Evolution or stagnation?

In just under three weeks, the two year anniversary of Grant’s first email will roll around. It seems strange to me that in a month, Grant and I will have been together for 2 years. That I have been in a steady, healthy, loving relationship for this long is nothing short of a miracle, especially in comparison with my past.
And as this anniversary approaches, my past is precisely what’s on my mind. There are so many things in my past I regret, so many things I try to forget. I can put a spin a most of the things that I’ve done—or that have happened to me—but in my heart, they’re still there. I can’t spin my past to myself.
If I were going to recount my tragic romantic history, I’m not sure where I’d begin. With the first two “boyfriends” I had—simultaneously—in first grade? Or with my first kiss—a plant and run? Or my first love—the boy from Albania whom I thought I literally couldn’t live without? Or my “special” friend—a boy who undoubtedly had no idea the emotional wreck he was dealing with? Or my first one night stand—a man who’s name and face have been scrubbed from my memory with alcohol and more one night stands? Where, on the bumpy road of my love life, do I start my story?
And if I were to assign fault, or attempt to find a cause, where would I begin? Can any one of these events be the determining factor—the pothole that caused me to spill my coffee and miss my Normalsville exit and drive straight through Whore City and into Regretstown? Or was my romantic destiny written long before I even realized, with childhood stories of my mother’s high school conquests? It’s impossible to know… and I’m not certain of what good it might do to know anyway. Would it really help to know that if I hadn’t run away after that first kiss everything would have worked out fabulously?
And who’s to say that I’d have ended up here, had I taken the Normalsville exit? I might have ended up with someone completely different or with no one at all. Being single into your thirties is becoming more and more common… would I have really wanted that life? Would loosing the “Whore” title I assigned myself so long ago really be worth the trade of being alone? Of being lonely? You see, I was never lonely. I rarely had steady boyfriends, but I was always “with” someone. I didn’t worry about getting married or having a date for Valentine’s Day or any of the other things the women of Normalsville have to struggle with. In Whore City, I had dates pretty much whenever I wanted them. I have met very few men who are not interested in casual sex. And I certainly avoided many of the “dues” other women have had to pay… I’ve only had my heart really broken once. Most of the citizens of Normalsville seem to have two or three long-term relationship under their belts… or worse, none at all.
I suppose none of it really matters. I am exceedingly happy to be Grant’s wife, and to be honest, I cannot imagine how being with another man could be better. Different I can imagine… but better? Nope.
But I digress. A lot. What I have actually been thinking about a lot lately is how much I have—or in many cases, haven’t—changed in the last two years. Am I really any different from the person who read Grant’s first email? Have I grown? Matured? Evolved? If I have changed, am I better than before, or simply different?
I suppose the proper place to start such an inquiry is by asking: Where was I two years ago? I don’t have a really good way of judging because I wasn’t journaling at the time. But here’s what I remember:
–          In late July 2005, Faye and I moved in together in our Bracewood apartment.
–          In mid-August, we both started school; although she attended far more often than I did.
–          In early September, I began to get worried about Leila and her new “friends.”
–          In mid-September, Leila and I had a huge confrontation, resulting in months of not-speaking (in part due to her time in jail).
–          September 26th, I got my first email from Grant.
–          October 5th, after a week of emails and phone calls, Grant and I had our first date. We saw a movie and had dinner at the A&W.
 
But who was I? How am I different now? I hate that I don’t know, because I feel as if I am stagnate. I want to know that I’ve grown and changed and learned, but I feel as if I’ve been sitting in the same moldy goop that is my life for years and years.
I know the difference between 18 and 21 was huge for me. But what about the difference between 21 and the fast-approaching 24. I still eat out all the damn time. I still hate the gym. I still cry during commercials and laugh when someone’s being yelled at. I still smoke… that reminds me… It’s defiantly time to smoke.
I’ll continue on this thought at some point… or I won’t, because I still have a great deal of trouble finishing the things I start. I’m off to smoke and then running to an Accounting Club meeting. Iam just too cool for words, lemme tell you.
 
Toodles!