Thursday, March 22, 2007

Together

Relationships are difficult, aren't they?

All that compromise and mutual respect and trust and honesty and (sometimes) fidelity and memories and planning and effort and work and commitment and making mistakes and learning from those mistakes and in sickness and health and for better or worse and for richer or poorer and not in any particular order.

Until death do you part.

When we moved in together I knew everything wouldn't always be perfect. We'd only just met after all. But I knew that I wanted you. Wanted you to be with me. Knew that we'd learn to live with each other as we went along. And that you could make my house a home.

Where the heart is.

You looked lovely when I first saw you. I can still remember it vividly. There were others there, but you stood out. If I could have deemed a single moment in my life as too perfect, I might well have done it there and then. You were cold-looking but emanated warmth. You had an air of comfort and confidence and solidity. When I touched you I knew that I had to have you. And even though it might sound a bit daft, you were somehow... I don't know... the right size? Height and everything. I thought you had dimensions to die for.

I told you it would sound daft.

I couldn't work you out for a couple of years, not all of you. I'd pieced half of you together, from what I could see, and what I thought I knew. It's not that I didn't want to know the whole of you. I knew you were all there, and I knew it wouldn't take much, if anything, to discover all of you. A day. A snapshot. A moment of concentration and focus and dedication. I thought about you literally all the time. But something else always seemed to get in the way.

So you stayed with me, like I knew you would, where else could you go? But pretty soon it was obvious that things weren't working out as we'd hoped. I made promises I knew I couldn't keep. Claimed and blamed tomorrows as the pivot, the fulcrum of my vows. Because other stuff happens. Other stuff always happens. Things outside the things you know are more important. And The Thing is that I was so much happier to start with. Happy when I met you, happy when I took you home to stay with me all those moons ago.

I'm indebted to your patience and forgiveness. Envious of your placidity and charm. I might have said that you completed me, but when would I complete you?

I should have put you first, and finally I have.



So I'm happy again.

4 comments:

Ordinary Girl said...

hmmm... Clever. Very very clever!!

Fancy a bunk up? :-)

Anonymous said...

Clever, effective, and ultimately very funny...but then again you know that already. x

Fussy Bitch said...

I like it.

D said...

amusing