The What If
I always imagine that the lives of the people in my life would have been better, if they would not have met me.
Today I looked at The Beau, who I met when he was 28 or 27. He always had dark circles under his eyes, but today I noticed how much he had aged in the last years. He used to be very trim, very fit, lean and muscular but now he is pale, and his face got a bit wrinkly and I couldn't help but thinking that he looked very tired.
I know I demand much of the people I am with. I am an attention-seeker, a narcissist, insecure, vain, shallow and silly. I want ultimate freedom but also demand to be cared for. I hate my moods to be disrespected but can't read other people's moods-at least it's an enduring critique, which I have not only received from former lovers but also from friends (who are supposed to take my side!).
I like my birthday to be remembered but I can never remember his. I forget anniversaries, rarely buy presents but am upset when he buys me gifts I don't like. (When that happens, he takes them back, gets me something different although to his credit that has not happened for a long time.)
Somehow I have never imagined to be in a relationship, that is despite its openness so monogamous. I have never expected to be with someone for so long.
Most of my relationships end in an organic way-they fade into easy camaraderie, sometimes turn into lighthearted affairs. Which is what I really want-people who are friends and skilled, fun lovers, but then know when to leave you alone and not insist on invading. People who are loyal and steadfast.
The best thing about our marriage is that The Beau never had to be told-on weekends he gets up before me to make my coffee, which I have in bed, but breakfast is in the living room, because I am not that fond of eating in bed. He always gets my coffee right, not something I could say of others. I am always slightly astonished that sex is still good. I expected it to turn boring after three years.
He usually warns me before he turns on the vacuum cleaner because I have an aversion to the sound of vacuum cleaners.
He sometimes nags me about cleaning the house, but he never keeps me from going out or having other men although he is a bit smug, when one of my affairs don't work out. When one of his former friends made disparaging remarks about my feminism to him, he cut ties with him and defriended him, without me prompting him. He always encourages me with my fan fics, discusses plots and kinks with me. (ETA: He adores my fandom friends! He thinks they're a great bunch of people! Which they are!)
One evening I asked him, if he minds it that I don't won't ever have children, after someone we met suggested we should have kids and he pulled me towards him and said, "but I already have one."
In a way he is right-he has always taken care of me, has done so much for me. He has, in many ways, always lived his life around mine, and at times I feel guilty.
I supposed he is the love of my life, but it sometimes is such a burden for the heart, such a responsibility. Sometimes I fear my heart is not strong enough for this.
I also feel I have aged him, selfishly kept him away from living a fuller, more irresponsble fun life-which is maybe the reason I try to encourage him to go out and date other people, have a bit of fun. (I fantasize about setting him up with other women although I'm not even sure what kind he likes. I mean just because he is married to an Asian looking femme doesn't mean its his preference. After all brown eyes and brown hair are definitely not mine!)
Enough of the rambling, and no, I am not drunk.