The Road to Happiness
Love is certainly more than a four letter word. It’s the catalyst for most of our hopes and dreams. However, it doesn’t always work out as planned. We may not get the storybook beginning or ending. However, it’s certainly worth the journey. I thought love and marriage would all come together as it had appeared in my dreams, but I was very wrong about that.
I met my future husband at twenty-six years old. I thought my time had come to wear a flowing white wedding gown and proceed into marital bliss. He had something different in mind, and I waited six long years to be a bride. The relationship thing just didn’t seem to work smoothly for us, although I had announced on our first date that he was the one for me.He laughed at my notion, but we did begin to date. It lasted three months before I broke up with him. I simply concluded that he was a too demanding of a boyfriend. After all, I was working full-time as a special education teacher and attending graduate school. I sent him an e-mail declaring that he was not the one for me.
I waited about six months to admit to myself that I missed him. A friend invited me to attend a get-together at his home, where I met his new girlfriend. She was a sweet and kind woman who worked as a chiropractor. I can’t remember her name, but I do remember feeling as if she was making party appetizers in “my kitchen,” and that wasn’t in my dreams. It was probably immature, yet I started an all-out campaign to get rid of the competition.
Over the next few weeks, I rekindled a friendship with my then ex-boyfriend. He was overwhelmed, I think, but flattered nevertheless. I began to write love notes and openly seek his affection, and before too long, nature took it course. We made love for the first time, and broke up again two weeks later. I just wasn’t ready.
The break-up and make-up scenarios played out until I was thirty-one years old. Sometimes, I ended the relationship. I stopped worrying about breaking up and so did he. It just became our thing to part ways and get back together. The making up was often the most passionate part of the whole ordeal.
After five years of this back and forth romance, I realized that my biological clock was ticking. My soon-to-be husband was never a fiancé. While we were taking a break, he went off for an extended stay in Europe. I received an occasional postcard or email, but it wasn’t anything special. We had stopped most of our communication months before he decided to visit Europe. Fortunately, I had conveniently left some of my things at his home and kept a few of his things at mine. He called before leaving so that we could exchange items and say goodbye.
A few months went by before I had an epiphany. It was time to get married. I e-mailed him out of the blue and announced that I’d contacted a priest. However, I did not get a reply. I sent a second and third e-mail, and he finally responded only to say we could talk about it when he returned to the United States. We didn’t talk about getting back together. It was more the case of scheduling time with the priest and setting a date. My soon-to-be husband did change his mind a couple of times, as he felt we should date another year. I didn’t listen and kept going with my plans.
Those marriage minded e-mails were sent in October, and I was married the following February. Many years have gone by and we are still married. My road to marriage wasn’t smooth, but we are happy.
Love has no rhyme or reason. Yet I can’t imagine my life if I hadn’t pursued it. Yes, I did seek and find all the things which my hopes and dreams were made of, as I am now Agnes, the wife and mother. My husband didn’t chase me. Frankly, I did the chasing, as well as most of the running away. I’m fortunate that my race to marriage had an almost perfect, but mostly imperfect storybook ending.