The honeymoon period is often the time when things are perfect, but choosing selflessness over addressing the minor gripes leads to irreparable damage later on.
I don’t want to sound what I am (or at least what I’m trying to hide), which is the crying man-child pulled out of the warm familiarities of the womb-like grip of a meaningful relationship, cast out into the cold, staid world of singledom, with only a raucous slap on the posterior to see if I’m still breathing; but wah.
However, the romantic comedy/drama I starred in, suddenly halted by a twist in the narrative with the projectors malfunctioning, catching fire and taking the cinema with it, has eked me a modicum of wisdom, or at least, a resistance to do the same thing again. That being said, my split was extremely adult. The deep love that we share, and indeed the towering connection still stands, but it will forever remain a darkened symbol of failure, a condemned building that neither of us will step foot in again. As there was no one thing that split us, you do tend to paw at the four thousand piece jigsawed mess in order to find a solution, with no complete image to guide you. Clearly, in the post-mortem, we were not strong enough to overcome the endurance of comfort.
All those small moments where I decided to put my feelings aside, for the good of us, represented the first tiny rocks of a wall that was now impossible to scale.
However, the point of this piece is to address those who are entering a new relationship, particularly with that impossible figure that enthralls us, that aquiline beau that dances through the monochrome pallor of our lives. The one you feel you don’t deserve. You’re intoxicated on the possibilities, the borders of lands anew, ignoring the twisting vine and jagged rocks.
The honeymoon period has another subtextual value, beyond the impulsive picnics and volcanic sex drives; it is the prelude of what is to come. While everything has that new relationship smell, it behooves you not to breathe that and nothing else, to not do what I did, which was to overindulge for romance’s sake.
I gave too much. I didn’t want her to leave, so I did everything I could to ensure she’d stay. What I’ve discovered, is that there’s a difference between bending the knee in romance, and bending it too far. As the concrete is still drying, what you do echoes in relationship eternity, and all those small moments where I decided to put my feelings aside, for the good of us, represented the first tiny rocks of a wall that was now impossible to scale. Sadly, raising these issues in order to reap change (and indeed save us), brought conflict, an unanswerable question of why do you feel this now? We were stuck in a grating cold cycle of warmth. Long-held, but unvoiced concerns bubbled to the surface, bitterly remaining unsolved, so they’d hang over numerous foreign arguments, poisoning well meaning social engagements, clouding our better moments. I didn’t have it in me to point out the certain aspects grated me, as I felt it didn’t matter then. I had her. But by the time it mattered, it was too late. My complaint was now with the very landscape of the city that we built. There was grand love that made the streets shine, but I felt wary walking those same streets at night.
As for who to blame, I blame me. We both set the boundaries and lived by them, I wanted them changed. Put simply, I waiting too long. Recasting when the concrete is set, led to erosion, then fissure, and finally, splitting in twain.
It seems simple, even childish to say, but if they truly want to be with you, they’ll stay. In the earliest days, when things are perfect, you need to ensure you maintain true to yourself, and not be fearful of pushing for what you need and what you want out of this, if you truly value the relationship, and indeed the person you share it with.