11..., Lifestyle

11… Signs I Have A Love-Hate Relationship With Military [Dudes]

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I can steal their camis and pose for cute pictures.
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Our very first ball together.

 

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Sending him to bootcamp in October 2013.

 

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The first moment I saw him on Family Day.

 

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Second ball!
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The first time we Skyped after boocamp… I cried.
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Third ball! (My camera has gotten better.)

The military has been a huge part of my life for seven years. I dated a couple military guys before that, but I was flingin’ it on vacation. I don’t know if I love to hate them or hate to love them. Either way, the two men in my life are an active Marine and a medically retired Marine. So my life revolves around base, VA, and acronyms. It’s a part of their lives, so it’s a part of my life.

People think I have a thing for military dudes, particularly Marines. Actually, I have actively avoided military guys, but the best men in my life are serving or have served. When Alex and I met, he said he wanted to serve after graduating college. I said, “Cool, then we’ll be friends when that happens. I’m not doing a military relationship.” Well, that worked out well… Fast forward seven years to my second big relationship. The only reason I started dating Dylan was because he was out of the military. 

It’s a hard life. There are perks, but it’s not a Nicholas Sparks novel. The only reason the military is a part of my life: love. There is absolutely nothing else that could convince me to be in a military relationship. 

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This is my thinking hat, it protects my good ideas!
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This only completely irritated him.
  1. Balls!!! No, I don’t mean testicles. The Marine Corps Birthday Ball is my favorite thing about the military. No exaggeration. Dressing up in a floor length dress, doing my hair and makeup, seeing my dude decked out in his Blues. Also dancing and cake. It’s all the good stuff of a wedding without having to sit through the ceremony! I’ve been to three: 2014, 2015, 2017. The 2018 ball was cancelled for Alex’s unit due to his deployment schedule. Bummer.
  2. Bootcamp. It SUCKS. Yeah it sucks for them, but they signed up for it. I just accidentally loved the wrong (right?) (inconvenient!) dude. Three months of no contact. Except letters. When you’ve spent three years being in a live-in, joint bank account, own cars, have bills kind of relationship, those three months are killer. Going from sleeping next to him every night to not having my support system anymore was ridiculously hard. I wrote tons and tons and tons of letters, but it’s not the same. Everything was on me. Letters couldn’t solve problems, pay bills, talk to his parents, buy plane tickets, make me tea when I’m sick, call the insurance after a car accident, or hold me when it was all too much. All of it alone, and it was rough. I’d never had to do it all alone; he had always been there to help. I made my best friend sleep in bed with me a lot during those three months because the bed was empty. Or I slept on the couch, so I didn’t have to be in our bed alone. It was also right in the middle of my senior year in college and over all my favorite holidays. Bootcamp sucketh. 
  3. Family Day. Bootcamp sucks, but Family Day is the day before they graduate when you get to see them for the first time. There is so much emotion. It felt like everyone was vibrating with excitement. Stretching to see their Marine. Whispering, giggling, jumping, running. There was an intensity to those moments I’ve never felt before or after. The day was a little different for us because Alex and I were in a completely different phase of our lives than almost all of the other Marines. His peers were mostly eighteen and just out of high school. The parents were over the moon to see their newly minted Marines because they had just spent eighteen years living with them 24/7. The girlfriends were equally excited, but it was strange because they were so young. Many were still in high school. Not to diminish an eighteen year old love story, but it’s not the same as living with and depending on someone for years. We’d been in a relationship for just about as long as they’d been in high school. Alex and I were old in comparison. We had years on them as individuals and as a couple, and we had life experiences they didn’t have yet. Alex’s parents were excited to see him, but they were used to going months without being around him, at that point. I had to wait longer than others to see him because I was on my very painful period. I’d been locked in the bathroom with my best friend throwing up for three hours by the time he was released. When I saw him, it was more than emotional for me because I was suddenly not alone anymore. Everything I had been dealing with loosened, and I couldn’t stop crying. Not to mention, an exorbitant amount of menstrual pain didn’t help the situation. 
  4. Uniforms “Women love a man in uniform.” I think that saying is true. The Marine uniform can turn an eh looking dude into a Heeeyyyy looking dude. Now if the guy is already attractive, hello! I’m in the minority, I love the Alphas. They’re old timey and a panty dropper for me. Just kidding, I’m totes a virgin, y’all…
