I've heard it said that you should never get married or buy a used car unless you find yourself saying, I can’t believe my luck. That’s exactly how I felt after I met my sweet fella last year. Within the first month I found myself fighting the urge to write thank-you notes to all his ex-girlfriends. Every last one of them would be addressed “Dear Sucker”.

So, I’m happy. But I do not believe in happily ever after.

And how could I? My last love ended our relationship with the words, “Conflict is not sexy”, as he set down his beer and walked out the door. My father berated me over the phone. “Hmpff”, he said. “Didn’t know you’d dispatch that one so soon. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” Me either, dad. Me either.

And then I went on the blind date from hell a few months later.

But when I met my sweet fella, I knew that he was special.

On the way home from meeting my parents for the first time he said, with all sincerity, “Man, I just love your folks. We can hang out with them anytime.”

And, a few weeks later, to the question, “Do you want to go salsa dancing tonight?” he responds, “I want to be wherever you are.”

But less than two months into our romance, it was time for me to pack up and head back to school. As he drove me to the airport before dawn I lamented that I’d forgotten the breakfast taco I’d prepared. He replied, “Don’t worry, honey. They’ll feed you on the plane. I upgraded you to first class.”

From first class I texted him as tears ran down my face, “You are the sweetest and most thoughtful man I have ever met and I bless the day I met you” and he replied, “My darling Dharma: that is only one tiny fraction of what I believe you deserve.”

I'm not trying to live my life as a novel, so I'm not looking for happily ever after. I'm very in touch with my dark side, you know what I mean? And I'm a restlesss soul. I crave novelty. I excel at walking away.

I don't even know if I believe in marriage.

But I believe in him.

 

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And from now on? 

I'm making my own luck.