At a recent gathering of girlfriends, the topic of ex-boyfriends came up. It was amusing to hear some of the stories (which were mostly new to me), but I also noticed something odd about myself in the convo. I just don't see my "exes" as exes, I guess. Or my definition is off. Or something. Because I really couldn't jump in and bag on anyone I used to date (with a few looming exceptions). For the most part I have been surrounded by good, interesting people all my dating life, I still consider them friends and I am super glad about that (although I am aware the feeling is not always mutual) . Am I happy about every choice he or I made in the course of the relationship? Uh, no. But do I have regrets? Not really.
I read
THIS lovely post by Jessica which made me think, "Aha! This is probably why I don't have any hard feelings!" (thanks, Jess) I fully subscribe to
The Chemistry Theory and I think that's why I am able to value the experiment and move on. Even the two boys I almost married--EVERYONE, even my family, expects there to be some bad blood there, but there just isn't. I loved them both very much, very truly, but I think it just wasn't the right chemistry for a marriage. In both cases, we had strong, golden friendships outside of the 'romantic' relationships--a chemical reaction good for, say, creative endeavors, roadtrips, emotional support, shelter, late night slurpee runs after dates with other people, etc.--but not for bringing out the very best in each other or building a family life or --heaven help us--constant companionship. But with both of them, the 'romantic' part was only a tiny percentage (like a total of 6 months out of 10 years? Ha!) of the whole relationship.
I don't think this says anything negative about me
or the other person involved. I think it says something negative about the hypthesis and the experiment, and thank heaven we didn't see that through to nuclear meltdown stage. And when I think of each boy I ever loved, or even just liked for a while, the positive experiences--or let's just say the lessons learned [the "data collected" in the chemistry model] and the fun had--FAAAAR outweigh the hard times or difficult endings. And in each period of reflection and sorting through the aftermath, I grew and improved and was prepared to recognize the perfect reaction between Richard and me. I believe if I had met him even ONE MONTH earlier, I wouldn't have been ready. Shudder to think...
Anyway, I was thinking of all these things I've learned and tried to pinpoint my lessons/ memories with each S.O., starting in junior high, all the way up to my 29th birthday. Here goes, off the top of my head:
B1- I learned a ton about what boys like, and how careful I must be when entrusted with a heart.
B2- I learned that when he gives you green mnm's, a boy likes you. It's good to have older friends to drive you around. Do not break up at Christmas time. I also learned how to really stay friends when the lovey stuff doesn't work out, because I think we're still friends (right, B?). Also, I think that was the first time I experienced The Trauma Diet, where I tend to lose10-20lbs with even the slightest emotional distress. This side effect turned out to be great for rebounding with gorgeous-but-not-so-smart skaters.
A1-I learned about deep smit and karma. I learned what it feels like to be
cherished, to be showered with tiny gifts from the heart (setting a hard-to-beat standard for later boyfriends). I learned about letting music define moments, and therefore Dire Straits, New Order, Suzanne Vega, The Alarm, and Talking Heads can all bring back the tiniest details of A1 to this day, like the smell of his breath, the soap he used before the stake dance, the feel of sand on my back in the tunnel, etc. Darn that music.
R- I caught a glimpse of how nuts I could be ("contain the crazy"), how much my religion was part of me and what it meant to me, and also to act on a crush if the opportunity arises because you might just be pleasantly surprised that the boy you and your friends drooled over all last year kind of likes you back and is WAY too shy to ever do anything about it on his own. I also learned from R to avoid the Greyhound Bus and that U2 can be as romantic as anything (especially live at Sun Devil Stadium on The Joshua Tree Tour).
K (aka Tex)- Oh, my dear Tex, may he rest in peace. I feel I can write more openly here because he is gone, but wow, what I learned from him. I learned that love cannot heal everything. I learned what I was going to need from a life-long love. With Tex, I came to fully realize my weakness for what I termed "the troubled genius"
("So just ignore my weakness for boys in noisy bands/ They always have too much to say, they always need a hand"-voice of the beehive). He was brilliant and so sweet, but so troubled. God only knows what happened to that boy's brain chemistry. I loved him like a brother more than a girlfriend, and I hated to see the world so hard on him. I have blogged before how the lyrics to Don Maclean's "Vincent" remind me of him, and they still do: "And when no hope was left in sight/ On that starry, starry night/ You took your life as lovers often do/ But I could have told you, Vincent/ This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you." Even when we were done, I planned for him to always be a part of my life--to enjoy his art and music, his sense of humor. I am genuinely sad that Richard and my children don't know him.
A2- Carpe Diem (
who cares if one of you is leaving for college in a month? LIVE DEEP!). If you truly love your friend, you can ignore his faults, forgive his mistakes and adore all his goodness. He may not truly love you back. Don't burn your bridges because a person can become a recurring theme in your life. Let the music sink in; don't fight the soundtrack of your life ["
In Your Eyes" wafted through a window in Durham, NC while I was working as a missionary, and the memory of A2 came back so strong I had to sit down.
Sit Down, people. Now THAT is having your world rocked]. Be a a sign-seeker and pattern-finder. You can totally genuinely love someone while knowing you should never be married. When you know you should never be married, don't try to get married.
***
I know that I wrote a piece like this for my first blog on bluechair
("To All The Boys I've Loved Before"), but the feelings are deeper and yet more mellow now, and I know so much better now how meticulously I was prepared and refined for the life I have today. So for everyone who went through the refining process with me, thank you. And I am sorry for any pain I cause in my ignorance. I really do hope everyone is as happy as I am. It has been, and continues to be, a wonderful life.