  5. The VA I haven’t had a good experience with the VA yet. Veterans Affairs helps vets with life. It is particularly important to disabled and retired vets. Considering I live with and date a medically retired Marine, I’ve spent a good amount of time dealing with their fuck ups, filing paper work, and sitting in the VA hospital. I’m super opinionated about the VA. Dylan broke his back on the job as a Marine. His career was cut short; he wanted to be a lifer. His life was changed for the worse when he was 21. He’s had five back surgeries, almost died, lives with chronic pain, has a TBI, and a ton of other stuff. He’s kind of a mess; thank you USMC. The VA has tried fuck him and take away his benefits a few times. He’s gone months without getting paid because fuck if I know. At one point, we couldn’t buy groceries because all my money and our savings had gone to paying rent and bills because the VA didn’t pay him for five months. When someone volunteers their body, their mind, and their life for this country, the least we can do is take care of them when shit hits the fan. If you feel differently, fuck you. 
  6. Humor There’s a certain kind of humor almost all military guys have in common. It’s dark and sexually fluid and biting and observational and crude and raunchy and pretty much completely rude. It’s also spot on with my sense of humor, so I love hanging out around military guys. Alex’s good friend in the military calls me Shovel Face, which is my fault because I introduced myself as Shovel Face. Take that as you will. I should have known better.
  7. Military Life This is something I understand but don’t always (ever) appreciate. It’s not a normal job. It’s not a 9 to 5. It’s a life. It is all consuming. It’s not just the service member, their dependents are affected too. They dictate everything, which is good and bad. There’s a dress code and code of conduct and rules and regulations and IDs and so much. Even as a MilSO, there are still rules I have to follow and things I can and cannot wear on base. I get it. I’ll follow the rules. I just don’t like being told what to do or what I can’t wear. Vacations or visits in the military can be hard to plan and execute because orders might not come through, things might change, any number of things can happen. It’s a little volatile. You never know for sure until it’s done. I went to visit Alex for a long weekend. We spent 36 hours together, and he was called on a DET. So I spent the other 48 hours sitting on the beach in November and enjoying the hotel room. It was a huge let down. 
  8. Marine Bases Merriam-Webster dictionary definition 1a: of or relating to the sea. Water. Ocean. My favorite. Marine bases are by the water, usually. 29 Palms, I’m looking at you. Alex was stationed at MCAS New River his entire enlistment. He was on the water. Beaches galore. Thank you, find me in a swimsuit. 
  9. Acronyms Hello acronyms. They’re everywhere. There’s an acronym for everything. I’m a MilSO, which stands for Military Significant Other. I understand them far better than civilians and even some military wives, but there are some that fly right over my head. It’s part of the life. I always feel a little cool using them, which is stupid. 
  10. Letters I am a letter writer. I have been writing Alex letters through bootcamp, MOS school, deployments, and just because. I understand how much those letters mean, especially during bootcamp and deployments. When I was delayed at the Charlotte Airport, I met Chad. He’s a nice kid going into his junior year at Mizzou. We chatted VERY briefly. Long enough to find out he was on his way to bootcamp. I gave him the same advice I’ve given other boots, “It’s a game you can’t win. Just think of it as a game.” He did not look consoled, so I continued, “I know it sounds awful, but just knowing that no matter what you do you’re wrong will make it a LOT easier. When you feel like you’re failing, you’re doing it just right!” As I was about to board, I ran back and asked if he had people writing him letters. He said, “Yes. Two maybe three.” I asked if he wanted another person to write to him. He said sure, so I gave him my phone number in case he could get me his address. He did! So now, I’m writing him letters.
  11. Deployments Honestly this is kind of better than bootcamp but also infinitely worse. Bootcamp sucks because you can’t communicate with them, but it’s only three months. Also, death and maiming isn’t on the table. Alex and I have been through three. The first was to Japan in 2015. In 2016, he was back in Japan and did a short MEU visiting The Philippines, Hong Kong, and other places; I don’t remember. He came home from his last deployment in July, which was a MEU in the Mediterranean and elsewhere. His deployments were mostly safe, but they’re still nerve wracking. Deployments are terrifying for those of us at home. I worried constantly. (Read a post about that here.) The internet is a wonderful thing, but you still can’t see or be with them. Also the time difference can be drastic. At one point, I would set my alarm for 4:15 in the morning just to hear his voice for ten minutes. Although, on MEUs, there’s this thing called River City. River City strikes suddenly without warning. There is no way to confirm it until it’s over. It’s where communication is cut completely. Nothing in and out of the ship except letters, which can take months to get there. (I sent a letter in February, he got it in May. Helpful.) You’ll go from exchanging emails every day or even every few hours, to nothing. Did he die? Does he hate me suddenly? Did I say something? Has he decided to dive into his up-until-right-this-moment latent homosexuality? Have I gotten too old for him? He’s definitely dead. Then, three weeks and five days later, he picks up the email chain right where it left off. No news is good news, people. Since it was my third deployment and ninth year with him, I wasn’t terribly worried when River City struck. Although, I’m nearing thirty, so it’s probably time to get a newer edition. Deployments are a hate-hate relationship.

