I’m lazy about relationships some days. So are my friends. Random internet strangers.
…and who the fuck cares?
My cousin is a typical traditionalist who chose the path of least resistance when it came to her romantic life. Something easily understood by her mainly Christian conservative friends and family. She dated the opposite sex. She got engaged. They got married. They bought a house. Now she’s having a child, and she’s calling it a boy. Can’t get much lazier than my cousin in the romance department.
I couldn’t care less.
But then there is my other friend. My other friend dated boys, got engaged, got married, got a house, had kids. She got the same deal as my cousin. Just didn’t work out quite the same for her. I wish, frankly, that she hadn’t been so lazy.
Am I happy for her?
Yes, now I am. Ten years afterwards, she finally came clean. She didn’t have the life she wanted. She’d let her mother and sister run her wedding (easiest), which meant she hadn’t even had her own idea for her wedding. So she made a few changes. Finally stood up for her life. It worked out. Thank God it all worked out.
But if it hadn’t? I would’ve expected her to do what was right for her children first, not her. Which would have meant giving up a lot of the fun she had every right to want for herself. And I would have been sad for her. Good thing it all worked in the end. It doesn’t for everyone.
There’s nothing wrong with being lazy, when it makes you happy.
I like being lazy quite often. On certain days, I practice what you might call “de facto monogamy.” I’d never deceive someone by pretending otherwise, but some days it’s not super obvious. Some days, it’s just my master and me out and about. Or we stay home and watch Netflix instead of checking out a local sex party. He and I will both look at each other, “Is it really worth it to go out?” And decide, nope. It’s okay, too.