Dolly Parton's Husband
Or, an ode to quiet, unassuming men (one in particular).
I recently joined a kind of silly, irreverent Facebook group — just the kind I enjoy! — whose purpose is to help others make small decisions. The idea is that the decisions are not too consequential: Should I make pasta tonight, or a casserole? Paint my door royal blue or bright red?
Inevitably, people post about more consequential things too, like where they should live, or what to do about relationships that are clearly going south.
This morning I came across a post from a presumably teenage girl. (I am trying to stop morning scrolling, by the way, but this seems to be the way of things: little things — and I never know where they will come from — help me get hooked on an idea, and then the things join together until they become, collectively, a heavy raincloud in my mind, which ultimately gets rained down in words onto this blog. There’s no other way that these get produced).
Anyway! She was upset that a friend of her boyfriend seemed to always be flirting heavily with him, and worse, that the boyfriend seemed to be lapping it up. Should she send a three-page letter (already composed) to this girl explaining how much it hurt her and asking her to stop?
It reminded me of a guy in high school I briefly dated. He was charming and likable. Ever so slightly effeminate (or is it just artistic?), a trait that I’ll admit I like, as I find it…disarming, I guess? This also meant he had his fair share of girl-friends.
This was fine by me, until the day I walked into a classroom to see one of these girl-friends sitting on his lap. I promptly wrote my break-up letter and passed it to him that afternoon.
I haven’t seriously been with anyone as similarly outgoing since, though I suppose my ex-husband might have come the closest to that category.
I don’t typically leave comments to strangers, but I felt the need to pass on some of my own hard-earned wisdom here, which was basically this: you’ve got a deal with your boyfriend, not with all the other people in the world who may find him attractive and want to pluck him from you. No one has to leave him alone; it’s his job to lay down those boundaries clearly.
Plus, I bet there are tons of other people out there who wouldn’t sadistically sit back and revel in two girls fighting desperately for his attention. Gross.
I’ve been thinking about my partner of four years a lot lately, and how much I love him. I mean, I always think about him, I guess.
He recently took a job — hopefully, one that will bring him back to Xalapa soon — in a city not too far from here, but far enough that daily commuting isn’t feasible. It’s a good career move for him, but my goodness, do we miss each other. It’s the first time we’ve lived apart in three years, and even with frequent visits back and forth, has been a lot to get used to.
But he’s intensely Private with a capital P, so I do my best to respect his wishes of not talking about his personal business to random people; I even make an effort to be at least somewhat choosy in what I say about him to my close friends. This is something I must actively put some effort into, as I am a natural blabber, always quick to forget that some listeners might have reactions besides goodwill and admiration.
(I might as well get in some practice: my daughter is, I’ve come to realize, the same way.)
He is, in short, Dolly Parton’s Husband, and I am Dolly Parton. Or, if you prefer, he is Kermit, and I am a less dramatic and emotionally-abusive Miss Piggy, puro dulzor.
Fine. I’m obviously not Dolly Parton, but you get the gist. I’m the outgoing one. I’m the one that needs a frequent baño de gente (“person bath” — sounds 100% creepier in English) and lots and lots of meaningful time with friends.
If I spend more than a full day and a half inside of my house without seeing anyone, it’s enough to make my life battery die down to 4% and my face go expressionless. He could easily go a month seeing no one but me, then find satiety with a 3-hour convivio. “Check! Ready for another month indoors with you.”
It’s a cliché, but I can confidentially say that at least social opposites do indeed attract: every enduring relationship I know of is made up of one introvert and one extrovert.
You’d think this would cause problems, but it works out.
Why? Because in addition to simply being compatible and genuinely liking each other as people, we share a great gift: trust.
In a culture where jealousy is a major feature of most romantic relationships, this is no small accomplishment. As Bethany Platanella noted, trust here is based more on one’s partner’s access to having an affair rather than actual demonstrable behavior. Are there pretty women around him when you’re not there? Side-eye, baby, side-eye. (I know this because I’ve sometimes been the pretty woman around, unaware that I was being eyed suspiciously by female partners. That was a hard and sad lesson to learn, my friends.)
Since I’m the outgoing one (and the frequently out-going one), I’m the more likely candidate, of course, for suspicion under this schema. I like people, and I’m expansive. I have a lot of friends, women and men. I like attention. I’m pure sunshine, and I’ve got a lot of love (non-romantic love, mind you) to give the world. I’m Dolly.
And after my first marriage ended, I made the conscious decision that I would have zero patience for jealousy and suspicion in a relationship, again, no small feat in Mexico. We either trust each other or we don’t, and if we don’t, then that’s a major crack, possibly an irreparable one.
I lucked out, partially, I think, because we’re both now old enough to have had enough past experiences to make us mature and realistic about How Things Are. Sometimes, you really do just need to be older and wiser, and unafraid to discuss and agree upon, as opposed to assume, hard limits. (Open and unrestricted access to each other’s phones, computers, and locations is also a nice layer, I’ll admit.)
Because of that hard-earned wisdom, we have the same attitude toward each other and the other people who will inevitably be attracted to us because we are both super awesome in lieu of jealousy: “Yes, enjoy their company, they are indeed beautiful and cool; I get it. But they’re coming home with me.”
It’s a nice way of looking at things, as it leaves space for reality while demonstrating the trust we have in one another. We know who we’re with. Everyone else will do and feel however they will, which is not our concern.
As many people have said over the years, love is a choice one makes everyday. Partnership is a daily choice, as well, and if you ever start seeing it as a trap, that’s a good indication that Something Isn’t Right.
So for me, this Dolly-Carl relationship feels like freedom and security, the first time I’ve experienced such a thing: for me to be myself, for him to be himself, both of us completely confident in our love and faithfulness for one another.
What a gift. I hope we make it as long as Dolly Parton and Dolly Parton’s Husband.
I am so happy for you, Sarah! I hope this one is "forever".