puzzle pieces from the clay

I proctored my last exam (ever!) today and then got drinks with the officemates. Damn, but I am going to miss the ability to have happy hour any time of the day. There have been countless summer afternoons where we whiled away the time drinkin’ and shootin’ the shit. It is one big, big perk of being in school. It’s hard to believe it’s been six years and now we spend a lot of time talking about the big stuff – job interviews, house hunting, weddings, the slightly scary prospect of kids. The times they are a-changin.

I really miss Husband to Be, he really needs to be home already. Even though he’s tired and working long hours, I envy him because he’s so busy that the time is flying by for him and dragging for me. Only 42 days until the wedding, folks! I’m equal parts incredibly excited and incredibly impatient.

But hey, it’s good to have time to miss someone, right? To really appreciate how much better life is when they’re with you, to know that homesickness has nothing to do with geography. I’m sure I’ve said it before but I never quite get over it – to have a relationship that is so easy and so right makes it really hard to remember a time when love meant work and pain and struggle and self-doubt. It’s hard to remember what it was like to be with guys who loved me when things were easy or who grew to be contemptuous of the very qualities they fell in love with or who felt the need to try and shape me into a more manageable version of myself. I can tell you that knowing now what I do about how love can be, I would never again fucking settle for someone who feels the need to be my handler.

In the relationship literature, there are somewhat competing theories about people's needs to be seen as they see themselves and the need to be seen in a more positive light. Do I want someone who really gets me or do I want someone who thinks I'm a superhero? They’re not mutually exclusive of course but how amazing is it when you find someone who sees you with crystal clear accuracy, all your flaws, all the chinks in the armor, and yet can still see you as the best possible version of yourself? It defies logic and yet that's the way I feel with HtB.

Being with someone who’s absolutely wrong for you makes it horribly easy to think the worst of yourself – that clearly you must be difficult and unlovable and have so many issues that no one could ever put up with you. But maybe the transitive property of love says that if someone amazing, sane, and well-adjusted loves me, then I must be, as I’ve always deep down known, all of those things too.