Long ago and far away (aka married life before kids; heretofore known as MLBK), my husband and I went to see movies. A lot. Blockbusters. Oscar nominees. Old movies shown for one night only at the gitchy little theater on the end of town where all the cool kids live.
We’d arrive early to ensure we weren’t forced to sit in the front row. Then one of us would hold our seats while the other went for popcorn or for one last trip to the bathroom. Sitting alone in the movie theater, pre-previews, lights still up, I’d watch other movie-goers arrive – singles, couples, families, herds of teenagers. When my husband returned to our seats, I’d say, “I choose you.”
Him: (usually a perplexed expression – he’s a man of few words).
Me: Of all the fellas I’ve seen come in here tonight, I’d choose you.
Him: That’s sweet.
Me: No, really. I’m never consciously looking, but I am aware of my other options and I’d choose you. Every time.
It’s been cross-stitched and quilted on things for generations, by women much wiser than me: “Happiness is wanting what you have, not having what you want.”
If you ask my husband, he’ll be the first to tell you that I have no problem telling him what I want – especially when it comes to what I want from him. My challenge is to remember how important it is that he knows I’d choose him. Again. Every flaw. Every hiccup. Every bump we come to in the road we travel together. I want what I have, because what I have – who I have – makes me happy.