I'm not a patsy.

When did Nice become Being a Patsy? And why do I care?

So, a weird thing is happening. I’ve started to figure out who I am without all the external noise. All my life it’s been ‘Oh, you don’t like this dress? I’ll go change. You are sure I can’t get a job without a better degree? Fine, I guess I’ll go to law school.’ Et cetera and so forth.

Don’t get me wrong, there were definitely good things about going to law school. I know my parents were worried that I didn’t have a sense of direction, wouldn’t be able to earn a good living with an English literature degree and they wanted the best for me. (Unbeknownst to anyone but me at the time, my master plan was to go to law school and MARRY another law student. We could talk learnedly about law over my delicious dinners with a good wine and I could hear all about his day. . . while never actually having to do the, you know, hard law stuff. Well, that didn’t work out exactly as expected. Clearly.)

I ended up working as an Assistant District Attorney trying violent crime cases for five years, then I joined the Army as a JAG attorney, and finally ended up as a civilian attorney for the Department of Defense. Thirty five years of Law and a pretty solid paycheck. The big PLUS for the experience was living in Germany, where I met and married a gorgeous, tough British officer. Second plus, I had to develop skills, confidence and ability pretty damn quick when working in front of a jury or Soldiers. Lots of good things, along with the bad of constant stress and long hours.

ANYWAY, what made me start thinking about this was a conversation last night and this morning. Last night I met some neighbors for what we call Porch Therapy because, um, we drink our wine on a porch together and yak. One of my neighbors asked for a favor. He needed a ride to the local airport. I cautiously said I’d do my best, as long as it wasn’t in the morning, I have drawing class on Fridays. He asked what time? From 9 to 12. Great, then you can take me to the airport at 5:30! I laughed and said NO WAY am I doing that. (I’ve taken him to the airport a few other times, but those flights were at 10:30 and 3 pm.)

He looked a little crestfallen but said he’d call a cab. I felt a twinge of guilt, but I really need my sleep right now. And I don’t drive well in the dark. I came home and told my husband I'd set boundaries so I could get enough sleep to enjoy art class.

So what happened this morning? Well, I woke up at 2:30. And stayed up. (Note to self - apparently, your new stomach is good with RED wine, but not white. Do not drink white again. Too much sugar.)

I got back in bed at 4:30 a.m, but thought, what if his cab doesn’t show? So I turned off the Do Not Disturb on my phone and finally texted him at 5:25. He was waiting for the cab. At 5:45 I called him - the taxi still wasn’t there. I told him I would throw on some sweats and meet him at my car. My husband, already up and drinking his coffee - you remember the cats from yesterday’s post, right? Yeah, they wanted to be fed at 5:00 - looked at me and said You’re such a patsy. I said, NO, I’m just a nice person. Patsy, he replied with another swallow of coffee. (And NOW I think of the perfect reply. Who’s the patsy? Who got out of bed to feed the fricking cats at 5:00 this morning? You! You’re the Patsy. Drat. I’ll have to file that away for later.)

By the time I made it to the driveway, the taxi was turning into the street, the little red light on top glowing in the pitch black. So good news, I didn’t have to drive to the airport in the pitch dark AND got in really good with the neighbor for offering.

So where’s the epiphany? Well, for a brief moment I thought, yeah, I AM a patsy. Maybe I shouldn’t do this. Maybe I should have firm boundaries. Maybe you’re right. Then this popped in- that’s not me. That might be YOU if he asked you to take him to the airport, but not me. I can do what I want, and it doesn’t matter what other people think of it. WOW. What a concept.

(He talks a good game. He’d also drive the neighbor to the airport in a pinch, but he’d grumble a lot more on the way. Hah!)

I have boundaries - but they are flexible. No, I’d rather not take you to the airport at 5:30 am, but if your taxi doesn’t show, I will. Of course I will! Duh.

I can’t make everybody happy, so I might as well do what makes ME happy. That seems the best route. It’s taken a while to figure this one out. But better late than never.