A few years ago, I wrote about how I wasn't writing in this blog anymore because I felt like my life had finally begun. I had closed not a chapter, not a novel, but several volumes of unhappiness, of longing, of searching and was in the beginning chapters of a novel with my Virgo, ready to scribble our existence across its pages creating a new story, the story of us. The thing about life, though, is that, like a living language, it's ever changing in ways most people can't fathom, and in a turn of events I truly couldn't fathom, that novel we began, Bug Warrior and Kelligralamb, the Early Years: What Happens When a Video Game Virtuoso and a Buffy the Vampire Slayer Fanatic Fall in Love, turned out not to be a novel after all but a novella instead.
I didn't come here to talk about our breakup, though, because, unlike almost anything and everything that happened in my life before my Virgo came over one night three years ago to hang LED lights in my room and pretty much never left, the premature ending of my story is for me and not you. What I will tell you, however, is that while the ending might be classified under the genre of tragedy, if you look at our novella as a whole, it would be anything but that.
Our novella would be chapters filled with
road trips and plane trips and
Hudson and Jazzy and Hudson's IVs and
French accents and mon amies and
picadillo and Japanese curry and coffee and no-topping taro tea and
Metal Gear Solid and Ms. Pac Man and
Turnstile and Turnover and
Lineage's vegan iced coffee and
Caramel and Cocoa and
ridiculous questions about impossible scenarios and
craft beer and breweries and
HappyVegan Baker and Aguacate and Vegan Cuban Cuisine and
Mr. and Mrs. Final Fantasy VII and
my obsession with giving cards and
my Virgo's love for my mom and
Beatrix and
the J ♡ K ring I can't bear to not wear and
walking at night and
weekends in bed and
Morning baby I love yous and
I love you muchos and
I love you demasiados,
all bookended by Buffy the Vampire Slayer and The Vampire Diaries
And the chapters themselves would be filled with stories about two people who loved each other, who love each other still, who after three years of building a life and working towards a shared future learned that timing and circumstance are just as important to a relationship as love and intention - or at least one of them did; that's something I'm still trying hard to accept.
What I have accepted, though, is that although, yes, the loss of a relationship, the loss of companionship, the loss of a built in plus one and a future that had been semi mapped out is something to mourn, the relationship itself isn't something to regret. When things ended with my ex-Glenn as well as all the times we separated before the actual end, I fixated on having wasted X amount of years of my life. I now know that wasn't true for the twenty years he and I were together, and I know it isn't true for the three years shared by my Virgo and me.
We may not be together anymore, but, in a surprising turn of events coming from a woman who used to say she would go back and change specific painful things if ever given the chance (something likely I'll explore here one day), I wouldn't trade those three years and the chapters that filled them despite the negatives and the way things are now. The giddiness and excitement, the happiness I felt, the fulfillment and the contentment, the lessons I learned about relationships and myself and the way I've grown through my Virgo's love and patience are things I'll always be thankful for, things I'll treasure forever, and while I have to admit that this harrowing time of change and loss might be easier if I focused on what was wrong instead of what was right, I refuse, after wholeheartedly, unreservedly loving somebody and sharing every aspect of my body and mind and life with him to turn it into a negative memory, and so, when I think about us, even though, yes, it makes me sad, sadder than I've been in a long, long time, I choose to remember us
happy
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