the perfect eveningpublished: 2013-05-30
During my Pilates work-out today, one of the women stood up to announce an event she’s organized. She said “we all need to give our relationship a little boost now and then and so I’ve organized the perfect evening for you. It’s a spiritual evening of reconnection. With wine, food and music. A private table on the beach. You’ll be asked to tell each other how you met, fell in love, what you like about each other, respect and all sorts of other beautiful aspects of being together. The aspects we sometimes forget.”
I watched the other women, they all looked at her with positive intent, their eyebrows raised in anticipation, the eyes sparkling. They were already enjoying the romantic evening that might lay ahead of them.
Wasn’t there at least one other woman in the room divorced or single? It seemed not.
I remember how my sister once told me she’d love to be alone again. I too drifted indulged on that fantasy. Nothing’s changed, essentially. I still feel sad when I see happy couples.
Meanwhile, I’ve given up on trying to persuade my son to sleep in his own bed. He now sleeps in mine. I argue to myself it’s fine, soon he’ll be too old and will never want to sleep in my bed ever again. And if he’s scared at night, then why deny him his peace?
I looked at him last night and wondered whether I had placed my own interests above his. I had defended my choices by claiming I’d be a much happier person, and therefore mother. I argued that I shouldn’t blame myself for falling in love with another man, as long as I was giving my son the example of true love. Of following your heart.
My mother once said: love is a choice, a conscious decision. I’ve always felt she was wrong. But maybe she’s right. Maybe you can train yourself to love by paying someone to put you on a beach and to remind you how.
“I often see that it’s been years since a man and woman actually looked at each other when the other speaks.”