I’m not looking to get married — I’m already married to my career. I’m not looking for someone with whom I can share a nice house and a white picket fence — I bought my own home and painted the fence myself. I’m not looking for someone to grow old with because I’m secretly hoping to live forever… and forever is a long fucking time to spend with just one person. (Besides, I’m easily bored.)
In my twenties, I never gave much thought to the idea of finding a forever partner. I wasn’t against the idea, nor was it something I hoped for. I didn’t think about it because it wasn’t important to me.
I’ve been thinking about it lately, and for a number of reasons, “forever” still isn’t something I’m interested in. It’s still not important to me.
With that said, this relationship is the first one I’ve had where I’ve realized (from the very beginning) it would end. Unlike relationships past, its ephemerality has always been at the forefront of my mind. This reality isn’t nagging or looming, but it’s certainly present.
In a way, the constant awareness of transience has allowed me to be more honest and open with J than I’ve been with other people — it’s given me the space to be who I am without demanding that I consider the implications of my actions on tomorrow, next month, or next year. I don’t count on sharing tomorrow with J, so I might as well live for today.
I don’t worry that what I say or do might make him leave me — I already know he will leave me, or I’ll leave him. I’ve given so much of myself to him because I know he won’t hold onto it for an eternity. At some point, we’ll both let go. I’m not his to keep, nor is he mine, so we might as well share what we have while there’s time.