This is the ex-boyfriend, Alex (cira 2005), with whom I gained the “happy weight” I referred to earlier today. (I tend to plump up in my cheeks, so I started puckering my lips in photos with him so my face didn’t look like a giant round kickball. shut up.)
I dated him for two years and I was absolutely crazy about him. If you had told me then that we wouldn’t end up getting married, I would have told you that you were insane and should go jump off a tall structure into a moving body of water.
I still adore him - he is one of the kindest, most caring human beings I’ve ever met. He taught me everything I know about unconditional love … but ultimately, I was just too young to be in such a serious relationship.
When we broke up in August of 2006, I wrote a column about it, “Not Yet Ready for Mr. Right.”
Explaining why I ended the “perfect” relationship, I find myself repeating this mantra: “I don’t believe that when you meet Mr. Right, you suddenly become complete. If I were 30, with a variety of life experiences under my belt, I’d marry The Boyfriend in a heartbeat.
But I’m not. I need to make my own mistakes, to date Mr. Wrongs, to see what else life has to offer. A decade from now, I don’t want to wonder, “Can I really stand on my own two feet — without him?” I want to know I can.
This isn’t about finding a better man. It’s about finding a better me.
Prescient words.