bisous und обьятий,
RaeAnna

In My Own Words, Lifestyle

Homecoming

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Welcoming Alex home with my sign. | Dress | Shoes | Watch | Sunglasses | Earrings |
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Happy hugs in front of his helicopter du jour. | Dress |
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Marines lining up ready to see their families.

No, I’m not in high school or college. I did celebrate Homecoming a week ago. By this point in your life, you’ve probably seen a movie or a YouTube video showing a military person (probably man because patriarchy) come home from deployment or war – technically deployment just less cushy and more PTSD inducing. There are lots of flags, running, hugs, kisses, and happy tears. It’s all very realistic. 

This deployment was never actually supposed to happen because he was supposed to get out of the military last October. Oh the military. You never know what’s going to happen until it’s already happened. Alex extended another year to go on this one. His two previous were to Japan and a bit of time on a boat floating around Asian countries. This one took him on a boat around the Mediterranean and an unplanned adventure in the Iranian neighborhood. With Flaming Hot Cheeto in office, it’s not exactly a time you want your loved one deployed in a less than friendly neighborhood. Six years. Three deployments. This was my first homecoming. Due to poverty, scheduling, and a lack of communication on not my part, I’d never been able to welcome Alex home with a cliché sign and a hug. 

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Yes that is a dinosaur behind us. | Dress | Shoes | Earrings | Watch |

Alex came home from his last deployment a week ago. I was waiting with a very me sign and a very big hug. It was not his longest deployment [upon Alex reading this: it was the longest. I guess I missed him less this time or I’m used to him being gone or it didn’t seem as long because we were able to talk more than any of the other deployments], but it was the most stressful, for me. Although, they are all stressful if I’m being honest. 

As in everything military related, there is a lot of hurry up and wait, which is the military’s unofficial motto, by the way; I should figure out what that is in Latin. Hurry up and wait all the way up until you hold them. 

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Alex’s helicopter as we wait and wait and wait to actually see them.

