D’s now been gone three weeks. Surprisingly, the time has gone quickly, but I think that’s more a function of my life in general. I can barely believe that we are almost to December already, but that’s what the calendar tells me.
I can’t speak for him, but remaining apart after going through emotional turmoil and discord helped me to process what happened in a pure sense, without having him here to add to the layers.
In a big picture sense, it’s very clear to me that we fell into one of many cliché crevices of a long-term relationship: we took each other for granted. We simultaneously underestimated the value of what we had while making the assumption that no matter what happened, the other would always be there. While this episode in no way threatened our marriage, it was a hard lesson learned.
We have a very complicated history. When we met I hadn’t even been married a year but was already miserable. Within six months he was in love with me and told me so, but it took me a long time to fall in love with him, instead of the idea of him. He was my knight in shining armor, the man who was going to save me from my circumstances; he was perfect. So perfect that I didn’t deserve him. We created a dynamic that was so intense that others were uncomfortable around us – it was as if we were giving off sparks. Every hour, every minute, every second that I could steal away to spend with him was magical. The highs were dizzying and the lows were debilitating. It was a classic forbidden love story.
We spoke of the depths of our feelings in grandiose ways; we had known each other forever, literally, we had been lovers in past lives, we wrote poetry. Our sexual connection was mythical. He would nearly cry as he gazed in wonder at my body, the sheer beauty almost too much for him to bear.
Then, after five long years – FIVE YEARS – I made it through to the other side and we could be together without restraint. After a year I moved in with him, to a city far from my comfort zone (and from our places of work), but I hardly noticed the five hours we spent commuting every day, I was beside him so I didn’t care where we were. Of course, the intensity could not and should not have been maintained, but there were still moments of “Somewhere in Time” now and again.
Now here we are, creeping up on 18 years since that fateful day we met.
Holy. 18 years.
We’ve been a legitimate couple for almost 13 years.
We’ve been married for 6½ years.
And I can count on one hand the number of times that we’ve spoken harshly to one another. I have a lot to be thankful for. If I could have bottled what we had back then, I would add just a drop now.
I can’t wait to see the new movie, The Fountain. The idea that love can survive through time and lifetimes is an old theme for us, and I think it will help us to hold each other’s hands just a little tighter.
Jim Croce -- Time In A Bottle mp3
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