The New Other in My Life

There is a time to say goodbye to old things. I said goodbye to my old boyfriends a long time ago. I don’t keep in contact with any of them, except for one I dated in high school, who stayed good friends with my family.

Otherwise, the sordid love affairs of my past are going to stay that way, in the past. They were that way long before I settled into married life. I only reference them briefly because I’m deepening my exploration of the whole Lost Dad thing and trying to break apart little pieces for observation.

And upon observation let’s just say this: I compare every man to my dad. My father had to be my measuring stick, because he was the first other man I got to know and the base line I used to pick all my other ones.

In the book I'm reading, it talks about this issue with other women who survive their dads. It talks about how they finally stop comparing their mates to their fathers after they pass away. This thought both enlivened me and crushed me deeply.

It’s just that in his absence, things become more clear. Goddamn it – I hate that it should be this way, and yet I'm still grateful for the gift he has given me in his parting. In a way – he is giving me a relationship with my husband I may not have been able to grow into for a long time from now – he is giving me a fresh start to my marriage. It’s all bittersweet, trust me.

I have realized that in the past I was either looking for a man like my father, who were not necessarily good choices, or a man nothing like him (equally not so good). It wasn’t until I met Mike that I bothered to question what kind of man was good for me. It turns out he has some of the qualities my dad had and some that he didn’t. I’m actually sort of jealous of Mike. Or jealous of myself with Mike. For having the kind of husband my father wasn’t. Is that convoluted or what? Don’t get me wrong. I love love love my mom and dad. Their DNA and choices helped make me who I am today and I’m not complaining.

What I’m getting at is…I know Mike will be the kind of husband who will get out of bed to fill up my humidifier, feed and walk the dog in the bitter cold. I know Mike won’t be the kind of dad who will still snuggle with his kids when they are past their teens, like my father did. We’ve talked about this, so this is not slander. I know I will never have to wonder if he is coming home some nights or having problems with alcohol. I know he will not be the kind of dad who will let his first grader stay up late on a school night dancing with a bunch of Yugoslavs, or give carte blanche permission for just about anything.

I need to talk about Mike. Not just because he keeps nagging me for more cameos in my blog – since he seems to be my main audience so far, it seems reasonable for him to make such requests. No, it is not that. It is because he is the new “other” in my life. In our marriage ceremony we committed to lifelong unity. That's no small thing. But, that doesn't mean I know exactly how to make him family yet.

I keep looking at him as I type, smiling. He keeps looking back saying, “What’s up?”
I snap at him for interrupting me.
Ah, wedded bliss.
I love him.