This week I was intensely and disconcertingly drawn to someone I’ve never, ever met before. But, because he looked like someone I used to know – a man once who said something to me that might have changed the course of my life – I felt like I knew him. And so I immediately liked him a lot.
He reminded me of the friend of a man I dated ten years ago. I loved that guy a lot (the guy I dated, not his friend. Obviously, the other way around would have been inappropriate).
And that guy – the one I dated – drove me batty in both good and bad ways. Let’s call this guy “Prince”.
Prince was gorgeous, stylish, passionate, brave, and showed me his vulnerable side…and I adored that about him.
Prince was also new to the country and wanted to plant his fashionable
boot firmly on the back of my neck. He told me I asked too many
questions, talked too much, and he wanted me to mind him.
And that…well that I did NOT adore.
So we fought a lot (which, by the way, is HIGHLY unusual for me.
I’m definitely more of a lover than a fighter) and broke up a
lot. I cried a lot.
And one time, when we got back together, his friend Lucky came
over to talk to us.
I know you two love each other a lot, but all this fighting and
crying and breaking up and getting back together is ridiculous. I’m glad that you’ve made up, and I hope it works out this time…I’m hoping that this time around you’ll be adults who will be rational and communicate with each other instead of fighting. If you’re fighting all the time, then something’s really wrong. That’s not love, that’s drama.
I was MORTIFIED. Here I was, a grown-ass woman of 27, and someone needed to talk to me as though I was a fourteen year old just figuring out
The next time Prince and I had a fight – and our fights almost always
concluded in a (usually temporary) break-up – Lucky’s words echoed
in my head.
“Ridiculous. Communication. Adults. Drama.”
And I told Prince, “if you do what you usually do – refuse to speak to
me for a day or a week or three weeks – then when you are ready to talk to me, it will be too late. I’m not doing what we’ve been doing any more.”
And I meant it. And, sure enough, when he called three weeks later to apologize and tell me he loved me, I said, “I meant it. No more.”
And I SUFFERED. I wanted that guy so much.
But I didn’t want to be in a relationship that required interventions from friends. I didn’t want drama. I wanted love.
So I’m lucky that Lucky intervened. I’m lucky that he had the balls and the wisdom (and was exasperated enough!) to speak the truth.
And I carried that wisdom forward into my life.
And that’s who this guy resembles. Lucky.