Romance is for the Rich

I'm in love with 2008. 2007 was full of disappointment, demands I couldn't keep up with (both self-imposed and otherwise), an ego that was cracking and bringing everything around it crashing down, too - it was a bad year. The final lowlight was the unceremonious end to an unceremonious relationship that I had spent nearly two years trying to tell myself was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Several weeks later, sparkly-eyed and energetic, I can look back on that dark, dark place and figure out exactly what I need to do to keep from going back there again. Don't get me wrong: I'm going to miss dancing to Steely Dan on his coffee table; making brown-sugar oatmeal in his kitchen wearing my fluffy pink robe and his size-14 blue sneakers because he doesn't own a pair of slippers; plotting numerous trips to Costco because he just can't get enough super-sized boxes of legal pads - I'll miss all of that. But the co-dependency and depressive cycles - those can go to hell where they belong. We (well, mostly he) spent a lot of money chasing thrills that proved empty and uninspiring in the end. Currency was to our emotional problems what Band-Aids are to exit wounds from a double-barrel shotgun. But the dollar bills kept on raining down and turning to pulp all around us, and still - it wasn't enough. What he wanted was eternal days of my undying devotion; what I needed was time to find myself, just the way (he thought) he had found himself.

But that is now the past. In 2008, I have a new love - me. This isn't your average love story: it is a whirlwind affair, to be sure, but not because I am taking me halfway across the world for a Parisian weekend in Bordeaux. Actually, for the first time in a long time, there are no maps involved. We are excited to be embarking on a new, uncharted journey alone (or together, however you choose to look at it). We have two new jobs we love in two new spheres that challenge us, and instead of over-analyzing every little step we take before we take it, we say "yes" to everything first then figure out the details later. We write more in our handmade Turkish leather book, wearing silver rings and large hoop earrings to match our wanna-be hippie spirit. We cook more couscous than rice; we eat more apples than chicken (sacre bleu!). And we're learning how to grow together, relying on our positive energy and smiling so much more every day to create a positive imbalance to the frowns and tears of yesteryear. We're very busy, but we wear our swollen, sleep-deprived eyes with pride.

I don't recall a time in my life when I have been so productive, and through my own efforts, guided by my own momentum. A more self-confident kulu never existed, that much I know. And I actually think it's making me a better person, the kind of person other people genuinely want to be around because they think I'm cool, even though I've never been and will never be the type to bounce off the walls telling giddy stories with equal parts of humor and intrigue.

I can see this reflected in the manner and eyes of my new friends, and one in particular. It's nothing serious - I wouldn't want to interrupt my private love affair with moi. But he's enjoying my company and I find myself, against all the odds, enjoying his. We watch political news and debate the pros and cons of a Clinton administration over an Obama one (the bitch is making it very hard for me to continue lending support to her cause). We talk about his nascent nonprofit organization, and he actually seeks my advice because he thinks I'm "so smart" despite my practical inexperience. We're both extremely busy - he more so than I, the poor thing - but somehow, we find the time to see each other nearly every day - whether we simply fall asleep within moments of hugging hello; or agree to meet at a cafe midway between our homes to work on proposals (me) or character education programs (him). And every day, we laugh until our ribs are sore.

Not for us the poetic, dramatic romance of Bronte and Alcott. Only rich people have the sort of time to devote whole days and hours to each other and each other alone. Me and dude, we've got bills to pay. Rather, it's a quiet sort of, casual sort of, friendly sort of "romance", fashioned around the reality of our lives, rather than the idealism of our dreams. We're broke and/or saving, so we don't go out to candlelight dinners. The one time our schedules permitted a trip to the movies, we got busted trying to sneak in on Child tickets (one full minute of embarrassment, three minutes and counting of glorious, gut-busting laughter). Now we watch one movie over a three-night span at home (where we can learn all the words to the "Saying Grace" scene in Talledega Nights in peace).

Best of all, we are ourselves. Saying, "I'm kinda comfortable on my couch right now; I'll see you tomorrow," doesn't mean "I find you boring and have decided to have a secret affair with someone else," and we're both very secure in that knowledge. There's no need to create a more plausible story or explain myself to death when the simple truth is: I really just don't feel like having a marathon phone conversation right now.

I'm...comfortable. That's the perfect word to describe this feeling. And comfort makes me smile. I'm re-discovering that other kind of wealth that accompanies happiness (pardon the cheesy expression - I'm a full-fledged, starry-eyed, bleeding-heart optimist in January 2008), which is an enormous blessing given my 2007 state of mind. As I continue on my quest for inner peace, a goal that finally seems attainable, I'll keep counting my pennies, secure in the knowledge that my pot of gold, spiritually and financially, is but a few steps away and I'll get to it when I get to it, positivity in tow.