Unless, that is, you’re a Gemini-Sagittarius couple. If that’s the case? Give up and move on.
Assuming you’re not with the wrong astrological mate or anyone who’s appeared on The Bachelor, I have some proven tips that might make life a little easier in the Mars vs. Venus, Mars vs. Mars, or Venus vs. Venus tug-of-war with your significant other.
You may be wondering what makes me qualified to give relationship advice.
I’ve been in a lot of them.
Once I was wise enough to notice the opposite sex, I immediately became a self-declared, serial monogamist.
serial monogamist: se·ri·al mo·nog·a·mist \ˈsir-ē-əl\ \mə-ˈnä-gə-mist\ noun: one Stacie, who spends as little time as possible being single, moving from the end of one relationship to the beginning of a new relationship as quickly as possible faster than you can say “Shazam!” although the relationships in which many serial monogamists Stacies find themselves are also often short lived doomed, the defining aspect of serial monogamy is the desire need and ability to enter new relationships very quickly, thus abbreviating any period of single life self reflection during which the serial monogamist Stacie may begin to ask questions of an existential nature
Middle School Era:
High School Era (pre-car):
1. Boy asks if I want to go together.
2. I say “sure.”
3. We declare our undying love for one another and slip notes into each other’s lockers, which further acknowledges our undying love, until we get caught writing notes and have to go to detention after school (but we’re together and can pass notes so it’s O.K.).
4. We proceed to talk on the phone all the time, ask our parents to take us to the mall so we can hold hands and look at the cool stuff we don’t have enough money to buy, and write more notes until we break up (which is usually around fall so I can go to the homecoming dance with my besties).
Now wait. Before you get all, “Stacie thinks she’s all that ’cause guys were asking her out all the time and stuff,” remember that I grew up in Kentucky a thousand light years ago. It isn’t the Deep South, but it is connected to the lower half of Indiana. Which is kind of sad. Anyway, back then girls didn’t initiate anything with a boy. Period. Which I liked a lot at the time and even more now that I have two little girls of my very own. So there.
High School Era (post-car):
1. Boy asks if I want to be his girlfriend.
2. I say “sure.”
3. We declare our undying love for one another, he takes me to school every day, we go to McDonald’s and hang out with friends, decide we’re bored, and drive around all night looking for a party.
4. We proceed to spoon after-curfew in the creepy basement, watch movies, and look for more parties until we break up (which is usually around summer so I can hang out at the pool with the cute lifeguards and my besties).
1. Boy asks if I want to go to a grab-a-date.
2. I say “sure.”
3. We declare our undying love for one another, figure out we’re both way too into Erasure, and make mix tapes.
4. We proceed to go to more date parties, study together after class, and deconstruct why Andrew Shue plays such a doormat on “Melrose Place” until he asks if I like to cook. And then we break up (I’d rather not cook for my besties.).
So as you can probably tell, I’m the Gemini of the Gemini-Sagittarius couple. Bet you didn’t see that coming! Luckily, my husband is a Taurus, and when I start to display my Gemininess, he just ignores me. In case you haven’t noticed, Gemini have commitment issues (Ha! The plural of Gemini is Gemini!), and if you don’t believe me, go to Wikipedia and check it out.
Not my fault.
But this post wasn’t meant to be about the perfect fit between Gemininess and serial monogamy, or why I’m lucky I married a bull. It was supposed to be about how nonverbal communication can improve your relationship. I got so wrapped up in demonstrating my value as a nonverbal communication specialist, that I completely lost my train of thought.
And now? I need a nap.