Modern Moonlight

I've just had a good talk with Dennis, for the first time since we broke up last Saturday. He's as confused and frustrated with the relationship as I am, which is a comfort to know. Neither of us want to overstep the other's boundaries, but we're each so concerned with the other that we can't set any boundaries of our own. Our feelings for each other haven't changed, they've just grown more complicated. We're still in love, but that's just setting us up for greater heartbreak come the time he has to leave.

I watched the PBS miniseries version of "Pride and Prejudice" today. Four hours of rip-your-heart out romantic goodness that people criticize destroys any hope of a realistic view of love in young people these days. If our relationship were a movie, this would be the part where we're miserable apart and miserable together, but despite this we decide each other are more important than menial things like our futures and our differences. We share a beautiful, dramatic kiss in the snow, and some heart-wrenching piece of music written by some composer we never even heard of fades in through the background noise to gently emphasize our love.

But that's not the way real life works- he needs to go to college. He's going to go be a minister, and I can't imagine anything better. It's terribly selfish of me to wish he didn't have to go, when it will be so beneficial to the rest of his life and the hundreds of people he'll have the opportunity to teach. I don't know anyone better suited to watch over a congregation. He's a truly wonderful, righteous, soulful person. In ten years, he'll be in charge of some little church in Boston or Denver or some other place far away from here, he'll be married to some wonderful woman who deserves him, and maybe have a couple of kids. Who knows if I'll still know him then- I certainly want to, but life so often takes courses we don't expect or desire. And I'll be off somewhere doing my own thing, God only knows what that will be. And it kills me to know that.

The other day, I was listening to a playlist I threw together of songs by Pink, the Veronicas, and Gwen Stefani. One of the songs by Ms. Stefani is called "Wonderful Life"- it was a pretty big hit a few years back. I always knew that it had a catchy chorus, which was the only reason I ever liked it before now. But the other day I actually listened to the words, and they astounded me with how much I related to them:

"I haven't thought of you
For years you know
Your memory seems to come and go
Our time meant so much to me
Now you can't be found

You were the first to want me
The first to love me
The first to need me
Who was the last to know you
The last to love you
The last to hold you"

In ten years, when Dennis has his church and congregation and wife and kids, maybe I'll be married too. Maybe I'll have a job as an artist like I've always dreamed- maybe I'll be partners with Rachael at our studio, Something Photographic. I'll be a leader in the Beehives (the youngest division of Young Women) in my ward, leading my own tiny congregation of lost little girls. I'll have a husband that I can only hope to God I'll be happy with, and maybe I'll have some wee ones of my own. One of those days after church in the quiet afternoon of a Sunday, I'll stumble across some old pictures I had forgotten about. I'll wonder where he is, how he's doing, I'll wish I knew how to find him and get in contact with him.

That's the way life works. Alex told me that if I ever get the chance to marry him, I should. And though it's terribly personal of me to say, it has crossed my mind. I'm sure it crosses the mind of every person who thinks they're in love at one point or another, even though they are far too embarassed to confess it, and more than that, they want it a little bit, too, which makes it all the worse. But the chances of that are heartbreakingly small. I think my projection above, though devastating to me, is far more likely.

I'm getting tired, so I'm going to stop my nonsensical rambling. I'm just confused and upset, and my blog is a great way to vent that. Now maybe I can get some rest.