A place of my own

E. and I had a little fight on the drive back through from the Other City this morning.

You see, E. and I, despite having very similar tastes in a great many things, have somewhat different perspectives on how a weekend should be spent.

E.'s version involves bounding out of bed at 8.30, running down to get the paper, which he reads very fast while hoovering up his breakfast. Then, if the weather isn't favourable to his partaking in one of his "guy activities" which totally exclude me, (such as fishing, golfing or cricket), he proceeds directly to nagging me about what we are going to do this weekend. Where are we going? What are we doing? When? Things to accomplish, things to do do do.

My weekend mode involves a rather different charging of the batteries. I wouldn't describe myself as lazy, but I work damn hard during the week, and I like to sleep late if possible, then pooter round the house. Hang up the laundry, tidy up a bit. Then do some shopping, or read a book. Go to the gym if I am in the mood, or go out for a walk. Or go online.

It's the last item on my agenda that E. objects to. Now, I admit I do spend rather a lot of time online. And that has been a habit for a number of years now- the "infertility thing" has only exacerbated this behaviour. E. doesn't know anything about my blog, or my message board, and he can't understand why I would choose to spend hours tippy-tapping to all my virtual friends.

Not that he knows who any of my virtual friends are- he can barely remember the names of the 'real friends" he has met. And even then he can only identify them by some external characteristic.

E: "Jennifer? She's the one who goes out with Mark?"

Me: "Yes, Jen and Mark. The only Jennifer I associate with. They've been here for dinner about three times. We're invited to their wedding. How can you not remember?"

E: "Is she the one you used to work with?"

And so it goes.

In E.'s book, the whole online thing is just another sign of my tendency towards reclusiveness, toward hiding from the rest of the world. OK, I admit it would be unhealthy if I blogged to the exclusion of all other activities in life, but I don't. I work hard, I go to the gym three or four times a week, I read a lot, I watch movies, I do meet up with "real life" friends. It's just that ultimately, I prefer to be able to do my "socialising" in the comfort of my own home, wearing my pajamas if I so desire.

I think the main reason E. doesn't like my virtual life is because it's a place that doesn't involve him. And the fact that he regularly engages in hobbies which exclude me (and which take up the whole day) doesn't seem to count. Thus hence our fight.

I need to be able to find a way to explain to E. that by going online, I'm actually patching together my sanity. I'm re-connecting to people who understand what I am feeling, and who support me. And that by doing so, I am better equipped to come back to him in one piece, and be a person he would actually want to spend time with.

Is that so hard to understand?