“Let’s go Blue Demons sprint” is blaring in my ear as my head pounds in unison with the sound of soccer players kicking balls with their heavy cleats. The smell of half-eaten pizza and left over Svedka sting my nose. I groggily open my eyes only to see a long arm draped around my side. The events of last night hit me in the face like a bucket of ice-cold water. Instead of feeling the shame that gender roles have provided for us, I feel happy. I was home safe and had a great time. I feel his heavy body roll over and see his bright blue eyes light up. I am expecting him to get up and leave, but instead he asks me if I am hungry and would like to go to breakfast. Did I hear that right? I was expecting him to run as fast as he could because that is what has been preached to me through movies, books and elders. If you sleep with a guy on the first date, he won’t respect you and he will use you. Well, society, if that is so true, how is it that same guy ended up being my boyfriend for a year and the love of my life? It’s a whole new game, ladies, and we run it.
“The Man” is always supposed to pay for meals, but as my boyfriend and I started spending two days together, which eventually turned into five days, I threw that expectation out the window. Do not get me wrong, my boyfriend was more than willing to pay for me, but I did not want him to all the time. I would get breakfast, he would get lunch, and we would make dinner. Eventually, when it was too cold for us to go out—yes, we are both from California—every week he would buy groceries and I would cook.
No, this is not me giving into stereotypical gender roles, but this is me being an Italian with high cooking standards who has experienced my love’s cooking. I had a rough night and he decided to let me sleep in and make me breakfast. The breakfast was uncooked bacon, eggs, and Wonder Bread. I ate every last greasy piece because I thought it was the sweetest thing ever, but decided that if we wanted to stay alive and well, I should cook. Plus, I enjoyed cooking; it is in my spaghetti-flavored veins.
There was a time when the stay-at-home mom was the norm, but now the working mom has taken her place. Since my boyfriend is also my best friend, we spend what seems like 24/7 together, but that did not stop me from working. I worked on my own website, wrote for the school paper, and studied like crazy to get straight A’s. I would lay in his lap and highlight my mind-boggling philosophy book, as he would play video games or did his accounting work. I could juggle my academic and professional life, while I also focused on my romantic life. He actually found it sexy that I knew how to use my brain and have meaningful conversations, what a concept! Having goals and being ambitious is important, because there are two people in the relationship you must cater to...your partner and especially yourself.
If I followed oppressive gender roles, I would never have been as happy as I am today: Working for myself, driving the car, paying for my own food, depending upon not solely my man, but myself. So, whenever an older family member, or friend asks how we met, I answer with this, “I called him late one rainy Saturday night, we laughed a lot, and he spent the night.” The look on their faces never gets old; they think that I am joking, but, no, I am not the girl who waited five minutes before texting back, or waited for the man to make the decisions. I was the woman who knew what she wanted, was honest, and took initiative. My mom still finds it hard to believe that I was the one to make the first move, but look where it got me? I couldn’t see myself with anyone else.
