Do Cubans Eat Peanut Butter?

 I AM the stinky cheese

         It’s Friday of judgment week which sounds scarier than it really is. We have been discussing the effects of judgment and how this takes you away from your experience. Since we did our radio show yesterday, we didn’t have the opportunity to discuss how judgment messes up a couple. So instead of waiting for next Thursday to pick up this topic, we will discuss it today. We can do that because it’s our blog and we can do what we want. So there.

          Lee says: When I worked with couples back in the day, aside from a crappy sex-life, the final nail in the relationship coffin was how the partners would judge one another. Every idiosyncrasy would get dissected and used as evidence of their unworthiness. However, let’s face it, day in and day out with the same human being can wear on everyone and, unless you are from royalty or really sick, you weren’t raised together. So of course there will be differences that you will judge negatively and/or positively.

          In my case, I found myself married to a ‘white guy’. I am the daughter of Cubans and was born and raised in Los Angeles, California. Being born and raised there didn’t matter one bit since my parents, at that point, were not assimilated into the culture. Case in point, we never had peanut butter or cool cereal. My Mom just wouldn’t buy it. In fact, the only way we ever ate anything ‘American’ in our home was because either my sister or I would learn to make it. Sunday breakfast was very different once Aidi mastered the pancake!

          So marrying Paul was a bit of a culture shock. But did I judge the love of my life and object of my desire? You bet your ass I did! For the first year of our marriage, we spent most of our time talking about ‘this is how we did it back home’. In some areas, I was very flexible and was able to observe him like Dian Fosse and her gorillas. In other areas, my judgments were so thick that I could hardly see my husband anymore and he was a total stranger.

          Some of the hotter topics centered around cleanliness. I tend to be a little OCD when it comes to personal sanitation and Paul is more lackadaisical about the whole topic. I could have easily convinced my family that Paul’s lack of hygiene appreciation was grounds for divorce. I could have made up my mind that everything else was trivial compared to this. Sure he was a great guy but he would get a little ripe at the end of the day.   

          In Paul’s defense, I am a personal clean freak. I can guarantee freshness better than produce people. My judgment of people who can’t is that they are dirty and irresponsible. So how can I have that belief/judgment and stay married to a man who can’t tell that his deodorant lost the fight?  

          This is where choosing to love and staying in the moment is so important. In the present is where you feel but being present is a task. It takes every once of strength when you first start doing it. In the present is where you find your joy; a pure experience that is only experienced now and now. Hippy, mumbo jumbo aside, when I focused on that one thing I lost sight of the man I love and could only see a pig. I was no longer present and there was no way I could enjoy him without forcing myself back into the moment. 

          Today, Paul has given into my crazy and keeps himself smelling good. Can he guarantee freshness like me? No, but few people can. I am a freak and I don’t need anyone’s judgment to tell me that.

          Paul says: Judgment in a relationship is like an American going to England on July 4th and being pissed that he’s not getting to see fireworks. When you step back from the situation, you can see the ridiculousness of it but when you are in the fog of righteousness, nothing is going to dissuade you from being…well…right.

          As for my stinkiness: Degree Clinical Protection. If you can break that shit, you can melt a brick under your pits.


One comment

  • Damn Skippy!!! Baking cookies, making pancakes, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches!!! Yum! That’s why shopping with Dad was always more fun! He always let us buy whatever we wanted. Not mom. Thanks for the shout out… Made me smile and snicker…. 🙂

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