A few weeks ago, I was filling out yet another form for the Endless Visa Application (EVA), which asked me to list all countries I have visited in the past 10 years and in which year. This form is usually reserved for men aged 25 - 40 (prime terrorist age, methinks theythink) but the London US embassy apparently thinks all London applicants are potential terrorists, and asks everyone to complete it.
At first I panicked. While I could easily list all countries I have visited since I was 16, how could I remember when I'd visited them? I travel to Europe more frequently than I go to the North of England (Europe being far prettier, with more intelligible accents and the nearest Greggs at least a Channel's length away) and being a fully-paid member of the E.U. , I don't get reminder-stamps in my passport.
So there I was busy panicking, emailing family and friends to see whether they could help me remember how old I was that time we went to France and found a mouse in the cupboard or the time we drove to Italy and Dad drove on the wrong side of the road on the dual carriage way...and then I realised an infallible way of remembering. All I had to do was envisage the holiday and recall which boyfriend / love-interest I was missing at the time. In Germany summer of 2000 I was exchanging music lyrics with the first...by France October 2000 we'd just got together. Germany 2001 we'd been dating for a year and I was writing lakeside love-postcards. 2002 he was collecting my A-level results for me while I sat pool-side in Italy. Then there was university, a tearful breakup and then we're on to meeting Jeremy in Italy, travelling with Jeremy to Germany, to Ireland, missing Jeremy in Lanzarote... you get the picture? Basically the whole of my adult life can be plotted according to which man I was dating / in love / obsessed with at the time.
Is that worrying? Throw into the mix that I'm moving countries (for the second time) because of a man and one might be forgiven for concluding that my life is dictated by men. Is there a problem...maybe I should rethink the whole thing, give back the diamond ring and spend some time 'finding' myself.... Nah.
I like my ring too much.
Also, there is actually a positive to long distance relationships. Not all long distance relationships, I hasten to add - if you're considering one, run away, run away now - but for Jeremy and I, the distance provided me the space I needed to grow and develop as a person. We got together when I was just 19 and had I gone directly from university to living together to marriage, I fear I'd never have had the courage to declare Myself.
In moving back to the U.K. I was able to experience self sufficiency (I wasn't very good at it - I've only just emerged from my overdraft, and that's because of my magnanimous friends and their couches), find my feet in my chosen profession and experiment with cooking away from Jeremy's critical assistance (he has a habit of standing by me as I cook, asking 'helpful' questions such as 'do you need the gas up that high?' 'are you going to rinse that?' 'does that need to be chopped finer?'). So that now when we move in together, I have my own way of doing things. It might make the transition slightly bumpier - we're both going to be fighting to do the cooking - but it will make it more interesting and we'll be able to form a partnership of equals, rather than Jeremy leading the way and me acquiescing.
Ultimately, while it's a bit annoying that my whole adult history can be plotted according to men, it's a very useful tracking device and without it I'd never have been able to fill in form DS-157 Supplemental Nonimmigrant Visa Application. So yes, I'll admit I'm a pitiful example of the 'modern' woman. I'm not about to burn my bra (although if I did no one would notice)and I doubt Grazia's about to issue me with any independence awards. But I'm ok with that. All I need now is for Jeremy to stop being such a good feminist and to start assuming my weakness when I'm carrying heavy bags / approaching doors / walking home in the rain when he has a perfectly good car just waiting to pick me up...
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