Sally: She works in his office. She's a paralegal. Her name is Kimberly. He just met her... She's supposed to be his transitional person, she's not supposed to be the one. All this time I've been saying that he didn't want to get married. But, the truth is, he didn't want to marry me. He didn't love me.
Harry: If you could take him back right now, would you?
Sally: No. But why didn't he want to marry me? What's the matter with me?
Harry: Nothing.
Sally: I'm difficult.
Harry: You're challenging.
Sally: I'm too structured, I'm completely closed off.
Harry: But in a good way.
Sally: No, no, no, I drove him away. And I'm gonna be forty.
Harry: When?
Sally: Someday.
Harry: In eight years.
Sally: But it's there. It's just sitting there, like this big dead end. And it's not the same for men. Charlie Chaplin had babies when he was 73.
Harry: Yeah, but he was too old to pick them up.
It’s one of those things that happen to other people. But, this time, it’s happening to me.
My ex is marrying someone else. The girl he dated when we broke up briefly who, he shortly thereafter, dumped to get back together with me and live with me for over a year. This is the same girl who, when he moved back into my house, he told me was ‘boring’ and ‘cookie cutter’ and ‘just not YOU.’
But, after all is said and done, she is the chosen one.
The one with the ring. Who gets to wear the white dress in front of all his family and friends. A potential happy union and certainly a delightful ring selection likely inspired by several trips to the jewelry store with ME. I know a good setting when I see one.
What was my role in all this? Educator? Teacher? Pro bono love advocate?
And what of his friends I cared about---who, in turn, cared about me? I saw it in their faces when they came over to “our” place all those times; I felt it in their sarcasm. Sarcasm can be as cruel as it can be loving. And I grew to love that. They were like family. A family you choose.
God (or Science) only knows.
I don’t want him back. I really don’t. For numerous reasons.
So why does it hurt so much?
Because I learned this thing along the way called unconditional love.
It’s this really cool concept that requires a great deal of life experience, a magnanimous heart, and a shitload of self-delusion.
Problem is, I believed in it. Recently, my very smart and very married friend Chris told me the secret (listen up friends)…he told me that he has the SECRET to long lasting love.
Here’s how it works: you love someone, yes. You have all this initial passion that leads to romantic overtones, overtures, undertones, and nuances. For a couple of years. And then, one day, you wake up, and there’s the real person. And there’s the real you. You and them. In the flesh. And not the romantic version. The flawed one.
What the mature person, oh thee of the truly committed mind and non-adulterous heart, does is: they suck back the relationship Kool Aid. And, in turn, their partner does, too. It’s basically saying: this ain’t perfect, oh hell no, not by a long shot, but you know what, it’s what I got, it’s what we got and it’s OURS. And that, by the very token of its steadfastness and shared experience, is worth something. In fact, it’s worth a lot. So you make not a commitment to another person but, instead, you make a commitment to the thing you both made: an enduring bond. And this time, it’s a bond for life. And, no no no, it is not easy.
But when you commit to the thing rather than the person, in a way it makes it easier. It’s not like you can skip out on your mortgage (actually these days you probably can) or just drop off your car at the dealer because you’re “tired of it,” you’re in it for the whole endurance race. When it looks like crap and needs brakes, tires, a new windshield, you fix it, you don’t just trade it in for something brand new. You endure.
I get that. Or should I say I finally got that. I didn’t know what unconditional love was until I experienced it for myself. And while I didn’t get unconditional love in return, I’m glad I had the ability to give it. It taught me a lot about my own heart. My own endurance. Like anything in life that’s worth doing, your ability to stick with it even when it’s no fun is where it’s at. Akin, in its simplest form, to a road race with hills (not likely in Florida), a 6am spinning class, a boring dinner party with good people, whatever, once it’s over, you’re always glad you showed up. Because, somehow, the sacrifice was all worth it.
I’ve started to think that the longer we live, the more opportunities we have to learn. And the more we learn, the more we grow and change. And are we really supposed to be married once and only once considering how long life is and how much we change?
My step-grandmother died this week at 101. She hung in there with her second husband, 10 years her junior, all these years. If nothing else, choosing a man younger than herself was one area about her choices that resonated with me. Not that I’ve intentionally chosen younger people, it’s just been my path.
I don’t have any definitive answers. No one does. And the person who claims that any relationship is easy—work, friendship, or love---is a moron I’d rather not know.
For the time being, I welcome any input. For those of you I know who have those long term relationships that last and last without any sort of formal title and those of you who do---and the rest of us who wrestle with love on varying terms---I salute you for realizing there is no canned solution. Nor should we look for one. I was married once. I did it for the wrong reasons (we were the right age, our families knew each other, we’d been dating long enough, etc.). And now, even if I have all the right reasons, I still wonder.
No matter what you do, I think my friend Chris has a valid point. It’s not so much about “the one” after a certain point, it’s more about “the thing” you’re doing. I think there’s something pretty honorable in that. And for my wonderful friends who’ve chosen to not get married but to still remain ‘committed,’ they have that special thing, that exterior indefinable solidarity that is so inspiring. You know who you are D. and S. Coupledom, by today’s standards, is a thing apart. It takes either youthful exuberance and fearlessness or infinitely wise and time-tested endurance. Neither is a guarantee for success. But if I had money on one, it’d be the time-tested endurance. I like a challenge. I like knowing what I’m in for, and I can handle the pain if I know it’ll be worth it in the end. Even if that ‘end’ means I only did it for the experience. And I’d like to think that you get to a point in life where experience, unto itself, is what brings the most richness and purpose. Regardless of the outcome.
