Bittersweet

I work for a lovely couple, assisting with their business which she founded and he supports her in her mission, serving as her right hand man. Aisling and Kent have been together a number of years, marrying two years ago. They share a home, dogs, friends, and families. There is a comfort surrounding their relationship, that leaves longing for what I do not have, haven't for a long time, and wonder if I will find again. Their home is well tended, the furniture tasteful and comfortable, they adore their dogs as though there were their children and in a way they are - something I understand. I realize I have only seen the tiniest slice of their life and my envy is based on impressions, my lack, and not reality.

Living alone has suited me well, very well for the last year and a half; I have learned a great deal about myself, and it is lovely to only have myself to account regarding my choices, my spendings, and my grocery shopping. Still there are times when I miss partnership in the everyday, the glow and glide of couplehood. There are not great periods of this desire seeping at the edges of my being, but they happen, like today.

Aisling and Kent had left for a trip of approximately three weeks and I was still at the house finishing some work. Kent called shortly after leaving, as I expected because I was sure there was something left behind. He had left his wedding ring by the kitchen sink and really didn't want to be without it. As we spoke I walked over to the sink and retrieved the ring, slipping it around in my hand, noting it's simplicity and size - it would fit on the middle finger of my larger hand. While playing with it, I recalled feeling that way about my wedding band, which has been off my hand since 2005. I have not been single all that time but no bands with the weight of commitment, purpose, and promise have encircled my finger since then.

My desires in these moments fights with my cynicism - relationships don't last. Or at least mine don't. It's not that I have only flitting partnerships, but apparently I lack that gene for sticking things out. Perhaps that gene is related to my cynicism - they are mutually exclusive, if I have one, I can't have the other. Only one time did I have any true faith that a relationship would last, which it did for twelve years but in the end I still left. Regretfully in many ways, but it was the right decision for me at the time. In the years that have swirled by it does seem that in some ways I left the best thing I've had. But somehow it still wasn't good enough for me. The truth is that there were things missing, some incompatibility concerns that time have not erased but have left me wondering - at what point are things like that still good enough to stay? How do you know when you should stay in spite of those mismatches?

Perhaps the reason I laden such loveliness on relationships like Aisling and Kent's is that I keep hoping I if I can learn the secret of couples like them, I will be able cure myself of my lack of faith. If I can find inner peace that will lead to acceptance not just of my imperfections about another's, I would be allowed me the domestic, marital bliss that has alluded me, and I would finally believe I deserve such riches.

I will be shipping it tomorrow.