hope it never goes away until I've found all the cool blogs it has to offer). Reading what "Schnozz" (is that what I should call her? Ms. Fest?) has chronicled has really gotten me thinking about how relationships start and also how they grow. I haven't had very many relationships in my short (HA!) life, but I feel like the one's I have had were worthwhile and not ones I would want to disown. In each of those relationships, I've noticed a few themes.

I don't trust anyone who doesn't listen to music and I couldn't sleep with someone who can't produce at least 10 quality artists for me to enjoy. Why would I give myself to a person who can't recognize that life (and sex) have a soundtrack? When starting a new relationship, I always wanted to sneak a peek at their vinyl/tape/cd/mp3 collection to know what I was getting into. That really is an area where both quality and quantity matter. I have found a way to get music into every room of our house (minus the bathroom, but give me time and I'll find a way) and it's as important to me as our utilities being paid.

I won't tolerate lies. I think I picked this up from my father, who is honest almost to a fault. My father is the man who told my mother he would like to take my mother out for dinner in thanks for all the meals she had cooked him while he was doing carpentry work at her house. When she told him that wasn't necessary, my 24 year old father replied, "Yes it is. I've never been on a date and I need the practice." How could she say no? I would rather hear that you don't like my meatloaf and have you own up to breaking any proverbial lamps than not feel like I can trust you. If you make up something or tell me what I want to hear, you imply that I'm too stupid to know better or don't deserve your respect to get the truth. I've had to learn how to handle this when dealing with Rich's family as many things are in shades of grey, but I take solace that Rich is up front with me and we just take the rest of the family with a grain of salt.

Communication is the sexiest part of any relationship (perhaps this is why I became a Communication Studies major in college). Tell me what you're happy about, sad about, worried about or really really really want and I'll hang on every word. Rich and I work in the same office and sleep in the same bed and yet still manage to have a long list of things to describe to each other in our "how was your day, sweetie?" recaps. I love the feeling of being on the same team while still being the president of each other's fan club. The person I'm sleeping with should be the first person I go to with my hopes and concerns (regardless of what those concerns are) and if not, we have no business fucking.

Well, after some ruminating, I'm feeling a bit better about the world. It's back to the mines for me.