I had a grand conversation last night with someone who, by my estimate, is not much for admitting to her mistakes, or that she ever even committed such things. We got to talking about her relationships (none of mine) and how she still thinks about the ones that got away and what mistakes she might have made to lose what could have been a good thing. She is divorced now and not expecting to be involved with anyone ever again, but of course those type of plans can change on a dime. The conversation turned to the comments I heard on the BBC, and mentioned somewhere on this site in recent weeks. It was in regard to the woman who said that her trainwreck of a marriage was salvaged and redeemed when she and her husband first made the necessary compromises, but more importantly they allowed each other the freedom to be who they were before they were married and before they even knew each other. She, I took it, was a bit of a free spirit while her husband, a novelist, was a homebody. So she went all kinds of places on her own while he stayed home and wrote books, and at the end of the day or at the end of every other day they made time for each other some way or other. She described it as the perfect union, and it made me realize that Freedom is exactly what I see being granted by the people I know in relationships that have lasted years.
The Freedom account is from a true story, and maybe it says something about me that I found such an obvious statement about successful relationships to inspire me into thinking it could still be possible for me. The person with whom I was talking about this stuff last night agreed, though she maintained that she would be happy to spend the rest of her life single, while I iterated that I will not be happy like that, even though it looks more and more like that is exactly how circumstances will play out.
Oh I remember how this subject came up. I had been at a bar the night before where an older couple walked in, bragging that they were celebrating their 46th anniversary. The novelty of this year’s celebration, they said, was that they bought themselves the same card. I don’t think I’ve heard of that before but why would I… But I mentioned this couple and their 46th anniversary and my friend had the same reaction as I: That sounds boring as hell. I agreed and we both laughed. Boring, perhaps, for us, but I don’t express the sentiment as a comment on the fine union this husband and wife have survived. It’s just that that kind of lifelong permanence is not for everybody.
I am conflicted about it, though. I could imagine staying with someone forever if both of us were allowed to live our own lives and evolve as human beings without distancing or alienating each other. I guess that goes without saying but it puts the scope of a couple’s future in a perspective that I think illustrates how nearly impossible it is for a long-term union to remain healthy and happy. Of course married people stay together for the duration, like my parents did (on paper, that is), despite the unhappiness and the discord. I don’t think I could live like that and I don’t think my generation necessarily expects to.
Another reason this subject is in the air is because of a conversation I had with the brother of one of the people I met up with down in Tampa last year. He had just ended his relationship of 5 years, and all he could say about it was that both she and he had no problem with it ending. It simply made sense, as whatever they had together had run its course. I don’t know this guy well enough to feel like I should have asked a lot of questions but I sorta wish I had. They had never lived together, which seemed to have been a sustaining factor. Who knows for how long this will last but for now they are perfectly amicable, sharing custody of the dog. He might invite me over for a Super Bowl party if he gets a TV in time.
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Thinking of the words “mild” and “mildly” when used in reference to sentiments or emotions.
Mildly interesting. Mild excitement.
The opposite extreme would go toward what, spicy? I am sriracha-like into this show.
Or maybe not. I just caught myself using that word, though, in describing my interest in something I discussed with a friend last night. I think it’s a weak and even snobbish word when used to describe one’s enthusiasm or almost lack thereof.
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