Happiness is a fickle

In the pursuit of happiness there is really no path that leads to happily ever after. There is a midpoint, sure, where you could convince yourself that you are happy and fulfilled; and if someone came into your life at that midpoint, you'd be dismissive.  You think you are better off without them. Then when you snap out of it, you realize that you've been missing that something. Someone, some part of yourself all along.

You go back, go way back and find those who meant something along the way. You try to figure out if that person could have worked out, if you had lost the opportunity because that one word that you did not say, you did say, the one opportunity that could have changed your fate, your path forever.

You test it out, by saying - "what happened?"

You hear the other person says - "timing, circumstance."

A memory lane appeared out of nowhere, and there ten dancing fireflies guide you through the walkway, until you could see the other end. A different future, a different family, a different life, a different ocean, a different set of reality.

You've always been passive, submissive to a fault. You don't like to take charge, be demanding, you'd rather follow than lead. You don't like to pursue, yet you can hold your own. You just don't want to, you are perfect at being alone and you are perfect at being in a relationship. You are perfectly content one way or another.

Under the right circumstance, you'd even be a perfect wife, a perfect mother, and a loyal, passionate, devoted person who would do anything and everything for the other.

That's what you've been told.

The two of you would have continued to date, until he wanted children, you'd given children to him. You'd not wanted to get married, until the other wanted a marriage. A proper family. You'd agree because that's what being a supportive, submissive person would do. You'd do all that you can to please the person you are with. You'd become domesticated, be known as the wonderful wife, mother, an excellent cook, a jack of all trades.

You'd be praised, admired and you'd be the perfect little wife that the other always wanted. The hot wife.  He'd be happy, content, and he’d thank his lucky stars. For having said what he said, to keep you and fought for you when he did. He'd be proud of his accomplishment.  Until one day he’d take you for granted, he'd think you are who you are because what he brought to your life. You had grown a lovely garden, full of fragrant plants, exotic, rare plants that every neighbor envied. You'd have a career, a group of good core girlfriends, some guy friends, but you'd find the guys tiring. You'd find them boring. You'd call them Peter Pans because they never wanted to grow up. You'd self congratulate. You'd kiss the other as he went to work every day. You knew that it was worth it to uplift your roots, move all the way for him, for this world that you had finally become part of. You'd tell friends, how you first met. In your early 20s, and how the unlikely story of getting back together after all those time, when you finally gave up, then he asked you to be with him. The rest was history. You'd say.

Your girlfriends would be so envious of you, the big house, the fancy car, the husband who had it all, and the beautiful children who you knew would keep him around, for as long as you care him to be around. You gave him a beautiful, healthy son and a daughter.

One day, one day as you looked yourself in the mirror, you did not see you anymore, you looked middle aged, tired, spent, and passionless. You take on a new hobby, change your job, dye your hair, get Botox, a tummy tuck, and you stopped all that made you the motherly you - cooking, gardening, ironing, taking children to the park. You became fashionable, you take up a new passion, triathlon or running perhaps, increased your core training, and before you know men are saying to you, "You don't look like the type who ever cooked. You must be used to men doing things for you. You don't look like someone who took public transportation." You had become the woman you used to both despise and envy.

You looked at the other. You stopped appreciating the way he fought for you, you started to resent having uplifted and moved 3000 miles away for him, you start to ponder if the boy before him could have been the one, he was too tall,  now a little too gray, too predictable. The boy had the perfect body for you, and fair colored hair reminded you of the summer beach, and he was unpredictable. You should have given that boy another chance, yet you had given your life to the other.

Boy travelled into town, you two met up for dinner, then dessert, then back at the boy's hotel, boy had become man, but never married, never would, still unpredictable, intoxicating, and a player, just like you already knew but this time you didn't have anything to lose. So an affaird. You quickly forgot about the other person, the man who fought for you, who said that he'd love you until the end of the day. He never would know, he still saw you as the 22 year old girl he knew when he first met you, the innocent, caring, loving girl who adored every inch of him, But that's not you any more. You are down to the rabbit hole, playing a dangerous game with boy, knowing that you won’t lose because you are clever.

You stop.  Fireflies disappear.  The lane disappears.

You ask the other. "Is this the future you'd envision with me? Don't you remember how I dated a boy while I was with you? Don't you remember that you told me that I'm not the marriage material?"

The other is still full of faith, "Under the right circumstances, you'd be an absolutely perfect wife."

You stop and take a deep breath. Then you find tears. You had called him, and no one else, “my sweetheart” once. You know when the boy came crashing into your life, you had him to fall back on, until you told him about the boy and broke his heart, yet, all those women he bed, he chose to believe in you. Even when you have lost faith in yourself.

He’s the only person who ever called you by your first name’s initial. Simple, direct and you. “My little X.” That’s how he called you.

"So here we are, what now?" You ask.

It's benign and innocent, it's just talk because you are three thousand miles apart. You never uplifted your life for anyone, he never asked you to take that leap of faith.

"Now, we wait and see." He says.

“Wait for what?” You ask.

As usual, he says, as he said many years before.

“Wait for the stars to align.”

You are reminded that one night, the summer wind blowed curtain. You had just said goodbye to the boy, beach blond boy who laughed and played, an expert who played the field nearly as good as you once did.

“I will see you in a couple of days.” Boy casually said, leaning down to kiss you as you laid in bed, but he was never to be seen again. But boy was not the only one. You never heard from your sweetheart that summer either.  You waited, and waited.

You went to see movies, in the rose city, alone. You arrived at a hotel, the blinker was on and when you listened to the answering machine, thinking it was your sweetheart, it was not, it was a man calling his wife, saying how much he loved her. It was a wrong room, wrong number. You cried, you cried like a baby in your large king size bed. You just wanted to be loved. You had so much love to give and no one wanted you.

You waited for the call that never came. You waited for that email that never arrived. Because you were passive, and full of faith, for the one you loved, you simply waited. You never made a fuss. You never demanded anything. You cried but you never cried in front of anyone. Until one day you wiped away tears, stopped waiting and started living.

You never saw the stars aligning the last time. You know you will not see the stars align this time.

This is real life. And in real life, happiness is a fickle. It does not belong to someone like you.  Not really, not for long.