“Our love story isn’t a romantic comedy—it’s a cult classic.”
I gushed that line to my sister less than a month after meeting B_, and even though we’re no longer a couple, lost somewhere in the denouement of our romance, this story is nowhere near over. It’s an epic—spanning multiple lifetimes—and I’m so grateful to be one of the two people starring in it.
The first time we met he asked me what the fuck was wrong with my hair. I loved it. My hair totally looked like ass because I hadn’t wanted to deal with it after working out, so I’d just thrown it up in a floppy top knot. I figured, the crowd at Cesar was lucky I showered.
I told bartender extraordinaire, Jesus, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to sit at the bar or a table, and he suggested I take a seat at the bar next to B_. A month earlier I went on a date with a perfectly acceptable man who said he likes to sit at the bar because people at the bar are more open to conversation. I decided I wanted to be more open to people who weren’t that guy. Don’t get me wrong—I’m a very social person, but I know that, energetically, I wasn’t totally open to people, especially men. So, upon Jesus’s suggestion, I opened myself up to B_.
I certainly wouldn’t have guessed I’d end up falling in love with him. Part of the reason I felt so comfortable chatting him up was because he was older enough than me that it would be creepy for him to assume right off the bat that he’d have a chance. We totally hit it off, and by the next weekend, we were hanging out every day. By the weekend after that, we were falling for each other, and pretty soon thereafter, we were spilling all over town.
But from the beginning, people weren’t completely comfortable with our “arrangement”, and here’s why—we knew we were eventually going to break up. “Why”, you and the rest of our friends and family members wonder? Here’s a quick list of the reasons why we knew “…till death do us part” wasn’t part of our plan:
He has two grown kids and a vasectomy. That he had on purpose. And we do know they are reversible.
I eventually want to (probably) get married and (definitely) have or adopt kids. And I’m thirty-five and these eggs aren’t gettin’ any younger.
He is not the healthiest. Nor is he the most motivated. As far as qualities in a long-term partner are concerned, health and motivation are at the top of my list, because I struggle with those, and if I’m looking for someone who’ll help balance me out and bring out the best in me, it’ll be a healthy, motivated dude.
Early on he said, “Listen, I know you want to get married and have kids, and you should! You will be an amazing mother and wife. And you know I’m not that guy. I just can’t stand the idea of you settling for some douche bag, or even just some average guy. You have to let me show you how you deserve to be treated. I know it can’t be forever, but I want you for as long as I can have you.”
So I said, “Let’s show ‘em how it’s done,” and we set out on a mission to love each other up real good. We knew we’d be friends for the rest of our lives.
Now that we’ve “transitioned” (broken up) people are still not satisfied with our situation. They want to fix it. Or rather, they want to unfix him, knock me up, and hand us happily ever after in a handbasket. But they’re totally missing the point! He doesn’t have to have the qualities I’d look for in a mate, and so I’m left to appreciate him as he is. Can you imagine how liberating?! It’s like people forgot about loving for love’s sake.
In a recent attempt to show me how I deserve to be loved, he gave me a five month old blue-nosed pit bull puppy who we named Zula. She is adorable, sweet, smart, and utterly exhausting, and I love her beyond words. She doesn’t make me miss him any less. Well, maybe a little.
B_ is quite pleased with himself. He recently texted me, “Ha. I made u fall in love twice.” Indeed, he did.
And at the end of the day, I’ve gotten used to her snoring just like I got used to his.