Ramblings of an almost-wife

One of the things I love about Facebook is that it is a virtual time portal, allowing us to reconnect with old acquaintances, reflect on our past lives and receive the occasional well-deserved bitch slap.

After accepting the friend request of a former flame, I proceeded to creep his wall and photos, all in the name of playing catch up, of course.  I discovered that he’s been  married to the same person for a number of years-he was always consistent like that-and has two beautiful kids.  Those could’ve been my kids.

Back in the day, we had been serious and even talked marriage.  I was planning on becoming the queen of our double-wide and friends teased us about future little Lysas and insert-name-of guy-here juniors running around.  In a moment of Facebook-provided reflection, I realized the truth behind why I broke up with him so long ago. The reasons  weren’t  because he had gained weight or was too wrapped up in maternal apron strings. Some 25 years later, I realized those superficial reasons masked an unrealized fear of abandonment. I had to leave him before he could leave me.  My teenage self was blinded by an impetuous, selfish nature. I was not able to look down the road and see that the qualities this guy possessed then would be enduring enough to exist now. But I also couldn’t know that society would lose its collective mind; that solid character and long term relationships would become decayed and dying relics of the past.

To this day, I cringe when my dad says, “Whatever happened to…? I sure did like that guy.” A kind, hard working  Christian family guy, of course he liked him.  Everyone did.  A parent really couldn’t ask for a better husband for their daughter. I guess I should have known if he was dad-approved by my dad, the guy really was a keeper.  But it was not my destiny to reign over his double-wide kingdom or produce any little Lysa and insert-name-of-guy-here juniors who would ride around in the back of a pick-up truck or get their little potty mouths washed out with soap. Instead, I would parent other lovely children who lived out those scenarios. So goes the world.

A friend asked me if this guy was available, would I retro date him; pick up where we left off.  No, I say. I’ve wrapped up our past lives together in a neat little box that I occasionally pay a visit. I do feel bad about the way things ended, but I have a feeling that he’s forgiven me. Our time as a couple was a special part of my life that I wouldn’t trade for any rewards reaped by time travel, were it possible, but our now future selves are completely different people.  Besides, he looks extremely happy with the wife that isn’t me. I wish him much joy with her and my almost kids.

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