Nic Narrates

I’m one of those people that gazes longingly at couples holding hands as they walk down the street. Especially when they’re so cute and you can tell they’re just happy to be with one another. But how would one know that they are, in fact, happy together? By the smiles on their faces? The complete comfort and contentedness they emit when sharing something as simple as a strawberry shake from McDonald’s? How she’s holding the trap door open while he reaches in to grab the paper? Is it any of the above? All??

And that’s just it. Those couples look happy. And maybe they are. And maybe they aren’t. And maybe it’s both. The point is, we can’t ever really know because only those who are a part of that couple can know what is between them.

A friend of mine at work who recently got engaged reminded me of this point when I told her how happy I am for her and her fiance. I like them both very much and am genuinely excited for them not only for their engagement but also because they are about a month away from beginning a new life together abroad. Her dose of reality was administered thus: “yes, it is exciting, I guess, but…”

In addition to the shiny new ring and romantic proposal and talks of a reception venue, work visas, and weekend jaunts to Madrid; she went on to tell me that they’ve never fought more than in the past week.

Maybe I envy her, them, for their own apparent happiness (I still think they’re a great couple), or maybe I’m a little relieved to hear that everything isn’t always rose petals and passports. And maybe the oftentimes warmth and sometimes angst I feel for such couples as these isn’t simply a ‘healthy’ perspective on attachment and affection, or a ‘bitterness’ for wanting something else or something more. When I look at pictures of those smiling couples, I know they have their low moments too. But whether they’re smiling or stoic, the really great couples, I think, are those that value their own story rather than envy any other for what they might have instead.

So as far as the story goes over here, I’m one half of my own couple. There have been good moments, happy, out-of-this-world good moments; and there are those that have put all others to an end. We’ve been the couple on the street, still are, and have shared feasts of KFC, honed sickeningly sweet candy nicknames for each other, and developed our own method of watching movies with popcorn and episodes of The Office with wine and cheese. We’ve been through break-ups, losing and switching jobs and careers, moving, traveling, financial strain, errors of judgment– on both our parts, holidays apart and holidays with each other’s families, illnesses, and the building of relationships between ex-spouses, children, life-long friends, and unapproving mothers.

In nearly four years, we’ve been through, well…a lot. And mostly, we’ve done it together. And while we definitely haven’t held hands through all of it, there isn’t a man out there with whom I’d rather be in a perfectly imperfect relationship with than him.

Filed under: engaging boyfriends, friends, singletons by Nic