It’s easy to think “this must be forever”—to sink comfortably into a loving, exciting, seamless relationship. You love each other. The way he sends a warm smile your way from across the room. And he adores how easily you laugh, how easily you build him up. You’ve met his parents, his siblings, and quickly you feel that connection with them strengthen over time. Your friends know he’s sticking around, he’s not just another two-week fling. And your parents always ask how he’s doing, how his classes are going; they grow concerned if they haven’t seen him in more than a few days.
After maybe a year or so, it’s easy to envision a future: getting married when you’re a little older, moving in together, having two maybe three kids. You’ll become the wife and mom you always imagined you could be. All because you found him, the other half that’s rumored to be hiding somewhere in the world.
Suddenly, the endless days made up of laughter grow shorter and then scarcer. They’re replaced by days filled with suspicion and jealousy: him assuring you he just wants to google something real quick, but sorting through your texts instead. You worrying about who he’s really spending time with on late weekend nights. The two of you begin forbidding one another from seeing certain people, going to certain events. You begin to despise him; he begins to despise you.
You can tell your friends feel uneasy when he’s around now. And your parents are no longer fond of your relationship either. Tensions and arguments with your loved ones become more frequent; “you deserve better,” is the majority of what you get from them, along with sighs and worried looks.
But these days filled with suspicion and envy to grow scanter. They’re replaced by days driven with indifference and distance. You no longer argue about your distrust and insecurities. Because you no longer care—you no longer have the strength to.
The love, or rather the idea of and desire for love, never disappeared. The distant vision of him standing at the altar and playing with your children in the backyard is faint, but it’s there. You still want to see him succeed, to see him happy, fulfilled, complete. And you want to see yourself succeed, to see yourself happy, fulfilled, and complete too—even more.
As it turns out, your relationship was only meant to last a chapter or two. You caught a glimpse of love—everlasting love—and should be as ready, as excited as ever to find the real deal. And when you do find it, you’ll have that chapter of your life to flip back to. You’ll be able to reflect on what love is and isn’t, what a relationship should and shouldn’t be, and be confident that you won’t make the same mistakes again. But until then, just love yourself. You are and will always be the most important person in your life.
