**Warning**This is an extremely long, boring post about my past love life, written purely for therapeutic reasons. I would urge you not to waste your time reading it.
If it's one thing I hate about being home, it's that I run into people that I would be completely content to never see again. Ever.
A couple of weeks ago, when I was at Wal-Mart, I was conducting a smell-test on a fabric softener (I could spend hours sniffing things - candles, detergent, whatever. Ask Scout). Anyway, I was so involved in smelling the yumminess of this product that I failed to realize that I was standing right.next.to.an.ex. When I turned around to tell my mom about how scrumptious the fabric softener was, him and I practically ran into each other. He walked off as I scrambled to find my mom. No words were spoken. How's that for an uncomfortable situation?
The break-up between him and I lacked closure - which is the story of my life. We never really technically broke up - I guess I just got sick of the way he treated me. I always felt like a nuisance, I never came first, and everything was on his terms.
The final straw was New Years, when we went up to Canada with some friends. We got in a fight about something, and when I caught up with him at the bar, he was hanging on some other girl. As I recall, he slept in the hallway of the hotel that night. When we got back to town, we didn't speak again. And we lived five houses away from each other.
So a month later, I was engaged to Scout. I can't even begin to tell you what a whirlwind that was - I felt like I had known Scout for 20 years. We were meant to be.
Some part of me felt a responsibility to tell this ex, who I had really never *technically* broken up with, that it was completely (if not obviously) over. I stopped by his house one day, and before I could even say anything, he noticed the ring. He begged me to reconsider and to give him another chance. Umm, no.
So fast forward to yesterday, when I ran into my "first love's" family. Oh, man. This is an entirely different ballgame.
I was in love with Bryan (not his real name) for three years. We were really good friends, but I wasn't the girl he was interested in. I watched as he dated most of my friends, and waited for the day that he might want me. Well, that day finally came during my last six weeks of high school. He had graduated the year before, and he was getting ready to go to basic training.
Our relationship was a short one (again, the story of my life) - about six months. Four months of it was while he was away. I knew something was wrong when he didn't call me the day he got back from Georgia. He was home for ten days before he had to go to his first duty station. I thought we would spend every waking moment together before he had to leave again - we hung out once in the first three days he was home (his family hated me by the way. Why, I don't know. I've always been a hit with the parents). Anyway, I decided that rather and sit around and wait, like I had been doing since I met him, I was going to end it so that I could move on with my life. When I did, he asked me to marry him and go to Washington, D.C. together (What is up with guys that don't want a girl until she decides to leave? I'll never understand that).
Now looking back on it, I was a pretty smart 18 year-old. I had just been accepted to Seattle Pacific University, and knew that I would much rather have a good education than a bad husband. How I knew that at the time, I'll never know (seriously, I had an intoxicating love for him. I really felt like no one, in the history of mankind, had ever felt this way about another human being. Ahh. To be 18 again). Anyway, I declined his proposal. His family hated me even more. He was married a year later.
So I ran into Bryan's mom and sister yesterday at Wal-Mart. I had just filled my cart with about 42 Lean Cuisine frozen dinners and a bunch of bananas. I walked around the corner, and my face became hot and flushed as I realized who I had just run into. But of course, I put on my "it's so good to see you" smile, and pretended to care how they were doing.
So then Bryan's mom went on to tell me that Bryan and his wife are so happy, they have three kids (which I had to see pictures of), they have a 2800 square foot house, the wife gets to stay at home because Bryan makes *so much money*, they drive two brand-new cars, on and on and on. Of course, she was saying all of this in what may have seemed to be a sweet tone, but it was more like look what you're missing out on. And of course, being my usual, charming self, I said, "Well, I always knew Bryan was destined for big things. Please tell him I said hello."
Scout must have somehow felt my discomfort, because my cell phone rang at that very moment. I silently thanked God and said, "Well, that's my husband. I better let you go. It was very nice to see you."
I guess as much as it makes me want to vomit when I see people like this, it makes me realize something about my life: I am extremely happy, I love my husband more than I've loved anything or anyone in my life, I am well taken care of (in every possible way), and I snatched up the best possible husband that any girl could ever hope for (sometimes, I'm still amazed that he picked me). When I dream about the future, Scout is always in it. And nothing in my past matters any more.
I am one lucky girl.