It’s amazing how no matter how many failed relationships you have been through, and this seems quite ridiculous in retrospect, you are able to somehow imagine that the one you’re in now will last forever. What is it that gives us so much hope? How did this hope somehow eat through our initial cynicism? Did we somehow magically change our personality, our lifestyle, our idiosyncrasies so that nothing can go wrong this time? Are we really doing everything differently? What has changed?! Did we learn anything from the past? Why are we ignoring the statistics on this? If there’ve been 7 failures out of 7, what makes us think that the next one is going to be a success? Isn’t the probability of that happening extremely low? Based on the stats, that is. You choose to ignore all of that though and tumble into another one that’s probably not going to last, but you don’t want to see that. No, you don’t. Suddenly you believe that this new person you’re with is different compared to the last, that your chemistry is stronger, that maybe you’re happier, that perhaps this one will last longer, and not just longer than the last one. Oh no, that’s not what you’re aiming for, are you? What you want is something that lasts an eternity, and no matter how unrealistic this expectation is, you don’t see the sheer foolishness, or naivete of that thought. All you see is this new world through your rose-colored glasses.
When things hit a bump, you assume it is just that: a bump on the road to happiness forever. It’s a long road, pal, and you don’t know if you’ll ever get there. But you continue to hope that things will get better, that you will feel like the most special person in the world again. You keep giving it time, but you don’t know how long it will take. Are you still happy? Why’re you still there? Is that really how hard you’re going to try? Shouldn’t it be just a little easier? When you’re with that person shouldn’t you feel like there is nothing else you could possibly want in this world? It’s a feeling of completion, of contentment, of total and utter satisfaction that’s missing. Does that stop you? Of course not! You continue to foolishly hope for what can only be a miracle. Take off those damn spectacles.
It’s time to wake up, baby. Wake up and smell the conspicuous absence of flowers that he doesn’t bring you anymore, the missing scent of the perfume you loved that she doesn’t wear for you anymore. Good morning, gorgeous. I don’t know if you know as well as I do that tomorrow, when this one’s met its demise, you’ll do it all over again, hoping that maybe this time it’ll be different.