I consider myself to be an extremely happy person. I absolutely love everything about my life, except for the whole, "i'm not fantabulously wealthy yet" thing.
But it wasn't always like that. In fact, I was a pretty miserable piece of dingle-berry for the better part of my teenage years.
"Ah, ha ha, but isn't everyone, you self-congratulating moron?" you ask?
Perhaps, but I had victimization and self-pity down to a science.
"What a weird thing to compete with people over - how miserable you were as a teenager."
Ok, who's writing this post, you or me? Seriously, you can be such a dick sometimes, hypothetical alter-ego.
"Bitch, I'm Super-Id, I ain't no ego. [Flies Away]"
(edit: I took Psych 101 eight years ago and apparently forgot that it's super-ego, not super-id. note to self - google search things you're not sure about)
Right, so now that I got that out of my system, let's move along. Last night my wife was watching this wedding video some douche put up on Facebook of him giving this douchy speech to his bride about how trite-fully he could insert as many cliches into the same tired sentence. "You complete me, You're the captain of my vessel, I truly started living the moment I met you, I never really knew happiness until the day we saw each other, blah, blah, blah." Then, everyone in the wedding reception died by being bludgeoned to death with their rubber chicken while a troupe of 50 guys recited Hamlet in rounds.
Ok, no, not really, but that would have been more interesting than the stupid speech he was giving.
But my wife looked over at me and said, "You would never have made that speech because you don't think the same way about me as he does about his bride".
And if you knew my wife, which I'd be at first surprised and then suspicious and probably jealous if you said you did, you'd know that she was only half serious when she said that. Part of it was, "I want to talk about how ridiculous this guy and his wife are". And part of it was "I actually believe deep down that you don't really feel this way."
I understand that sometimes women need to be reassured about the love of their partners. Hell, I even like to be reassured sometimes. (Although my wife would tell you I constantly need attention and keeping me reassured is almost a full time job - but don't listen to her). But there was a time when I wrote this. (Actually, I wrote that four and a half months before I met my wife). I went through life so angry and generally sad at seriously nothing at all that I convinced myself I was bi-polar. It was like self-induced solitary confinement. In the end, I was just a hormonal kid who was able to buy beer because he looked old enough and flirted with the overweight beer-seller woman and who forced himself to suffer for two whole years because some girl decided she didn't like me. I mean, really, really suffered.
And then, it seemed like a light turned on - and when my wife entered at probably the most chaotic time, she balanced me out, gave me something to hope for, to look forward to, and to rely on. She loved me for everything I was, and everything that she knew I could be, no matter how many times she stormed out of my apartment and left voice mails on my phone simply saying "Fuck you" because I said something stupid (something I'm still guilty of, though she's toned down her language).
She taught me what it was like to be happy. I mean, really, truly, explosively happy. That kind of happy where you get the church giggles ALL THE TIME and no matter what you try to do, you just can't help yourself from bathing in your suppressed quivering glee that still somehow manages to escape through pressed lips and palms pressed over your mouth to the jealousy of everyone else in the surrounding pews.
She saved me. But she knows this. I just hope she doesn't feel jealous of that other douche for making a public speech about it. You know, because it's so much more private to post it on the internet.