He’s Engaged and it Feels so Good

I adored him once, although I hardly knew him.

He was many good things. Things I looked for, things I hoped for, things I dreamt of.

We developed a connection across the country in the way all great romances start, and of course I considered the idea of destined design, but to my unhappy ending, a luckier candidate obtained him before my arrival.

Right before my arrival, if we're being technical. We're not.

And so the story goes this way: I disconnect him from my life in all of the modern ways we were connected. And maybe a real connection never did exist. Regardless, I move on with peace and slight awareness that he was a man I could have fallen in love with had fate been written that way. It wasn't.

Time does its thing, and I find myself in the current future, or present depending on your angle of perspective, and here I am crushing on a new and equally handsome fellow.

This one, to my convenience, lives in my same city and we hold in person conversations, quite often, as a matter of fact.

The problem? He's passive. He's indirect. He sends mixed messages--but he's kind and intelligent and intriguing and a friend so I justify it and allow myself to live in this place of confusion. This place of wonder and blindness. The place that starts off hopelessly exciting but quickly turns into a personal hell of turmoil.

I was living there when I got the news. Engaged. My original idea of husband material was unexpectedly and suddenly engaged to that one who was luckier and beat me to the city and his affection.

I feel many things that I have no right to feel, and I feel shaken and shocked, and minimally envious--but these feelings were only initial and mostly false like the relationship we never had.

Because next, and most importantly, I felt joy. I felt reassurance.

Soul mates do exist.

One look at their gushy giggling Christmas pictures with an adorable, and random, puppy and you could not deny that God himself designed these two humans to be one.

I was happy for my make believe ex-husband, because he was happy. And not just this but his happiness was real and true, and, by the looks of it, well deserved.

And so, on top of joy, I felt freedom.

I was free from my current place of confusion. That dark place of wonder and blindness.

I was free because of this:

There is something admirable about a man of action. A man with a good heart who knows what he wants and doesn't hesitate to go after it. That is who my fake ex husband was.

And in that moment, I decided, I want my real husband to be that person, too.

I want my husband to adore me in a way that he is incessantly drawn to me, in a way that he is intentional and direct because he knows exactly what he wants and he sees that in me. I want my husband to pursue me in a way that he will wake up every morning pursuing me with effort, with purpose, and with passion for the rest of our lives. I want to be in love with the way he loves me. I won't settle for anything less than that.

If new guy, as wonderful as he is, isn't going to be that person, then I don't want him. And if I need to walk away from this, then that's okay. Because mediocre is not a thing I'm into.

This new place I moved into after hearing the news is a much brighter, and much more beautiful place than where I was before.

I'm reminded of my value here. I'm reminded of my standards. I'm reminded that life is intricately designed by one who is much more intelligent than I, and who understands beauty and love in ways I never could--the same one who makes me whole.

There is no room for worry or fear in this new place.

Just peace.

And for that, fake ex husband, I thank you.