Homecoming is an emotional thing for families. I can’t explain to you what having someone deployed is like except it feels like your heart is torn in two, and one piece is somewhere in the world. You wait on phone calls and emails. You wait and wait and wait. Then the day comes when they come home. Make a sign (please make it original, I will judge you). Dress up. Pop a mint in your mouth because it has been seven months. Huddle with hundreds of other people in a hanger in 97 degree weather waiting to watch the helicopters come over the horizon. The room vibrates with anticipation and love and anxiety. The Marines corralling the families dictate where the boundaries are and say, “If you step over this line, you could die.” Terrifying to children and some adults, while also being completely overdramatic. You wait and laugh and chat and don’t step over the line. The glint on the horizon… just a bug. A glint on the horizon… a helicopter. Just kidding, not the helicopter. Is there time for a bathroom break? If you run fast. Don’t run! Wait. Jostle. A roar goes up. Helicopters are on the horizon. People scream and cry and wait. The helicopters fly over in a V formation. Look for the one your Marine is on. They land. You can see your Marine. Wait. They gather on the flightline and “march” towards us with as little panache as very tired Marines can muster. The loud speaker says an unknowable something. People rush forward over the line separating alive and possible death. No one dies. Some find each other immediately; others take awhile. After hugs and kisses and I missed yous and I love yous, Marines play a rousing game of where the fuck is my stuff? Because it is all piled into neat lines, but it’s government issued, so it all looks the same. Stuff is located. Buy a tshirt. Everyone carries something making your way to the car. Wait some more in the parking garage. Freedom. They’re home. 

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Three minutes in and I’m already goofing off. | Dress | Shoes | Earrings | Watch | Sunglasses |

I want this to be more emotionally charged than it is. But it’s not going to be. I can’t get sad or weepy or nitty-gritty honest about homecoming or this deployment because I’m not in that headspace. I don’t foresee myself being in that headspace in the near future. If you want something real and emotionally charged click here and read my post about military movies and my lack of composure watching them. 

I’m happy Alex is home. I’m happy he’s not dead. The likelihood he would die on the deployment was low, but you never really breathe easily when they’re away. I can breathe easily again. I’m sleeping better, which is to say as shitty as usual when Alex isn’t deployed. Deployments are hard. They suck. It’s emotional to have them deploy and emotional to have them come home. The interim is equally emotional. I think I’m tapped out on emotion right now, so this post is lackluster. I told Alex I had nothing interesting to write because he was lackluster, which is obviously not the case. No one spends six years loving a person in the military at a distance through deployments, deaths and illnesses, graduations and birthdays, anniversaries and holidays, normal days and hard days, when the one person you want by your side can’t be there. 

This is not a life I would have chosen, but I did choose to love him. I loved him before the military. I loved him through the military. I will love him after the military.

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Happy to have him home!!!
In My Own Words, Lifestyle

Military Movies

 

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I don’t crumble at much. Military movies make me crumble. I wasn’t always that way; they never used to affect me at all. When Alex started the enlistment process, I started to look at them differently. Up until that point, they were history, other people’s lives. Once the military started to creep into the edges of my life, military movies became the embodiment of my greatest fears. I’ve barely begun writing this and tears are streaming down my face. Having to think about this for longer than a moment feels like my lungs are collapsing on themselves.

The thing I fear most in this world is losing Alex. It’s the one thing that I don’t think I would ever recover from. I am genuinely uninterested in a world he does not exist in.

He left for bootcamp five and a half years ago. Since the day I stood waiving as his bus drove away, I have worried. I have lived with a deeply rooted fear that the last time I saw him will be the last time I see him. War movies are the worst case scenario, but he’s in the military. It’s a scenario planted solidly in the plausible. And in the political climate we live in, it feels like anything is possible. Things move slowly and wish-washy in the military, until they don’t. Then, they move incredibly fast. “Surprise! You’re going on a DET tomorrow for two weeks.” You never know for sure until it’s happening.  

