We weren’t meant to be together. In a world where freewill scores over fate, I often wonder what made me take this decision. I could have easily refused. After all, I had refused so many in the past. May be I wanted to get things done. May be I was just tired of looking around. He was at least half decent. He wasn’t my boy of dreams, but all the items on the checklist were taken care of. Things not in the checklist were there too. He was good looking. Marriage happened despite violent confusion. Non-violent persistence simply won. We were casual friends playing the roles of a married couple.
Initially, he gave me more than I gave him. Someone had to begin. He was courageous enough to give without expecting. That helped. I was childish and insolent. But with his patience, I started growing up. All of us eventually do, don’t we? The free sex and impromptu make out sessions were fun. I felt free and independent and had someone to always look out for me. With little things and big. That was comforting and addictive. There was company at a party filled with random strangers or a family gathering filled with unwanted relatives. We had each other. We were never alone or embarrassed or left out. There were bad days too. Was leaving everything behind worth it? I am a glorified housewife now in an alien country. Was that worth him, the boy who wasn’t the boy of my dreams? We argued, debated and fought to tears. We were mean and insensitive at times.
Over time, we learnt to respect the other and their differences. Let’s say we just gave up trying to change. Ourselves or the other. We revisited our prejudices. We learnt about prejudices that we didn’t know had existed at all. After all, everyone thinks they are good till they discover otherwise. The problem is what we choose to do after we discover. Do we choose to reform or let our ego and ignorance win the battle? We learnt to say sorry. We laughed while fighting. We laughed over our fights. We had no choice or we didn’t think we did. There was always separation and divorce, but the status quo wasn’t too bad either. We learnt to float. Slowly, but surely, though we didn’t realize while it was happening, we were in love. He wasn’t the boy of my dreams. He couldn’t have been. The boys of our dreams aren’t based on real people with flaws and unexpected surprises. Our imagination is rich, but not fine combed. We don’t model our boys of dreams based on people we see in real life. We don’t even model them by studying ourselves. We model it based on our conditioning. But love is an act of generosity without realizing it. Our hearts are capable of loving, some times forgetting to measure. Even measure if someone is the right type of boy. Looking back, I just wonder how much two nice people can accomplish by just being nice. They can even fall in love.