Thinking back on past relationships, I – like most of you all – tend to remember the good times. The “talk-all-night-long, surprised that the sun is coming up conversations”, the way we find ourselves wanting to share EVERYTHING, right now, with that other person. The hand-holding. The public displays of affection given with total disregard to the masses, because damnit, we’re in love, you assholes. The newness of it all is so alluring, so intoxicating, that weeks or months or years later (depending on the time-frame of the relationship) it’s all we can do to recapture the early days.
I’m sitting in the snow in Tahoe, waiting on my friends, and am faced with plenty of time to observe and ruminate on the many various relationships of the people walking by. Some are holding hands, and the cynical side of me instantly labels them as a couple newly in love. Others walk side-by-side in the easy comfortability that longer-term relationships bring. I see couples with small children, obviously exasperated by their role as a parent to their unruly young-un’s, and even a few pairs that don’t seem to be on speaking terms with each other right now. And I think of all the relationships in my life, noting that more than a few of them are former boyfriends-turned-friends, and I realize that even given our platonic status – a status that I’m not only very comfortable with, but in some cases, actually have demanded – there’s part of me that is still longing to return to the way we were (cheezy Barbra Streisand song notwithstanding.)
Why can’t I be comfortable with the way we are instead?