In A Perfect World…

My coworker hates that phrase so that prompts me to say it a lot. But in my perfect world things would be so drastically different, as I’m sure most others would as well. Externally, I’d be the perfect size 6/8, I’d have perfect get up and go looks and I would naturally smell like a sultry mix of sandalwood, vanilla and cinnamon. I’d have a job that I loved and that helped people. I’d take fascinating trips all over the world. I’d have just enough money to never want anything and to be comfortable. I’d also have a convertible for the summer days and something roomy for road trips. I’d have someone that I wanted to share all that with and we’d start every morning with great sex, coffee and maybe an early morning run after. After a while together we’d have a child. A beautiful, smart blessing and we’d be as happy as anyone could ever be. That’s according to my dreams anyway, lately.

It’s not too far off but these dreams are becoming so frequent and so vivid that it’s hard to get out of bed when reality just isn’t matching up. On one hand, I’ve got my ex. Still wants to talk and still wants to see me. He’s in love, although I thinks he’s more in love with the idea of what he thinks we could be rather than with me. He wants to move away from here and just begin a life together with me somewhere new and away from current “distractions”.

On the other hand, I don’t want any of that with him and have told him. I’ve also told him that my friends and my life, aren’t distraction to me. It’s my here and now. The truth is, I have a friend that is going through a really rough time right now. Actually a few of them are but this one is different. I’m not even sure what we are. We’re somewhere more than friends but less than lovers. It’s who all the dreams, premonitions and future predictions are supposed to be about and this has been baffling me for almost two years now.

I never wanted nor expected anything from this friendship. Quite frankly, when we knew each other as kids, I didn’t really know anything about him and I was too caught up in my own drug induced coma to care. Years go by and I stayed close to the friend that we have in common. Not as close as we are now but his name came up a few times over the years but then fast forward years down the road our paths cross again. I was just fresh from a breakup. Yet another failed attempt to love a man that loved me so much that he’d also asked for my hand in marriage. I wasn’t looking for anything which, I’m told, is just when shit finds you.

It felt, at first, like two bored and possibly lonely people who happened upon one another to pass the time. He was going through a rough time then as well and I think I liked that I could take care of him a bit. In the beginning, it was all fun but then the “L-word” came out of his month but not in the way that I say it. To him, it’s something you say about cheese or a TV show or your favorite socks. To me, it was different and ignored a bit. But then I’d had this revelation when I was getting these messages and emails from my ex. I could never love the ex and I’d always told him as well. I’ve never lied about my feelings for anyone. I’ve always been upfront. But I realized that I felt something for my friend that I hadn’t felt in a very long time. A true, unconditional love that should only be reserved for the very special. It confused me. It annoyed me and I had all these emotional Chernobyl moments that led to our first departure from one another for a while.

We do that. I hate that we do that but something stupid happens and we retreat from each other. We find our way back eventually and after each time I feel like these feelings are going away. That they were just some crazy, drunk moment of emotions and I’m back to normal again but that never happens. After a while, after some really stupid fights, after some really big eff ups, after this long now, I’ve realized that this might not go away. These feelings.

On some level it bothers me that the reason we’re not together is because he’s holding out hope for some picture perfect woman who looks good next to him on insta-snap-tweet-book. If I’d had that same mentality I’d have gotten married a long time ago to some Greek built God and would probably already be divorced by now. But I don’t. I know that at the end of the day, when you’re 80 years old and both of you are saggy and wrinkly and have false teeth, you want to be with the person that makes you smile, that holds your hand and you feel comfort and that you know will always be by your side.

My current reality is knowing that he’ll never understand all of that above as much as I’ll never understand why God chose him to be the one I really fell for. I’ll never understand that when he’s sad or in trouble, all I want to do is lay his head in my lap, stroke his hair and tell him everything will be ok and if it’s not I’ll do everything in my power to make it ok. I’ll never understand why no one else has even come close to this. She’s a tricky S.O.B., that thing called love. It’s a pretty powerful thing too. I’ve said before that he’s my punishment for all the men that loved me and that I could never love back. This is entirely unfair and yet probably exactly what I deserve.

I was once warned, by an anonymous donor, that I was wasting my time. I’m still sure this was a jaded or jealous ex girlfriend of his but never knew how she knew who I was. The only thing she did is make me feel like crap about me and not change my opinion of him. I know who he is, what he’s done, I know things that even he doesn’t know I know and I know where we stand and I’m still not sorry for any of it. I’ve not betrayed his confidence. I’ve not harmed him for his actions and I’ll be as supportive as he’ll let me be because, even though we’re not where I wouldn’t mind us to be and will never be, he’s still one of the most special people to me. This is literally the strangest relationship I’ve ever had in my life.

Well, those are my thoughts right now… For my current state of perfect imperfection. Hope you’re having a great day.

A Perfect Life By: Party Supplies



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