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I watched a friend love a man with all her heart. I watched a friend marry the man she loved. I watched a friend raise her children with this man and from where I stood - their love seemed impenetrable. I watched from a distance as my friends relationship weathered thru time and dreamed that one day I would be able to stand there and say I found a partner to stand by me for all those years and that we were each others rock in a storm. And then I listened as my friend told me she found someone new.
She asked - “Am I a bad person?” What could I say? I am no saint, I have stood one one side or another of this coin - so I said “no, it happens” fully understanding that from the outside looking in, things are often times very different. All the while, my image of this perfect love shattered around me. I do not judge my friends’ choice, be it one time or 10. I do not walk in her shoes or live in her life, but for that moment it made me question the very belief in the fabric that held together my own relationship.
“Am I wishing for the impossible?”
What I had yet to learn, though is that things are seldom as neat and tidy as that starry-eyed anecdote you share documentary-style on a couch. What I figured out over time is that almost always, when you hear those stories from married couples, there is a little poetic licences going on, a romantic spin, polished to a high shine over time. And unless you marry your high school sweetheart (and even sometimes then), there is usually a not-so-glorious back story. There are people and places and event that lead you to your final relationship, people and places and even that you’d prefer to forget or at least gloss over. in the end, you can slap a pretty label on it - like serendipity or fate. Or you can believe that it’s just the random way life unfolds. But no matter what you call it, it seems that every couple has two stories — the edited one to be shared from the couch and the unabridged version, best left alone.**
Every story has a beginning. Mine is not any more story book than the next, but if you were new to telling - then yes, the glossy abridged version can be quite romantic. But with most things the devil is in the details and so with time the imperfections in my relationship beginnings are revealed and a truer version of the comes out.
You see, once there was a man who loved me. I knew this beyond a shadow of a doubt. I never questioned his faith or loyalty - no matter how we were separated and we spent many months apart. What I also knew though, was that I was in love with the comfort of knowing ‘he loved me’ and not that “I loved him.” I can still remember thinking when I’d see our friends who argued or disagreed - how happy I was that he loved me and we NEVER acted that way. Never that was, until the day I fell in love (and no, I didn’t even know it).
We never argued because he wanted to make me happy. He wanted me to love him so he always conceded to my wants/wishes/demands and I - I was happy, so I took care of him how ever he needed. The day I finally met a man who stopped bending to my will, was the day I stopped believing in a fairytale ending and needed more. I needed to be told ‘no’ from time to time. I needed to be questioned when I said I wanted something. I needed to be challenged - not held back, not made to take care of you - but equally challenged to be more than just what I was.
On the surface, my relationship up till then had been picture perfect, but then I wanted more from him. I wanted that same push, that same exhilaration, that same energy and so I fought. I pushed buttons, I caused fights, I provoked …. no reaction…and I pulled away and shut down. Months went by and on the surface things were just as smooth as ever, but underneath the current that flowed was so strong it would suck you under and not let you surface.
I drove him away
