Happy Little Stories

"And I really like him!"

D is telling me about her latest crush - the guy with a girlfriend. It's funny, I think to myself as I give her the same advice she gave me three years ago, how the tables have turned.

Back then, I was naive enough to believe that our "can be broken" philosophy from high school would hold, but hopes and dreams were shattered as I never lived up to the "homewrecker" (quickly abbreviated to "HW") nickname my friends had given me. Mike never broke up with Melissa - and I ended up being what everyone had told me I would be: his bit on the side.

"Can be broken!" I jokingly tell her. We are now both old and wise enough to know that the underlying complications of this philosophy are far more complex than those three simple words.

"But she's so nice!" We are now talking about object-of-affection's girlfriend. "And they have the perfect relationship." I disagree. If the relationship was perfect, this guy would not be hitting on my best friend (and he is hitting on her, despite her confusion and denial over the whole situation).

I know nothing about him - only what D tells me. I imagine it would have been much the same with her and Mike three years ago. And back then, she had been able to make the right judgements about him, things my infatuation blinded me against. She assures me that current crush is the nicest guy there is (much the way I used to feel about Mike), but to me he seems like a somewhat confused sleazeball, and I voice my concerns.

In fact, the only difference between her situation, and the one I used to have, is the fact that D believes her guy has the "perfect relationship", wheras Mike never gave any indication that there might have been any goodness in his relationship. He was constantly complaining about Melissa and trying to break up with her every two weeks, yet here we are - three years later - she is still "shithead", and they are still together.

"Are you sure they have the perfect relationship?" I ask her again.

"Yes!"

"But how do you know? The way I see it, if his realtionship was thatgreat he wouldn't be flirting with you!"

We discuss the perfect relationship. I claim, here, that my relationship is perfect. Yes, we have our occasional glitches, but it is - in many ways - perfect. Random people in the park telling us how great we are together perfect. He is perfect (for me). I wouldn't want to change anything about him (well, some Paul Walker streaks in the hair would be nice, but not mandatory) or our relationship: almost two years into it and he can still make me feel shy, give me goosebumps and have me in a teeth-gritting sexual frenzy (he is oh so hot!).

"Does he talk about her a lot?" I ask D. "Does he have happy little stories?"

"Happy little stories?"

"Yes, you know - the nice stories that you can't help but tell. I have many!"

"I'm not quite sure what you mean, give me an example?"

I had been reciting happy little stories to Jim over the past week (Jim, who thinks I have "tried to distance" myself from him. I haven't. I just couldn't handle his overbearing neediness anymore).

"Okay, here's one: when we went to the snow, Boy tried to teach my how to snowboard but I got scared and teary and upset, so we stopped and he bought me hot chocolate. Then, the next day he bought me a private lesson, with a proper instructor."

I had felt so silly that day, throwing a tantrum because I was too afraid to go down the slope, and thought he would let my hands go. He had given up his snowboarding time to teach me, and I had basically wasted it. I apologised in tears over hot chocolate, but he told me not to worry (he always does). Early the next morning, he went up and booked me the private lesson, which turned out to be awesome. I actually look forward to going snowboarding now.

"Oh, so it's like when you do something nice..."

"Something like that."

There are many others, often things he does that I take for granted, but know I shouldn't.

Like the day I was grumpy because I had to study, and there was no coke in the house. I sat at my computer sulking, and he ran to the gas station down the road and bought me a 1.5 litre coke.

Or market day at uni, where I oohed and ahhed over a haematite choker, but couldn't buy it then because I had no cash. I told the lady I would come back later, but after class he was waiting for me, necklace in hand.

Or just yesterday, when he showed up hiding a daffodil behind his back.

He is everything I ever dreamed of, and more. With him, there is more love and passion than I ever imagined possible: and I have been told, so many times by all kinds of people: family, friends and randoms, that I am a very lucky girl.

They have no idea.

"Oh I think he does have happy stories. Just not for me." D says after contemplation.

"So, he is keeping them from you, why? Because he doesn't want to put you off. Look, you have to kiss him."

"What?!"

I explain to her that it's the only way. He could be in love with her (to which she remarks "yeah right!") but too timid and confused to make the move. What if he breaks up with his girlfriend (who I have decided is really his security blanket: he has only ever had the one girlfriend, and has been with her since highschool) and the relationship doesn't work out?

"I think he's afraid." I tell her. Yeah, maybe it's wrong. He has a girlfriend and I am encouraging D to kiss him. But then, he is the one flirting with her - he could well be in love with her (who wouldn't); but how will they ever find out if he continues to hide behind the safety of his relationship, fearing that he might be rejected if he leaves it, and D continues to lose sleep at night, pondering over the confusing situations and mixed signals.

Feelings are feelings, there are no wrongs or rights where they are concerned. When I began to fall in love with Boy, I had a boyfriend. I was too afraid to leave him, not because I was afraid of hurting him - but because I was afraid my feelings would not be reciprocated by Boy. It made my relationship (if it can even be called a relationship - it didn't last for much longer than a month) very painful: when we had sex, I felt like I was cheating on Boy.

We discuss more possible scenarios until D is bribed away with the promise of food. Left alone, I smile to myself as I remember more happy little stories.

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