This story doesn’t start the way you think, so get your mind out of the gutter. I met the Mailman at an outdoor dance party last Labour Day long weekend, and just prior to my foray into the world of online dating. True to form it all started like the most epic of Love stories: leaning against a pillar, the crowd parted, I looked up as he walked towards me, our eyes locked, all sounds & revelry droning down to a whisper. The attraction was instantaneous, magnetic. Although I hate to reduce him to a cliché, this guy was definitely the stuff Mailman fantasies are made of.
From that moment onwards we were inseparable for about 3-months. That night at the party I had immediately recognized him from another life, it felt like forever but was in fact only 2-years prior that we hovered around the same circle, but never having cause to interact as at the time we were both dating other people. Nevertheless I couldn’t help but notice him as my then year-long relationship was beginning to break down, and he looked like an always smiling, walking talking Ken-doll. I imagined life with him would be fun, filled with life, laughter and the like, perhaps because he was always smiling. Granted we’d only ever see each other in social settings but I wasn’t doing a whole lot of that myself at the time – smiling. So without knowing anything about him, I’d find myself wondering what it would be like to be his girlfriend, to be the girl that that guy idolized. Fast forward and now the universe had provided me with the opportunity to find out.
I’d like to be able to say that the timing was right, but it wasn’t. Completely immersed in what was supposed to prove a career defining venture I had little time to devote to this budding romance. At first he was supportive, he said he understood. I had invested so much time, and energy into this project, and I was on the precipice of greatness. We’d manage to find time to be together, but even when we were I wasn’t always present. Or when I was, I’d crave the connection that comes from being with someone that bears witness to your day, but with a deeper understanding.
My parents are both very different people, with vastly different interests. In spite of their different disciplines – she working in the field of medicine and he in sales & technology – they could always find a way to come together, to connect in matters of career. Some of my favourite moments were walking into the kitchen and into a conversation between them about work, he’d be doling out advice as to how to approach a problematic situation with management, or she’d be offering insight into a contract he was considering, perhaps even something that would take him away from his family for a while. So much support, the greater good for the individual was synonymous with what was best for the family. There was never a moment, a word, or feeling uttered that clipped either person’s potential. I was bearing witness to a form intimacy, a love that resonates with me to this day, and one that I crave in my own personal relationships. Despite his best efforts to understand my work, what I was going through, what I had invested, slowly it became clear that he didn’t, he couldn’t. My life was so different then his.
His life was static, his days, weeks, quite predictable. Mine was the complete opposite. My spirit would die in such a reality, and as expected my reality started to wear away at our relationship. He questioned my priorities, and rightfully so. Working long hours, and in close quarters with a team you become like a family, and my then work situation was no different. As launch neared, long hours at the office turned into even longer hours at the bar with the team. We were swimming in this rip tide fish bowl together, that no one in the outside world could even begin to understand. The pressure was palpable. I’d miss milestones and family gatherings to be with my team and as he began to question what I wanted, so too did I start to wonder.
Then one day we met his family for lunch and upon parting his parents asked what we were up too for the rest of the afternoon to which I replied in my most excitable voice, “Whole Foods! Then home to prepare dinner.” Side bar: Anyone that knows me, knows I get a rush walking into Whole Foods, it’s my happy place. Insatiable appetite aside, I am thoroughly turned on by the way the fruits and vegetables are merchandised. I like to linger in the Produce section imagining what each prospect tastes like, the texture, what I would pair it with. It’s my porn… But back to the restaurant. Blue collar background, and old world migrants they immediately took me to task for shopping there, “why don’t you just go to T & T, it’s no different and much cheaper?”. It was less of a question then a commentary, insinuating that it was a poor use of money. Listen I get that the organic sits next to the inorganic fruit on the bus, but it’s more then just merchandising. I’m inspired when walking in there to take chances in the kitchen, try new recipes, but first and foremost to be healthy. And what I really wanted to say was, “well when your son starts paying for the groceries then perhaps you can have an opinion on such matters.” However I knew that they weren’t coming from a malicious place so I just nodded instead. Upon our departure I addressed the conversation with Mailman to ascertain his position on the matter and it became quite clear that he was indoctrinated into the same belief, and which perhaps was reinforced by his choice of career and invariably income. Like his parents he couldn’t justify the cost. Safe to say that day I enjoyed my visit to Whole Foods a little less.
He was a turnkey husband, looking to settle down & start a family, and he saw me by his side, or so he said. His motives were clear. It took a little soul searching but I came to the conclusion that life with him looked a lot like life on autopilot, predictable, and devoid of trips to Whole Foods. There was no risk, he was safe and not questioning the world around him, his contribution, all made for a nice vacation but not a permanent home. There are moments that I pause and think was I right to let that one go? He was so loving, so accepting of me flaws & all, not to mention had incredible family values and a great family to boot, loyal till the end, my ride-or-die. He checked most boxes, but I had the forsight to see that I’d always yearn for a deeper connection. A tremendously good person, I still think about him from time to time, but mainly when I retrieve my mail and see the note NO FLYERS PLEASE sprawled with a magic marker across the inside my mailbox.
The gift that keeps on giving, thanks Mailman.
With love,
xo Kristy
lovebitesandleftovers 