He was sweet though, and we remain friends still, to this day. But, there is something I never told him that might make him sad. I never, not even for one second, thought I’d marry him. Even though I was only eighteen and couldn’t have possibly understood how much life I had ahead of me, I knew I would understand it someday. I knew I was too young to have found my “soul mate,” or whatever other gagging term people use to describe their significant other.
He didn’t think that, though. He thought we were fated. (Enter whimsical music). The way he would describe it: “I took one look at you and I knew we were twin souls who had once been torn apart and had been seeking wholeness ever since.” Then he’d probably say some shit like: “Now our souls are one and I love you more than the air I breathe.”
(Screeching halt to music).
Ugh. Gag me. Look, you hopeless romantics. You have a subconscious community endeared to your cute, sensitive ways; you’re amorous brethren are set and ready to indoctrinate the next round of people who ignore what’s obviously ephemeral. I’m not a fan, clearly, and I’m here to give you a little advice. I don’t usually do this but, whatever, it’s Christmas:
If when you met your girlfriend/boyfriend they still had braces on, they’re probably not your soul mate.
But, seriously. Why in the world would people want to marry their high school sweetheart anyway? I mean, statistically it’s been proven, they’re not happy. Besides, there is that delightful period I refer to as, The College Years. Granted, they don’t have to be spent, literally, in college. I just mean that period of time in ones' life. When I think back on my time spent at Kent State, I don’t like to remember papers I wrote or grades I received. I like to think of all the parties I went to; all the guys I met; of all the single, unattached fun I had.(Clever euphemism)
So, when I think of boyfriend #1, yes, I do recall the fun we had singing Mary Chapin Carpenter’s Passion and Kisses at the top of our lungs while riding down the street in his car. But what I remember most, is how much I’ve done since then. So, who says pessimistic realists can’t be happy? I like my perspective; I own it.
Boyfriend #2
I, literally,hardly remember anything about this guy. Maybe this shouldn’t make him important but I think it still does and I’ll show you why.
#2 was a bit older than me. He was, maybe, five years older or something. Like I said, I don’t really remember. He was good looking, until he spoke. I don’t remember a single conversation we had in the year—maybe two—we were together, but I do remember a conversation he had with my friend.
All of my high school friends had gathered, sometime after we graduated, to play cards and hang out. I brought #2. To be clear, I never entertained any ideas about us being star crossed lovers, or anything. I just brought him because, well, hell, why not?
My friends began to engage him in polite conversation. It was all mundane, trite small talk up until he used the word fixin in a sentence. Yep, fixin, in its verb form. I was watching my friend react. She blinked hard once and an indecipherable, Mona Lisa smile came on her face. She was polite and let it go, but I knew already what she had just learned. He was temporary. I don’t remember where he was born or what his parents were like;m what his middle name was; what music he listened to. All I remember is that he was wrong for me and my friend knew it instantly.
That’s why #2 is important. He taught me to trust my friends and family. Now, I’m not talking about psychotic parents who don’t think anyone is good enough for their baby. Don’t listen to them. I’m talking about kind, level headed loved ones who know you really well. They probably know before you do whether your relationship is going to last.
Needles to say, I broke it off with #2. I don’t remember how I did it but I imagine I said something like, “it’s not you it’s me . . . I hope we can still be friends,” or, “I’ll never forget you.”
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