I wonder frequently what makes couples happy. I suppose happy couples never wonder about happiness. They are just happy.
I look at JP and his fiancée and find a few very strong reasons to keep them together, being their tendency to gossip the strongest one. I just see what keep them together. I don’t see what can potentially set them apart. And I wonder if what is less perceptible now will become more and more evident.
Ti has a new girlfriend. They discuss a lot about having different opinions on this and that. They could fool a less attentive listener, not me. When they act or when they emit an opinion, they are very much the same.
No girl in this world seems to be suitable for Andy. I think he will be a far better someone with age, and, maybe then, he will find an “old girl” with the art and patience required to live by his side.
We are all different. When someone is created, that specific “mold” is surely destroyed. That is acceptable and even interesting. It is the role that such differences play in relationships that amazes me. In fact, it’s rather curious how differences grow with time, when the contrary should be the norm.
Very early on my relationship with Paul I could see the differences. They made me feel uncomfortable for too many years. He didn’t mind because he lived in his pedestal, like so many men live, and so he didn’t care about the way I was and the way I felt. Now and then he produced an exquisite adjective, showing that he wasn’t totally unaware of my personality. He was aware and didn’t really care. He looked at my own ways as curious and amusing. The last adjective he used to describe me when we first met was “macambúzia”, a rather curious Portuguese word to say “melancholy”.
I lost my teen and twenties melancholy because, being incapable to find someone or love someone (it should be the same!), I must be one of creatures in this world with an acute need and sense of two. Paul was there. He was always there. In that sense, my relationship with Paul was successful. When I needed, he was kind and reliable.
Over the last two or three years he showed signs that our differences also bothered him. I suppose he would like someone less wild, preferably with perm and pearls. I could never change my existentialist looks. He was luckier than me, because I felt such differences for a very long time.
I write all this with profound sadness. He is not around and still those differences weight on me. The stories of unsuccessful relationships are about two, seldom one. I blame myself for staying in this relationship just because I couldn’t find someone to love. And now, that I am alone, I can see that this is how it should have been. When we are not able to find that someone, better live alone.
If I could go back I would have accepted differences, because they always exist. But I believe differences have to be like some tempos in classical music: different… ma non troppo.