Sex

Normal? Normal! About the only thing in my life I want described as normal is a pap smear. Certainly the word had rarely, if ever, crept into my relationship vernacular. There's been "unhealthy" and "insane" and "toxic," but never this seemingly offensive "normal" that she now spoke of.

At a stage in life when even my staunchest female holdouts have succumbed to marriage proposals, I'm still petrified of drifting anywhere near normalcy in my relationships. Last week I broke into a cold sweat when I found myself gripping a grocery cart and worrying about missing Mad Men.

"Are you about to have a seizure?" The Girl asked.

"Just back away from the carriage," I warned, surveying my midsection to make sure I wasn't wearing a fanny pack.

The problem, I've realized, is perhaps not such a fear of normalcy, but such a dearth of drama. Drama - it is that rage-inducing emotional rollercoaster that we all wait in line to ride, dreading the nausea of its peaks and dips only to queue up and have another go at it. And it has plagued nearly every one of my relationships for the last decade. While I've tended to blame my melodramatic counterparts for its creation, I'm now realizing that drama only functions in tandem. You are either creating it or sustaining it by your actions.

"Do you think you might be ... addicted to it?" one friend asked with trepidation.

Me? Addicted to drama? God no! I hate drama. (Note: the previous utterance is usually the first sign that you like drama.) But it has been the sustenance in my relationship diet for so many years that I'm now weaning myself off it like Kirstie Alley with a whoopee pie. And the truth is, I might actually miss it. If I don't go through phases of hating you so intensely, how will I ever measure my love?

So was my friend right? Am I a drama junkie? And why do I sound like Carrie Bradshaw right now?

In researching the traits of a true drama addict, I sadly had to accept that I possessed many, if not all of them. Drawn to chaotic, unstable people. Check. Losing sight of life goals because of the focus on your toxic relationship. Check. Dreaming of killing your lover in her sleep and then being the saddest one at the funeral. Check.

So rather than hiding my ailment, I confessed to The Girl. I dredged up all the damaging tales of arrests and fights and gross infidelities, the late-night getaways and screaming matches and text-message battles, the tears and the stress and the insecurities. And I swore that I Wanted To Change.

"Wow," she said, dumbfounded. "Now I'm worried that I might bore you."

I stroked her hair and reassured her. "You will," I said.

Then I clicked on the television, tuned in to Mad Men, and got my vicarious fix of womanizing, binge drinking, and meaningless sex. Thank god for Don Draper.

Hey, if I'm going to let go of my own drama, I can at least indulge in everyone else's like the rest of you "normal" folk do.

- Jeannie Greeley
Jeannie Greeley is a freelance writer with no baby, no mama, and no more drama. She can be reached at jeannieg@comcast.net.