Christal Cooper
*Other Features About Julia Scheers:
http://chrisricecooper.blogspot.com/2015/06/jesus-land-by-julia-scheeres-love-story.html
http://chrisricecooper.blogspot.com/2015/06/jesus-land-by-julia-scheeres-love-story.html
*Article 1,107 Words
First appeared in Marie Claire Magazine on December
10, 2014. www.marieclaire.com
*Copyright granted by Julia Scheeres
Guest Blogger Julia Scheeres
For
Love Or Money
*Julia Scheeres wanted a
provider, but she fell in love with a man who earned way less than she hoped
and drove a beat-up pickup. The sex was great, but how much was true love
worth?
At the Berkeley café where we met,
Tim leaned on the table, his T-shirt riding up over his curved biceps. I've
always gone for swarthy types, and with his dark Irish eyes and widow's peak,
he was even sexier in person than in his online-dating profile photo. Unlike
other first dates who yammered on about themselves ad nauseam, Tim asked a lot
of questions. I took a sip of my cappuccino and fantasized about him lounging
in my breakfast nook, clad only in boxers. "Enough about me," I said.
"What's your line of work?"
"I'm a graduate student in American history," he said.
"I hope to teach someday." I put my cup down. Had he mentioned this
in his profile, I would have deleted his message instantly.
I know that might sound shallow,
but let me explain. My dad was a surgeon; my siblings and I grew up in a
three-story house in Indiana and attended private schools. My home life was
miserable, but money—or rather, the things money could buy—distracted me from
my despair. Counting down to our annual Florida vacation kept me afloat on the
bad days, as did making lists of everything I wanted for Christmas or buying a
new pair of boots. Money provided tangible relief when I felt overwhelmed by
the toxic emotions pulsing through our family. As I grew older, my measure of a
man became his salary and ability to provide the comfort that once fell to my
father.
Furthermore, as a writer—a
miserably low-paying profession—I'd always gravitated toward boyfriends with
pockets deep enough to cover our living expenses. I wanted a husband who could
subsidize my artistic ambitions, and a teacher-writer pairing seemed destined
for ruin, especially in the pricey San Francisco Bay Area.
When I met Tim, I was 35 and newly single after ending a long
relationship. My ex was handsome and gregarious and earned a hefty salary. We
were compatible in every area except one: sex. I craved it; he avoided it. We'd
started planning our wedding when I realized that, after six years of
initiating every sexual encounter with him, I didn't want to spend the rest of
my life with a man who wanted to be "cuddle buddies."
I joined a dating website and met a series of men. None were a
good match—too talkative, too egotistical, too jaded—until I met Tim. When he
followed me outside after that first date to say good-bye, I could feel his raw
maleness slinging horny arrows at me. "How about a hike Saturday?" he
asked. "Sure," I shrugged, figuring I'd explore our attraction until
a better candidate came along.
That Saturday, we followed a eucalyptus-lined
trail at a park and found we shared many interests: a love of Cormac McCarthy,
Spain, and hiking the Sierras.
For our third date, he invited me
to the symphony. I dressed in black silk and wore diamond hoops. My heart sank
when Tim pulled up in a dented pickup truck, and I hoped nobody saw me push
open the creaky door and step out when we reached the Civic Center.
But on the
drive back home, when he put his hand on my upper thigh and kept it there, I
couldn't wait to ask him inside. "One last drink?" I asked when we
reached my street. We sat on opposite sides of the sofa until he finally pulled
me onto his lap. He kissed me softly at first, and when he left a half-hour
later, I still wanted more. "Let's not rush this," he said.
The first time we slept together, it was sublime. Afterward, as
we stared at the ceiling in wonderment, we both acknowledged that it was the
best we'd ever had. Everything about him turned me on: his warm, broad chest;
the way he called me "doll"; how he always seemed to be happy.
But he
was still a penniless graduate student, and I grew irritated when he complained
about high menu prices or ordered the cheapest house red.
Financial security
became even more crucial a few weeks later, when I quit my job to work on my
first book. I had no idea whether I'd be able to sell it before my meager
savings evaporated. Tim's money worries only exacerbated my own.
