I am a twinkie. There. I said it. For obvious reasons, I don’t dwell on it. May December relationships inaugurate men as heroes and brand their playthings as twinkies. Unless of course the older is the women, then she’s called cougar. WTF? So we’re either nutrition deficit snack cakes or sexual predators. Nice.

The Mister is twenty-two years my senior. When I met him, I wasn’t thinking, “Cool, I’m going to bag an older guy who is more settled in his life.” I actually thought, “Cool, here is a guy who likes to screw with people’s heads as much as I do, maybe we can have a little fun together.” It never occurred to me, we would date, much less get married. I’ve have had plenty of successful, platonic relationships with men, so I honestly believed this relationship would be the same.

When I was still a twenty-something, I used to joke I didn’t want kids of my own, I just wanted to adopt a thirty-year-old to take care of me when I needed assistance changing my own diaper. Little did I know…

I fell for the Mister, and he had kids. When we started dating his kids were seventeen and twenty-one, and I was on the bleeding edge of twenty-five. Are you uncomfortable yet? I assure you, I was. It wasn’t what I bargained for, but I was was falling in love with a person who is considerate, compassionate, witty, and vibrant.

I didn’t meet his kids (is it really proper to use the word, “kids” when referring to peers?) until seven moths later. I didn’t push introductions, knowing it would be better when it was their idea. I wasn’t as concerned about the oldest, Big Brother, as he was beginning to establish his own life outside the family, but Baby Girl was still very close to Daddy.

The cliff’s notes version of the transition, is the Mister’s kids controlled the nature of the relationship (mine with them) from start to finish. It’s not easy handing over the power. From the beginning, I have made it a point to be available IF they needed me. I never crowded, or interfered (of course there have been a few times when I would have liked to). I gambled, and allowed them to establish the parameters of our relationship. I know it could have backfired, but nobody gives you a syllabus on managing this kind of crap. I believe relationships should be fluid, not fabricated or molested.

Here’s an explanation of the peculiar balance of our evolving relationship. A few months ago, the Mister and I had lunch with Big Brother and his Fiance. Fiance answered a phone call while we were waiting for our food to arrive. She was explaining to the other party that she was having lunch with Big Brother, Big Brother’s Father, and Big Brother’s step mother. Big Brother, Mister Hombre and myself took turns exchanging glances. The title of stepmother prompted it. In all the time I have been with the Mister, that phrase has never been uttered. I have always been referred to as Daddy’s wife or Ms Chica. The term, stepmother, didn’t fit our situation. Fiance noticed all of the glances being exchanged and got a little defensive about it, saying something along the lines of, “it doesn’t matter, I’m only talking to my sister.” The rest of us were chuckling at the awkwardness the concept.

After five years of marriage, I feel lucky to have relationships that aren’t antagonistic, don’t include yelling, don’t pivot upon being confrontational, and don’t make me feel like a twinkie.

Baby Girl is in love. She has been for a while. It was a hard won relationship, I won’t bore you with the history leading up to this moment, I don’t have enough wine, but there was a brief moment when I thought my heart might break too.

After month of fruitless labor, we managed to arrange dinner so Mister Hombre could meet The Suitor. Baby Girl was noticeably nervous. Two of the most important men in her life were about to meet for the first time…what if?

What if, proved to be the non-event. No awkward silences, no absurd attacks of foot and mouth disease. The Mister asked The Suitor lots of questions. Thankfully none were of the, “And just what are your intentions variety?”. They were mostly questions about The Suitor’s job, its long hours, and being on call.

After dinner, when we were preparing to leave, the Mister and Baby Girl excused themselves to visit the restroom. I waited with The Suitor and continued the small talk in the absence of the principles. When the Mister returned I excused myself. My motives were strictly practical (we had a two drive ahead of us). When I entered the restroom, Baby Girl was standing in front of the vanity. I told her The Suitor was great. Her face was flush, whether it was from excitement, wine, or amour, I couldn’t say.

She asked, me if I REALLY liked him. I assured her I did. Next she said something that completely surprised me. She told me what I thought really mattered to her. I felt humbled and speechless. The speechless part didn’t last very long. It’s odd describing how welcome I felt at that moment, because clearly the moment was hers. She was experiencing the same desire I felt in those early days dating her father. I told her it is important to me that both she and her brother are happy in their relationships.

We continued talking about The Suitor, Mister Hombre, the bliss of new love, and then she shocked me again. She told me it made her happy to see how happy her dad is with me. Wow. I know better than to look for validation. I don’t know if I can describe how awestruck I was to be hit between the eyes with it. It as a like that scene in As Good as it Gets when Jack Nicholson tells Helen Hunt, “You make me want to be a better man.” All this time, I felt like my relationship with his kids would be successful, if I was just tolerated.

Now I understand why women pee in pairs.