my parallel life
In my parallel life as I've oft times told my girlfriends, I am married, I have 4 children, and I am not nearly as wracked with indecision, insecurity, and heartbreak as the single me is.
In that life, my soul mate (noted in the previous blog) courted me throughout college and then proposed upon my 22nd birthday. Let's face it, even in my parallel life I wasn't ever going to finish college, I hate school that much. I digress.
We had an intimate, lovely wedding at a friend's home in Atherton, CA (where I always dreamed I'd be married), and settled somewhere in Northern California. Not Yosemite where he lives with his real life. Maybe Davis. I like Davis. I digress again.
I'm sure we immediately became pregnant because in my parallel life I'm positive that I would not suffer from endometriosis or Grave's Disease or be put into a medically induced menopause. Additionally, I would never have had to have my bladder and uterus opened up in a life-saving surgery. In the other life, I had no trouble conceiving ...4 times...and each time we gave birth to tan, smart, perfectly mannered children.
Then we would buy a two-story home. Doesn't matter what it looks like, just as long as it's two-stories and has a long window seat. Long enough for me to stretch my legs out and read a book in. Not just the beach or the park or a couch or my bed where I currently read, but a dedicated space. As a matter of fact, if anyone is listening (God, Next Boyfriend, Future Roommate), all I've ever wanted is somewhere cozy to read.
So we have the marriage (did I mention our wedding song?), the children (I don't really want 4), and the house with the window seat (I really want that).
And there my parallel life ends. I don't really go any further than that. I know that in reality if I had married that young, my soul mate would absolutely despise the person I have become. He and I might even have affairs. I doubt I would really enjoy 4 growing children-2 yes, 4? I'd be an irritable mess. The house I'm sure would be falling apart.
That's the reality of my parallel life.
My real life is far less romantic or even melodramatic, but it is a life. I have girlfriends who share all my highs & lows with me, I have had lovers and boyfriends who have taught me what I will and what I won't put up with, and I have had the most marvelous of all bottles of wines, meals, and perfect days.
It's not that I don't recognize how lucky I am or how lovely my life really is, but sometimes it takes a parallel life fantasy to remind me.
In that life, my soul mate (noted in the previous blog) courted me throughout college and then proposed upon my 22nd birthday. Let's face it, even in my parallel life I wasn't ever going to finish college, I hate school that much. I digress.
We had an intimate, lovely wedding at a friend's home in Atherton, CA (where I always dreamed I'd be married), and settled somewhere in Northern California. Not Yosemite where he lives with his real life. Maybe Davis. I like Davis. I digress again.
I'm sure we immediately became pregnant because in my parallel life I'm positive that I would not suffer from endometriosis or Grave's Disease or be put into a medically induced menopause. Additionally, I would never have had to have my bladder and uterus opened up in a life-saving surgery. In the other life, I had no trouble conceiving ...4 times...and each time we gave birth to tan, smart, perfectly mannered children.
Then we would buy a two-story home. Doesn't matter what it looks like, just as long as it's two-stories and has a long window seat. Long enough for me to stretch my legs out and read a book in. Not just the beach or the park or a couch or my bed where I currently read, but a dedicated space. As a matter of fact, if anyone is listening (God, Next Boyfriend, Future Roommate), all I've ever wanted is somewhere cozy to read.
So we have the marriage (did I mention our wedding song?), the children (I don't really want 4), and the house with the window seat (I really want that).
And there my parallel life ends. I don't really go any further than that. I know that in reality if I had married that young, my soul mate would absolutely despise the person I have become. He and I might even have affairs. I doubt I would really enjoy 4 growing children-2 yes, 4? I'd be an irritable mess. The house I'm sure would be falling apart.
That's the reality of my parallel life.
My real life is far less romantic or even melodramatic, but it is a life. I have girlfriends who share all my highs & lows with me, I have had lovers and boyfriends who have taught me what I will and what I won't put up with, and I have had the most marvelous of all bottles of wines, meals, and perfect days.
It's not that I don't recognize how lucky I am or how lovely my life really is, but sometimes it takes a parallel life fantasy to remind me.
