When I was young(er) I wrote a book entitled “Sarah the Cardinal and Adam the Blue Jay (the creative part of my brain was still developing…cut me some slack).”
Sarah and Adam fell madly in love after a viewing of Aladdin at the drive-in, lived under a thousand rainbows, and reproduced copiously whilst living happily ever after in their 2-story bird mansion. It happened.
In my fragile, malleable little mind, this is how relationships worked. Actually, to this day, I find myself moderately surprised when they don’t end in rainbows and monogamy (blind optimism, you slay me!).
I was always told that relationships serve the purpose of finding what you can and can’t tolerate in a person (sneaky, sneaky way of convincing you that they each hold some valuable meaning and are worth the hours spent sobbing into faux-feather pillows. Disagree!).
The idea here, is that you eventually come out with a relatively polished version of your perfect mate (and then cry yourself to sleep nightly because you realize the hybrid of Edward Cullen and Paul Walker doesn’t actually exist).
I am obsessed with relationships. And people, and the success and failure of marriage and the actions and words of people who proclaim to the mountain tops this notion of love.
And I used to believe so adamantly in it.
This is not where I throw a pity party and stab at the injustices of my past relationships.
This is where I simply inquire if love and relationships and marriage, like the rest of the world, are just not what they used to be?