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The fear worsens when he’s deployed. I’m lucky. I am so incredibly lucky. I have never forgotten that fact. He’s been deployed to really cushy areas. He’s on his third deployment. Hopefully his last. Even in the cushy areas, there are so many unknowns. Often times, I will go weeks and even months without hearing anything from him. More often than not, I don’t hear about things until he’s home. Let’s be honest, I don’t really know when he’s coming home until a week or two before. I once found out he was home when he called to tell me he’d arrived. We’ve missed Christmases and birthdays and celebrations for almost six years. I don’t care as long as he comes home. During his first deployment to Japan, there was a pretty awful tsunami, which they had to evacuate for. I found out about the storm from my best friend, who was watching the news. I didn’t learn about the evacuation until eight months after he was home from another MilSO. At the time, it was terrifying. They had no power, so no way to communicate. He was fine having a grown-man slumber party with his buddies in the barracks. But human nature takes us to the darkest, deepest recesses of our minds. I’m very much an Eeyore, so this has been a rough five and a half years in my dark, deep recess.

It’s hard not to worry when their job description includes a weapon. It’s one thing to go shooting in Grandma and Grandpa’s pasture with your dad’s childhood rifle. And a completely different thing to be issued a gun. They are trained. They practice. They aim. They breathe. In case someday they have to shoot. I am terrified of that day because it means someone else is aiming too. War movies remind me of this. They’re all guns ablaze, awesome explosions, a clear enemy, a clear hero. War isn’t that. It’s not that at all. It’s not for entertainment. War is terrifying. War is people against people, who all think they’re right. They’re all just fighting for the people they love at home. They’re young. They’re so young. Alex went in at 24, and that was considered “ancient.” Most kids go in at 18 on their first breath of freedom. It’s too young to die.   

War movies mostly show the military side of things in the thick of it. There’s more to it. There are the families. There is the after. I remember watching American Sniper when it came out. The scene where he’s on the phone with his pregnant wife, and she hears the gun fire on the other side of the world before the line cuts out. She crumpled. I crumpled. Alex was deployed at the time. I can’t imagine. I don’t want to imagine. That scene was one of the hardest for me to watch. Amy Schumer’s character in Thank You For Your Service is still my favorite of her performances. She donated her paycheck to TAPS and Fisher House because some people’s fears come true, and their service members don’t come home or come home forever changed. Us at home. We have stories. We have lives that keep going, but there’s a part of us pausing. Waiting to breath until the next email or phone call or hug. Worry. I’m good at worrying. Every time there’s an unfamiliar phone number from a distant place. Every day I don’t see his name in my inbox. Every single moment there is silence, there is an ache waiting to know he’s ok.

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Military movies put my fears on a big screen. They show all the crap, I don’t want to think about as a possibility. I don’t want to think about his death. What about mine? The military dictates my life in a way, but it dictates every part of Alex’s. They are away from us. They don’t know what’s going on at home. When I was 24, I was in the hospital for a long time in total organ failure. I was dying. The doctors told me to prepare myself and those I loved. Alex wasn’t deployed, but he couldn’t come. I didn’t know if I would live or die. I didn’t know if I would ever see him again. He knew I was sick and called as much as he could. I wasn’t able to communicate well, so I couldn’t tell him the extent of how sick I was. I also knew he couldn’t come, so I didn’t tell him how sick I was because it wasn’t going to change anything. I wasn’t going to make him worry. I remember laying in the hospital bed, and all I wanted was to hold his hand one more time. I would have given anything for him to be there. I was too sick for many tears to come, so I closed my eyes and prayed to a God I don’t believe in. To this day, it is one of the most painful times to recall because I needed him. He couldn’t be there. I wasn’t worried, but I was scared.

Alex works on helicopters. He’s on a boat. He’s somewhere in the world in the ocean. The likelihood he will ever have a gun pointed at him is pretty low. I am lucky. I am so lucky. Accidents happen. I know of so many cases where flukes happen and lives are ruined, ended. (I live with a life and body ruined by a fluke that happened one day on base in Jacksonville, North Carolina because of a helicopter. But that’s a story for another day.) Bad things can happen to anyone anywhere. The military just magnitizes that fear. Those men and women sign up willing to risk their lives. That is honorable and noble. They have my respect and support. The people who love them stand by hoping to never get the call. Service men and women may be willing to give the ultimate sacrifice, but I am not. I am not willing to sacrifice Alex.

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