Last week I ran into a friend from yoga class. (Does saying you ran into a friend from yoga make you sound like you’re more in shape than you actually are? Because that was what I was aiming for.)
Anyway, we started talking, and in true girl-chat fashion, the conversation turned to relationships. “I keep telling my girls, why buy the cow when they can get the milk for free,” she laughed.
I could feel my stomach tighten. There’s only one phrase that bothers me more than that one (it’s when my dad yells “hot diggity!” every time we order appetizers at dinner, but that’s for another day). Can we lay this phrase to rest? I’m sick of it. I really like cows and milk, and it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to enjoy my cereal in the morning without being reminded that milk comes at a price.
Am I alone in this? I’m not a cow. I’m a human being and so is the man I’m living with. He’s not my husband, and I’m not his wife. Does it make us both disrespectful rogues? I don’t think so. I don’t judge couples that don’t live together before marriage. Why? Because it’s NONE OF MY BUSINESS. If you want to live together before marriage, then do it. If you don’t, then don’t. Forget the cows and the milk and dark looks and the friends who say, “I mean, are you going to get married soon or what?” Forget all of it.
You take care of your milk first, dammit. And when you find someone that treats you with respect and makes you feel great, then have a glass of milk together. Make a freaking milkshake. And then don’t judge me for enjoying the hell out of my ice cream sundae.