When Exes Get Married, But Not to You
I think we are selfish, delusional creatures.
We often like to believe the people we’ve shared romantic relationships with join monasteries, convents, or the circus, or move to small towns, eat organic food they’ve learned to grow themselves and grow dreads or shave off all their hair after your relationship has ended.
Because we were the best thing to show up in their lackluster lives, prior to our arrival.
Your exes date other people. Some who look better or look worse, but cook better or just share more of the same interests, and then it happens.
They get married.
Now if you get married first, it doesn’t seem so bad.
You’re in the glow of all that you’ve got going on and you only have eyes for your betrothed.
But when your exes get hitched there’s an odd feeling of jealousy and a whole lot of going down memory lane.
So far one ex did get married several years ago. Now he’s divorced. We have discussed this in a couple of strange posts about his odd return.
Another ex, who I actually still consider a friend and a person I want to be happy is on his way down the aisle in about another month.
We didn’t split because we didn’t love each other anymore or that we even had problems. We split because long distance was too difficult and our career paths at the time gave us no choice but to be a part for what seemed to be an indefinite period of time. It was too soon in both of our careers for one person to say, no problem I’ll stay with you, or I’ll move wherever you go, because a year later, someone was probably going to have to move again to chase the dream.
I thought of this ex recently, because I did get to see him briefly last year. During our encounter we talked about the things we’d gone through and I was proud of him. He turned out to be the man I knew he was going to be.
I had satisfaction in being right.
But it did sting a bit that someone else was going to take the apples, make apple sauce, launch an apple sauce blog, and become the biggest apple farm in the United States, when I simply had a seed and some water.
I will totally not take the credit for his success, but I was and still am a big supporter. The point is, this is the one time I saw potential in someone and years later, I was totally correct.
Our relationship was fun. We were friends. We could crack jokes and be silly and being with him was like wearing my favorite college sweatshirt. Comfortable. He understood me in a way that most didn’t especially because we shared the same profession. We liked the same music and television shows and would spend entire evenings quoting lines from our favorite comedians.
He came from a good, solid family. With good, solid values. He knew how to navigate barbeques in the hood, and be the only black guy with a bunch of friends at a hockey game. He did both comfortably. Yet he was always himself. He didn’t change the way he talked or acted, or dressed to fit in with any of the groups. He was just himself.
I think that’s what I appreciated about him most. He was a realistic dreamer, a hard worker and he did not complain much. He was passionate and it showed through his work. His friends and family adored him and we had great chemistry.
I didn’t cry until about three months after our breakup. And laying looking at the ceiling, I repeated to myself, “It just wasn’t our time.”
The more I said it, the more my chest would heave and the harder the tears would flow.
Cheers to my friend and his bride. I hope they make it. I want him to be happy and I’ve told him that. You can’t bottle lightening, and I wouldn’t dare try.
But I do still sincerely love him for what he brought to my life. Besides, his star is too bright and he is far too rowdy to join a monastery.