He wrote I Love You in lipstick on my wardrobe mirror. Rather than smearing that same shade across my lips and planting a thank you, I love you too kiss on his cheek, I playfully drew a scale from 1 to 10 below his message. He grabbed the red lippy, and drew a circle to the right of the ‘10’. Our love was unscalable, our connection was unsalable, but, ironically, our relationship was unsailable.
We were the couple to be. We thrived off each other’s wit. Our banter was unsurpassable. We had the same coffee order (soy flat white, no sugar, please!), and we liked all the same foods. We often wore matching Ralph Lauren shirts (not in a Kath Day/Kel Knight way, obviously), and we had too many nicknames for each other. I knew that he got grumpy when he was hungry, and he knew that I couldn’t function when I was sleepy. He loved my family (he was the first guy to ever be approved by my older brother), and I loved his family (I wanted to adopt his little sister).
Why then, you ask, was that last (slightly cringe worthy…sorry!) paragraph written in past tense? It all sounds so ideal, right? Well, you know what they say: ‘good on paper…’ (No, I’m not about to quote the famous ‘good on paper, bad in bed’ SATC line!), ‘…doesn’t always equate to happily-ever-after’.
Sometimes, some of us find ourselves completely lost, without a reality-torch, within a love-hued haze. Sometimes, some of us lose the ability to define ourselves not in relation to our partner. Sometimes, some of us rely on our partner to provide us with happiness, rather than allowing them to simply add to our pre-existing happiness. And sometimes, some of us realise these facts, and cannot handle them.
It is healthy to be independent within an interdependent relationship, but it is unhealthy to be dependent on that interdependent relationship.
Allow me to decode my newly formed mantra: It is lovely to be in a relationship in which all of the previously stated things take place. It is not lovely, however, to allow these previously stated things to become your entire existence – to be the definition under your phonetically spelled out name.
Oh, get that ‘why would I listen to you, love Grinch!’ look off your face; I’m not suggesting that we choose a partner whom we don’t love entirely, just to keep our head above the water. Rather, I’m suggesting that we be conscious of our actions within the relationship, so as to prevent ourselves from drowning. Be conscious of friendships, and what it takes to maintain them. Be conscious of prior loves (tennis, reading, sewing) and don’t neglect them. Be conscious to approach work, study, and anything really, with the same ferocity as before. Basically, don’t think that all other doors must be closed, in order to open the one to our heart.
If we rely on our partner for our daily dose of happiness and validation, we put a lot of pressure on them and therefore on our relationship. And in some cases (hint: mine), that pressure is enough to crack the hull, and send the relationship to the bottom of the ocean.
So, how did I get the lipstick off my mirror? A few squirts of Easy-Off BAM, some paper towel, and hell of a lot of tears. But now, I can stand in front of it, look at myself clearly, and know what I have to do differently in my next pursuit of matching coffee orders, and ever-lasting banter sessions.
