Today, I Just Want to Cry

What do you do when the life you intentionally created feels like a consolation prize?

Photo by Louis Galvez on Unsplash

I have two friends. They are my best friends. They are married. Today, they are married 25 years. I could not be happier. I mean, how many couples in today’s world have marriages that not only survive, but thrive, for that long? Not many. Honestly, my friends really are the very definition of #RelationshipGoals. As soon as I opened Facebook and became aware of their anniversary today (which I should have known), I wanted to cry. I’ve wanted to cry all damn day, but why? Well, dear Reader….Why? is an excellent question. There is only one thing I can do when I am faced with situations and circumstances that I cannot make sense of. I write. So here we are.

If you’re a man reading this, I apologize in advance for the analogy I am about to use, but I’ve got nothing better. I describe my best friend’s life like the perfect black cocktail dress. Before Covid, I visited my friends every summer for probably eight years in a row. I would stay at their home with her, her husband, and their four epically wonderful children - G, J, Z, and T. One year, I dyed the oldest child’s waist-length blond hair fuchsia, teal, and silver. She was 13. G’s grandmother, who I have known since I was 20 years old, was super less than impressed. We had a ball, though! I’ve had an inside joke with their son - the only boy - for as long as I can remember. He and I just walk up to one another and randomly yell, “Your FACE!” at each other’s face. For no reason. That’s basically still our greeting today, “Hey, J…your FACE!” J replies, “YOUR FACE!” Why do we do this? Honestly, I can’t remember, but I know I’m the one who started it. And the Littles, who frankly, aren’t so little anymore. Z and I bonded over a shared love of her squishy toy turtle when she was three, snuggled up in fleece blankets on the oversized couch. For T, I would always be “Aunt Lori,” that lady who came around once a year and cooked chocolate chip pancakes. Candy for breakfast. I’m that kind of aunt!

I love visiting. The time with them is absolutely precious, and I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world. M’s life is like a lovely expensive black cocktail dress that looks pretty great on me, but doesn’t quite fit right. After about five days or so, I start pulling at the seams and hem. Shame. I do love this dress. I would love for it to fit, but it doesn’t. And, it’s not just M’s “dress.” It’s all the dresses at that store she shopped at. You know it. Chances are you shopped there too - The Marriage and Motherhood store. It’s just not for me. I know that because of my own failures at marriage and motherhood.

Do I wish I had M’s life? Not really. I love my life. I am an expat educator living in China. I live in a beautiful apartment, and I don’t worry about money. Like ever. I have amazing friends who are more like family to me than my actual family. I certainly speak to them more. I’ve traveled all over the world. But love? That’s where things get tricky. It’s not like love is unavailable here. I mean, it hasn’t been easy to find love living abroad, but then, it wasn’t easy to find in my home country either. In fact, I’ve had more divorces and failed relationships at home, so I actually have a better batting average in China (see, I gotcha fellas…an analogy for you). So the fact that I love my life and I don’t want M’s life makes all the feels I’m feeling today even more confusing. Why, dear Reader, do I want to cry? Why does the life I have intentionally created for myself feel like a consolation prize?

Maybe I’m lying to myself. Let me think about it. Maybe I do want that beautiful, stable, American love story. I don’t know. I didn’t think so. Maybe I am resentful that when I married the first time, it was out of rebellion, and when I married the second time, it was out of desperation. What? Rebellion and desperation don’t make good fodder for happily ever after? Gee…no one told me. Maybe…no, not maybe, definitely…I am DEFINITELY resentful that I wasted 18 years of my life loving someone who gave me no choice but to walk away. Why did I stay in that so long? I thought it was love, but in actuality, it was fear. Ironically, his fear of living with me, and my fear of living without him kept us the perfect co-dependent couple. I guess if I am being honest, and dear Reader, I really am working this out in real time as I write, the truth is I am sad because I never did find that complimentary partner to buy land with, build a dream home with, to build a legacy with. I’m three weeks away from my 47th birthday. The odds that I will get to celebrate a silver anniversary with my best friend and forever person get increasingly unlikely with each passing year. K and M’s anniversary is DEFINITELY something to celebrate. But also, what they have is a reminder of what I do not.

Photo by Sigmund on Unsplash

But then I ask myself - why do I care!? I am clearly unconventional, and I happen to believe that finding love later in life maybe be a better way to go. I’ve had time to grow into myself, heal myself, and frankly, calm the “bat-shit crazy” down more than a bit. I am a better person and partner today than I was 20 or even 10 years ago. Be that as it may, today…and maybe just today, it feels like something is missing. So what will I do? Today, I will open a bottle of wine, pour a glass (or 3) and hug my inner child, my “Little Lori,” just a little harder and a little longer. Today, I will publish this piece and put my lament out into the world, hoping these words will land in the heart of somebody out there. Today, I will believe that I am not alone because I have you. I will allow myself to care about conventions I have lost, either intentionally or by accident, but only for today because tomorrow is a new day. Who knows, maybe romantic love is right around the corner, but if it isn’t, I love me, and for the first time in my life, that is enough. Or it will be…tomorrow.