I was spritzing on some Rose 31 by Le Labo, a gift my ex bought me, when it struck me—since a good scent always strikes some cord within me—that while we have each other, we all could afford to love each other even more.
Because the truth is, no one is ours forever. And not only that, but no one is even ours.
I say this not because loving someone more would have altered the inevitable—that is, that the relationship would ultimately come to an end—but because most relationships do come to an end. And, with that in mind, we should celebrate each other while we have each other.
We should indulge in each other. We should savor each other. We should look closer, lean in further, and be more tender. We should say “I love you” in another way, another time.
When I think back on seeing my ex with his kids for the first time, I remember being so in awe, so impressed by this man who was catering to two lives while being equally as attentive and alive to me. He did it with ease, with the biggest, truest smile, as if inviting me in on these small moments composed of him shuffling the kids around was a moment he lived for. And the reality is, it was. Those moments are that important to him. And that dazzled me.
And yet, over time, I guess you (or me) come to expect those moments from a person. It’s just who they are. And with that understanding, you let a moment that once dazzled you, well, to lose some of its shine. You overlook it.
You take the simple stuff—which is everything and of absolute importance—and you lose sight of it because you start looking at not only the small shit but the bigger picture. And the big picture can be a sobering way to confront any romance. I know the big picture is what ended mine.
And that’s okay. I think it’s important not to let love overwhelm you. I think it’s important to not let romance sidetrack or even hijack this vision you’ve dreamed up for yourself. Not every love is meant to take you all the way. In fact, almost none of them will.
I guess what I’m saying is, if I could do anything differently, I would have given myself more to the person I had when I had them. Because that they offered themselves to me, their world and attention, their hours and heart, is no small act.
If I had to do it again, knowing that I’d lose them all over, I would. I’d love them again and even more. I would kiss them longer, stay an extra day, and tell them I love them for one more reason and in one new way. Because that privilege will not always be mine.