Yeah, the difference I was speaking of was she worked as an ad executive on Madison Avenue, he worked in the fish market at Whole Foods for extra cash (he also is an author, so of course got the proceeds from his books, but that isn't a steady gig). I am not sure what the gap is in pay there, but can only assume it to be pretty significant I would like to think that it wouldn't bother me, as long as the guy was passionate about SOMETHING and didn't sit at home playing video games all the time. But I'll be the first to admit that the uncertainty of something along the lines of a business owner, a free lancer, an artist of any sort, etc where the money isn't steady and regular would completely stress me out. I grew up without much money, so am a bit crazy about budgeting.
I always find the "passionate about something" sentiment fascinating because it's implicit (or explicit) that only certain things qualify as being acceptable passions. I'd be interesting in seeing what various people deem acceptable and unacceptable passions.
The reason I brought up video games is because this is what the new bride complained about, if she didn't drag him out he would just sit at home playing video games. Nothing disparaging about video games necessarily, I am sure guys don't see the point of spending hours on pinterest either. As far as the passion goes, I hadn't given that much thought into what was "acceptable" and I don't think it can be qualified by just words or descriptions or specific job titles. We all know that nobody is going to make a fortune going into teaching, nursing, firefighting, etc. However, generally if this is a field that you have chosen, it is something that means something to you, so I don't think it is about money at all (why I hated to see all the gold digger disparaging remarks thrown about in the other thread). For me, it is more of a personality trait. Finding something important to you, focusing on it, committing to it. If you have that in your career, it typically bleeds into other aspects of your life as well. On the flip side though, if I was with a guy who worked 60 hours a week, was never around, didn't care about anything except his job, etc, I wouldn't be interested either.
Ugh, this again? Can a couple where the woman makes more than the man work? Yes, yes it can. My wife and I are walking proof. She has a 100K+ salary. I have a teaching degree, meaning no matter what I do, chances are good she will be making significantly more money than me. I stay home more with our daughter, she works more. Yet, we're not divorced, I don't feel like "less of a man," and she doesn't feel that I am a lazy, shifty layabout who doesn't do anything. It is all about the two people in the relationship. If they work well together, in a partnership, why does anyone else give a flying fuck who makes more money? I just don't understand why this is an issue for some people. If you feel that your man needs to be the "breadwinner," fine, that works for you. If you'd feel like "less of a man" if you didn't make more money than your wife, sure, those are your feelings and you're welcome to them. Don't project your feelings and issues on others, though.
I've been walking along the pier in Long Beach, CA this afternoon. It's a cloudless sky with a breeze and 66 degrees outside. That is all.
Reason number 375 why I would live to move. I feel like the forecast that sack posted is our "break" from the heat.
As a mod, I am ordering one of the tibettes to give a blowie to whoever posted that video on how to pan sear a steak in a cast iron skillet. Good god I make better steak than a restaurant now.
No lie, my husband's favorite "special occasion" place in Capital Grill for a steak (which is pretty darn good for a chain restaurant). Getting wined and dined is awesome, and they make a mean stoli-doli, but I always insist that he can do a steak just as good as home. Must be the promise of blowies.
Yeah, home done food is great but here's the catch: it tastes like YOUR food. I enjoy cooking and I'm pretty good at it, but no matter the variety of doughs and toppings I use to make say, home made pizza, sometimes el husband just craves some nasty ass greasy take out Papa John's pizza. Which I don't get. It's not like he has to make it himself. I'm hoping to slowly break him of his desires for overpriced, bad for you, and not that tasty fast foods. Drives me up a WALL! Damnit!
If you figure it out, tell me the secret please. Like you, I will make something that I think is fantastic, and he will say so that he thinks so too. But has something against leftovers for some reason. So instead of eating something home made, non processed, healthy, tasty, etc, he'll eat shitty food with a Fruity Pebbles chaser. (and the part that I hate the most is that he is thin and trim)
If it's something not made by a loved one I feel no guilt in complaining about it if it doesn't meet my expectations.
Well, I deem Almostgaunt's trip to New York a success because within a week I finally managed to convince him that, here in Amurrica, things taste like colors. As in, "I'll have the blue popsicle and the purple drink, please."
Just because guys don't generally call it comfort food doesn't change the fact that most of the things we eat are chosen from habit and because we enjoy the familiarity. The fact that the food we cook ourselves, or that others cook for us is often vastly better tasting and better for us and etc doesn't change the fact that greasy shit from an over priced take out chain often comes with an emotional history that you can't erase. Meat and cheese only double cheeseburgers from McDonalds are pretty much the happiest thing on earth for me. They're fucking awful, they're bad for me, and blah blah blah blah. I don't give a shit. Every time I eat one, it triggers a decade of sense memories of good fucking times. That burger fresh from the drive-thru window, while cruising down the highway at three thirty in the morning in a car full of tired but wired friends/lovers, talking about the night just gone and making plans for breakfast the next afternoon, bare foot because my feet hurt after being on them all night, is my fucking happy place. I've eaten that burger, under those circumstances, so many fucking times. It's like a sense memory trip through a thousand of the best memories of my adult life. Sometimes it's a plain cheese burger or a double quarter pounder - but it's always McDonalds and it's always meat and cheese only. That shit could be made of arsenic and dead babies - I'd still immediately feel happier every time I ate one. That sense memory association is strongest for me with that burger and that time of day. But memory triggered to taste and smell is one of those things. You can't argue with that kind of emotional history.