At first Tim joked about our situation, but then he got fed up.
"Look, I'm 36. My biological clock is ticking," he said as we cuddled
post-sex one day. "I want a wife. I want kids." He accused me of
being a "situational feminist"—only interested in gender equality
when it benefited me. I knew he was right, but I turned away and refused to
continue the conversation. He broke up with me the next day.
Two weeks went by and I felt like I was going through
withdrawal. I didn't just miss the sex; I missed our friendship, our laughter,
our discussions of politics and literature. Somehow, quietly, I'd fallen in
love with him. I thought about my moneyed childhood and how unhappy and lonely
I was for much of it. What I craved as a girl was love, which Tim offered in
abundance.
I sent him a groveling e-mail. "Could we just meet for
coffee? We don't have to talk," I said. My heart felt sore from missing
him. My pulse quickened when he walked in. He told me he was dating a
classmate; I was furious that he'd moved on so quickly and stormed out in a fit
of jealousy. He trailed me to my car. "But you didn't want me," he
said, his voice almost breaking. Then: "I couldn't stand it anymore
because … I love you." Something relaxed inside me, and I buried my face
in his chest. I knew he was the best man for me, no matter how little money he
made.
With my commitment to Tim came a commitment to my career: I'd
need to work harder to afford our dreams of buying a house in a decent
neighborhood and taking vacations to Spain. Sometimes I feel a twinge of
jealousy when my friends who married rich talk about second homes in Tahoe.
That's the life my ex-fiancé offered me. But I also know the price many pay:
Their husbands work late, so the bulk of the child care and housework falls on
them. At our place, you'll find Tim cooking supper or dancing with the two
little girls we now have. And while living on a shoestring budget can be
stressful, we know of a fantastic tension reliever—one that deepens and renews
our relationship every time we do it.
Photograph Description And Copyright
Information
Photo 1
Marie Clarie web logo
Fair Use Under The United States
Copyright Law
Photo 2
Julia Scheeres
Copyright granted by Julia Scheeres
Photo 3
Caffe Mediterraneaum Storefront on
Telegraph Avneue in Berkeley, Califonria.
The Caffe is the self proclaimed creator of the Caffe Latte.
Photograph taken on 04 27 2009
Attributed to Surichkaa
Public Domain
Photo 4
Tim Rose
Copyright granted by Julia Scheeres
Photo 5
Family photo, Julia Scheeres bottom,
far right
Copyright granted by Julia Scheeres
Photo 6
Julia writing at the San Francisco
Grotto
Copyright granted by Julia Scheeres
Photo 8
Lover’s Lane in Presidio National Park
Web photograph Fair Use Under the
United States Copyright Law
Photoshopped by Christal Rice Cooper
Photo 9
Jacket cover of The Cormac McCarthy Journal
Fair Use Under the United States
Copyright Law
Photo 10
Julia Scheeres lived in this tiny flat
in Valencia, Spain across from a 12th century church in the early
1990s.
Copyright granted by Julia Scheeres
Photo 11
The Scheeres-Rose Family in the Sierras
June of 2014
Copyright granted by Julia Scheeres
Photo 12
The Berekely Symphony web photo
Fair Use Under the United States
Copyright Law
Photo 13
Photo 14
Baccio Bandinelli Belvedere’s Torso
Public Domain
Photoshopped by Christal Rice Cooper
Photo 15
1907 Painting
Attributed to Maga McClure
First published in McClure’s Magazine
in March of 1907
Fair Use Under the United States
Copyright Law
Photo 16
Jacket cover of Jesusland
Photo 17
Grey Line With Black, Blue, And Yellow
Attributed to Georgia O’Keeffe in 1923
Fair Use Under The United States
Copyright Law
Photo 18
Woman Crying
Gustav Klimt painting
Public Domain
Photo 19
Tim Rose and Julia Scheeres on their
wedding day.
Copyright granted by Julia Scheeres
Copyright granted by Julia Scheeres
Photo 20
Tim Rose/Julia Scheeres family
photograph
December of 2014
Copyright granted by Julia Scheeres
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