windy city romance.

So I have this friend (I’ll call her J). Early 30s, sarcastic and sassy. We get along great. During the summer, we partake in sangria Tuesdays almost every week. We met through a mutual friend when I moved back to Chicago and we’ve both somehow been disowned by said mutual friend, so where I lost a friend, I gained one.

Anyway, J and I have shared all of our dating experiences and I know she’s been through a poor pattern of men who sucked—-a lot. For a long time, we thought a lot alike: men will hurt you and disappoint you. It’s only a matter of when.

It’s a terrible way to think, I know. But it’s all we knew. 

Then I met Alex, who I still can’t stop raving about (9 months into our relationship). She jokes that we’re disgustingly adorable, but has also asked me if he’s essentially cured me of my negative thinking when it came to relationships.

While Alex has certainly helped things, it’s not that easy. I still have my insecure moments, where I wonder what it is about myself that may (and eventually will) drive him away. But he’s patient and understanding and basically talks me down from the ledge of negative thoughts.

Now about me: I’ve dated all kinds of dudes. The kind that despite being older, will suddenly disappear as opposed to saying, “I’m sorry but I don’t think this is working anymore.” 

The kind that you’ll date somewhat casually for over a month and get invited to meet some of his friends at a bar, causing you to think he’s actually making an effort, only to have him outright flirt with another girl and try to get her number as you stand next to him.

I guess you sometimes do have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find a guy that even remotely resembles a prince. But I digress.

While I’m no longer waiting for the other shoe to drop (Alex is who he is—he’s genuine and wonderful and will not turn into a terrible person overnight), sometimes I get anxious. I get nervous, worried. Because I’m not used to being happy when it comes to relationships.

My longest relationship (if you could even call it that) took up a good chunk of my early 20s and made me completely miserable the majority of the time. I was in love with my best friend and he kept me around when he needed me and ditched me when he didn’t. Back and forth, on and off. For several years. And I remember thinking that it wasn’t worth being in love, if I was so freaking unhappy because of it. 

I started to associate love with misery, and that’s kind of awful.

Alex does not make me miserable. It’s easy with him. Uncomplicated. He makes me laugh constantly. He’s the first person I want to see when I wake up. I have been completely open with him for the get-go; I’ve told him most things I have shared with some of my good friends. He smiles and nods and says there’s nothing about me he doesn’t love.

I tried to communicate all of this to J the other night, when she was telling me about the new guy in her life. I see a lot of myself in here right now: that hesitant giddiness over meeting someone new, someone with serious potential. She’s excited and terrified, all at once. I can’t say I blame her. I told her it’s okay, that it’ll get easier. That she’s more than allowed to be happy, she’s damn well entitled to it.

Happiness is a simple emotion. It’s only made complicated by our own fears and insecurities, however irrational they may be. Once we starting work to get past all of that, being happy actually feels natural.

Finding something or someone that makes you happy is one thing. Staying happy is another. But just allowing yourself to embrace happiness is probably the biggest step you’ll ever take.