It’s the end of an era. Or something.
You’re married. Like. Married married.
Not courthouse married, or eloped-in-Vegas married. You didn’t knock her up, or settle. You did everything right.
You bided your time. You found your equal. Everything was so… appropriate.
Though you were off-limits to me before, you’re so very off-limits now.
Truthfully, from the moment we met, you were never “on-limits”. We were doomed from the start. Age, religion, work, lifestyle. We never would have made sense as a couple.
But a girl can dream.
Maybe it’s not about you, exactly, but instead what you represented for me. The guy who made me sit up and realize – ahhh, so this is what I could have.
You are easy to talk to, quick to laugh. Smart. Brilliant, really, but not so aware of it that you make others feel dumb.
You are comforting and kind and clean. Not just you, but the space around you always smelled fresh and woodsy – like that cool spot in the middle of a forest where the sun can’t quite permeate the canopy.
Judging by the shade of scarlet my face turned every time we talked, I’m fairly certain you knew the magnitude of my crush, and yet you never talked down to me. Never made me feel silly for wanting you. But, oh, how I wanted you.
It’s funny how your wedding feels far more final than that of a true ex-boyfriend. Somehow, you made a more lasting impression on me than a three-year college romance. You have forever changed what I look for in a man. I compare everyone to you.
And now, no matter who I end up with, I’ll always wonder if they fall short.