Time rolls on and dreams, they die
March 30, 2008 – 11:30 pmThere is something slightly unnerving about the first love of your life falling in love and marrying someone else. Sure, it’s a joyous time for them and you want to be happy for them, but you are drawn back to memories of when you were their one and only. When you were the one they saved their money for a ring for you - whether it was a birthday present or an anniversary present or a promise ring. When you were the one they admittedly became "Pussywhipped" for and though they took a verbal beating from their friends about it, they still lit up when you walked in the room.
Chances are the one you love at 16 or 18 is not the one you are going to marry. And even in the throws of puppy love, you have to realize that. You throw in the towel and move on and even make friends with them years later, able to laugh at what went wrong and rib each other about current conquests.
But when the one comes along that clenches the prize you once held sacred, you are left to realize that you weren’t as special as he once said you were. And if you aren’t in a relationship yourself that is as solid and special as you know your ex’s current relationship is, it can leave you feeling very small and alone.
New Year’s Eve 2007, Mike and I were engaged and celebrating with friends at the club Aura in Portland. While he and I were standing there, talking and kissing, I noticed this girl walk by in flats. I remember thinking "She’s smart to wear comfy shoes" and then I looked up from her feet and then saw the guy walking behind her with his hands on her hips. It was my first boyfriend, Sean. I called out hello and he came over, introducing his girlfriend Tessa to me and Mike and I, introducing Mike to them. "This is my fiancee, Mike." I didn’t even mean to say that. I cannot stand when people use the term "FIANCEE" all the time. It sounds so desperate to me. My fiancee this, my fiancee that. "My fiancee things we should go to Hawaii for our honeymoon but I really was hoping on Cancun, myself." Yet there I was, using the term I disliked to introduce Mike to my high school boyfriend. I wanted to slap myself there on the spot.
Within a month of that run in, he proposed to her and they were married last weekend. I couldn’t be happier for them and I truly mean that. But there is a small part of me that remembers when he gave me that sweet little ring on my 16th birthday and told me that he loved me. Nostalgia, perhaps. Fond memories, definitely.
I have to wonder if any of my exes felt that way when they heard I had gotten married. Not an overwhelming sense of loss and woe as their one true love Betsy was off the market (I don’t hold myself in that much regard.) but I can imagine the sensation that I felt is a pretty universal one. At least, I am hoping so.
Since it is a pretty universal feeling, empathy should be fairly easy to hand out. I have some empathizing to do tomorrow. . .
