A new insertion for Fragments of Fiction:
Somewhere in the distant recesses of my mind are the memories of a woman who made me happier than any other. Some would refer to this as romanticizing the past. They'd argue that I had made her into more than she really was and that she had flaws and faults. No one could be that perfect.
And they would be right. She had plenty of flaws. She was judgmental and at times hot tempered. When she was angry the words would fly from her lips with little to no regard to the damage they might inflict. Sometimes if she felt insecure about things she would start a vicious fight because it is always easier to say goodbye when you are angry with someone.
All this and more. But when I think about her I see so much more. I see dark eyes that I loved to stare at, full lips that begged to be kissed and long legs that were best wrapped around me. And her smell, oh it was amazing. She just smelled like a combination of love, lust and home. Or is it lust, home and love. Who can remember.
It sounds like it should be the beginning of an incredible love story, the kind of syrupy sweet thing you hate to read. It really should have been that kind of thing. Really you should be reading about a house full of kids everywhere and family meals that would have inspired Norman Rockwell.
If life were fair that is what would have happened. That is how the story would have gone. The blanks would have been filled in with lots of anecdotes and euphemisms for how she kept getting pregnant. Their friends would have wondered what their secret was and they would have laughed because love is not rational and not easily explained.
That is what should have happened....but it didn't. Years later it still seems inconceivable that two people who were so perfectly matched could have screwed it up so badly. A modern tragedy that has haunted me for years. The scenes have been played out inside my head so many times that I almost wonder if I have lost touch with reality, or I used to.
You see the woman I saw as the love of my life left me or I left her. Maybe it is better to say that we left each other. Whatever the reason the fact is that we split and took two separate roads. It was the most painful loss of my life. The women that followed her were judged by how similar they were to her. It took years for me to realize that until I stopped comparing them I would never be happy.
Eventually I found a way to let go of her. Don't know if it was time or fortune that did it. One day I woke up next to someone else and realized that I hadn't thought about her at all. Not only hadn't I thought of her, I was happy. For a moment it threw me, this unexpected happiness. I remember smiling and going back to sleep with feeling more relaxed and content than I had for years.
And I was, relaxed and content. For years I lived a very happy and peaceful life. All was good and then it wasn't. My partner decided that I wasn't right or enough for her. I was missing something that she needed and that was enough for her to decide that we were through.
It was all rather shocking, but not nearly as shocking as my realization that I wasn't bothered by her departure. For a moment I was dismayed and more than a little concerned by my laissez-faire attitude. When she left I let her go, no begging, no arguing, no second guessing. It was done.
I didn't cry or feel a sense of loss, just relief. It did make me wonder if I had settled for something less than I wanted and or needed.. It didn't make sense to me, but like I said I didn't care enough to do much more than shrug my shoulders.
I reveled in my new found freedom and took great joy in leaving dishes in the sink and socks on the floor. I did as I pleased without regard for another and I loved it. There was no reason to be worried. All was good.