The Guy Not Taken

One of my favorite short stories was written by Jennifer Weiner, author of In Her Shoes and Good in Bed. It's titled, The Guy Not Taken, and in it, a young woman, overwhelmed by her life and responsibilities, finds herself wistfully reminiscing about an old love, and what would have happened if.... The next morning when she wakes up, she finds herself in her what if and realizes that her what if is not the fairy tale life she had imagined, and that her life has followed the course that it should have. This story perfectly captures the way I feel when I think about the boys I've loved and what my life would have been like if....

There was my first boyfriend, a four year affair of heartache and torment, where I found myself inexplicably bound to a boy who was not only manipulative, but a liar and a cheater to boot, who was always looking for the next best thing, bigger and better, even if I was standing right next to him. He was the type of boy who would point out an attractive girl in a crowd and wonder aloud, why I never dressed like that. The type of boy who reveled in my low self-esteem, easier to keep me as a bird in the hand while he flirted with the other birds in the bush. Our break-up was inevitable. I never felt like I was myself. I was always trying and failing to be what he wanted, a square peg in a round hole. For years whenever I thought of him afterward, I was so bitter I could taste it. Until I realized that I wasn't as angry with him, as I was furious with myself. How awful to realize that the person I had hated all these years wasn't him, but myself for letting him treat me like nothing. For letting myself believe I was nothing. If we ever would have gotten married, and we certainly discussed it, I would have been miserable. He would have been my bell jar, my ultimate destruction. And it's not that he was a bad person, certainly he was an awful boyfriend to me, but we just weren't a good fit. He's probably married to someone who is outgoing and outspoken, someone who loves to be out and about and can start a conversation with anyone. I'm just glad I escaped that ninth circle of hell.

My second boyfriend was a dream, a raging fire that I let myself be consumed by. I was too young, too, too young to fall so deeply, but I did, head over heels. He was the antithesis of my first boyfriend, in looks and personality, and I clung to him, so tightly, that I'm sure I terrified him. And then, when he suffered a devastating loss, and I was too young and too selfish to help him cope, to open my eyes to his infinite pain, we slowly unraveled. And when we broke-up, my heart was smashed into a million infinite pieces, each smaller than the last, a lifetime of heartbreak clean-up ahead. I would have sold my soul to an eternity of hellfire, traded my pride, my self, hand over fist, to have kept him. But we were a bad match as well. He was relaxed, and my anxiety and unbalance unhinged him. I would have been unhappy in the end. Who wouldn't? My life would have been a tight-rope walk. Only my best self on display at all times.

And then there were the boys in between, boys who loved me, who knew my best and worst self and loved me nonetheless, and for these boys I am always grateful. Even more so that they became my what ifs, because I would have held them back. They would never have been their most amazing selves had it been for me. And I can see that now. How just as we are sometimes never appreciated in our relationships, we often fail to appreciate others in our relationships. To these boys, and I hope they know who they are, I would just like to say what I would love to hear one of my former boyfriends say, "Please forgive me. You were and you are, bright and beautiful and lovely, and I was too much a fool to see it. Thank you for loving me the way that you did. And I wish always for your cup to runneth over."

So that brings me to now, the present day, with J. Someone who is everything I ever wanted and more. Someone who is my love, my comfort, my friend. Someone with whom I've shared the ugliest parts of myself, and who never thinks less of me. Someone who knows how to talk me off the ledge. Someone who appreciates my sense of humor. Someone who always encourages me to be my best self. Someone who only has eyes for me. Someone who knows I am a gift and treats me like one. My someone. My perfect fit. My happily ever after. The love of my life.

Because I do believe, whether it happens sooner or later, our lives and our hearts always end up right where they should be.