I met with a friend, T., from karate the other day for coffee. He popped into the cafe while I was working, and said he really needed to talk, so naturally I worried all day until I saw him. As it turns out, he and his wife, J., are splitting up, after nearly 21 years together.
Oh, I know. This happens all the time. Thing is, though, I really looked up to T. and J. as a couple. I often told T. I wanted a relationship just like his: they seemed so in love, yet so free to have their own lives outside of each other. They were still individuals, and back when I was in my very copdependant relationship with M., that seemed ideal. In fact, watching their relationship was a lot of what gave me the courage to leave.
Maybe I idealized it so much that I failed to notice how they never spent time together. According to T., the relationship had degenerated to passing nods in the hallway, and little else.
This isn't to say that my copdependancy with M. was the answer, either. Of course it wasn't - I was desperately unhappy. What this all means, in a selfish sort of way I would never let on to either T. or ., is that I really still don't have any idea what the right balance is. And that's scary.
When I got home from hanging out with T., Coffeeboy was already in bed. I crawled in next to him, and for the first time in a long time, spent all night curled up against him.