It is easy to reflect a decade later on a relationship and gloss over the reasons a relationship didn’t work. Nostalgia is a potent fog that overlays what was with what could have been.
My first boyfriend I dated from the time I was 16 to 21. He was strong, wise, kind and loyal to a fault. He followed me wherever my whims took me and built a sustainable life around the one I plunked down in haste. Above all he was one of the truest friends I would have ever in my life. I knew I could be happy with him and he would always put my needs above his own. I knew I would love him forever.
I also knew I was 21, and had been monogamous since I became a semi-marketable young woman. Although what I had was nice, there was a big curiosity in my young heart about the world beyond my small town upbringing. I wondered what I would be like as a single woman living alone as much as I wondered how I would handle any attention from a single man. I knew I had to find this out before I could fully commit to someone. I knew I had to move beyond the limits in safety and the graces of niceness. I didn’t know how to break up with him though, or rather, if even I should.
How do you leave something that works nicely? A nice person? A nice relationship?How do you leave a blameless love that is safe, predictable, and built on a trustworthy friendship?
In the end, despite my feelings, I did leave. Leaving this kind of relationship cracks your heart open and makes you question your motives with each passive comment about the break up, or the mention of his name.
After half a year of being on the market, I already knew that dating was fun in the same way that watching a Dukes of Hazzard episode is fun. The Duke boys are nice to look at, and they have a sweet car, but you only need to watch the show a couple times to know how the plot will play out. Each episode ends up with everyone right back where they were at the beginning.
When I met my husband the summer I would turn 22, I knew he wasn’t just another rerun. I was visiting my sister at her college and we went to his dorm room to see if he wanted to get lunch. He was still sleeping–at noon–alone in a twin bed with sheets with fishes on them….. hungover but happy. A couple months later, I moved in with my sister and his appearances became a daily thing.
He had the ability to light up a room, to make those around him feel cared about. He was smart, had a plan, the sexiest smile, and could sing along and two-step to any song. As we spent more time together, I knew I would be counting down the days until he turned 19 and I would wrap my arms around him and slap a wet whiskey kiss on him. I knew he wouldn’t always be nice, or kind, or a safe place for my heart. I knew he had the power to hurt me without remorse. I knew he would have times where his actions were motivated by pride and self preservation. Most of all, I knew that, with him, I had the breathing room to make the same mistakes too. I knew I would marry him.
Ten years after meeting my husband, I know that I didn’t pick the ‘nice guy.’ I also know I could have stayed with the nice guy and been happy too. What I didn’t know at 21 was that loving someone every day is a conscious effort. Even so, I’m glad my 21-year-old self didn’t live by this mantra yet; I’m glad I closed one familiar door and searched for a shiny new one.
My marriage has been etched with selfishness and immaturity on both our parts, and I know we will hurt each other in the future. Yes, love is a choice; it is also a choice to pick the hard love because it is the better love. It is the one that is hot to the touch because it is flammable. It is the opulent one that makes you ache when you have too much of it. It pierces you deeper because it roots so firmly into you. It is an overgrown garden binding your feet while you tend and trim and transplant. It isn’t always nice, safe or loyal but it is your wild to learn the terrain, to navigate, to choose to love every day.
So when nostalgia drips into my hurting heart, I can smile and know that young girl weary about her life-changing decisions did the right thing. I can smile knowing I have a great husband who still lights up the room, grows with me, loves me fiercely and he will always be my wild.
