Cliches and reflections on a year

Life's a dance, you learn as you go.
Sometimes you lead, sometimes you follow.
Don't worry 'bout what you don't know,
life's a dance, you learn as you go.
©1992

As a disclaimer, I may be suffering from displaying the effects of watching quite a few (about 6 months worth) vlogbrothers videos in one sitting; the way I express my emotions is freer and I am phrasing everything like John and Hank Green would. Bear with me. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, go about reading this blog and then look up their channel on YouTube. Crazy good stuff. Oddly enough, this blog might be easier to read than my others, but let’s get to what I want to talk at you about.

So they say that in a year, a lot can change. Most times when I hear/read someone emote this, I normally judge them for being so cliché. But sometimes there's a reason for phrases being cliché: they can be applied to a large number of people’s situations over a sustained period of time. As I have more experiences and take more revolutions around the sun, I’ve come to identify with this idea.

“Well Amy where were you a year ago,” you may ask.

“Interesting question,” I would respond to that hypothetical question that I’m sure at least one of you thought for a millisecond.

Exactly 365 days ago (from writing this) I was returning home from what I decided then was the best day ever, and my opinion on that has not changed. I was in a great relationship with a great guy who happens to be frustratingly talented at simultaneously keeping secrets and planning surprises. I knew we were going to be together that evening because it was our 6 month anniversary and also happened to be a Friday – perfect date night. I knew that he knew that I was expecting something special, and that was only because I knew that he was that kind of guy.

The only hints I could pry out of him in the approximately week and a half leading up to the date were that it was hinged on (a) the weather and (b) my answer to the question “cookie dough or cake?” which he asked very abruptly in between going to classes so I didn’t have time to interrogate him about the reason for asking but rather had to decide in what is for me a very short amount of time between two desserts that I like equally (I should’ve said both—probably wouldn’t have been an acceptable answer though).

So Friday rolls around, and all day at school I’m dying to ask him questions, but he’s threatened me with no date if I keep asking (because I’m a child and need threats to be motivated to behave in an adult manner). So I wait with about as much willpower to not ask questions as kids have willpower to sleep on Christmas Eve. After waiting patiently for what seemed to be forever and a day, we ended up cuddling and watching the sunset while eating raw cookie dough that he had made from scratch—which happened to be delicious and also my tied as my favorite flavor with chocolate.

“Hold on! That’s not romantic at all!”

Sure you could argue that he didn’t spend a lot of money on me, and we didn’t go anywhere special but I would like to point out that “special” is a relative adjective. I found what he had planned very special and that evening taught me a lot about relationships that I find I am better able to absorb being a year removed from the situation. Bring on the clichés!

First off, I learned that love is about more than superficial things. The amount of joy I felt about watching the sun go down behind what was a mostly cloudy sky while eating raw cookie dough is so indescribable. To me, it shows that being next to someone you love is always more important than what you’re doing—all that matters is that you’re with that person that makes existing more awesome.

Secondly, the Hollywood-ized idea of romance being a whirlwind of emotions and time and that somehow that special someone you’re going to be with forever just pops up out of the blue is a skewed view of reality. And the fact that I believed this idea growing up angers me. I’m learning with time that romance is something that develops. It’s not magical (as much as the chemicals in our brain would like us to think). It takes work. A great romance doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve found Prince Charming (or even Eric or Philip), either. You can love someone without them being the one. Albeit, all of my experiences are only from one relationship, but I’d say that I found a pretty great guy on the first go-round. Accepting the possibility that love doesn’t always end in marriage is something that I’ve had to wrap my head around, and I’m still working on that.

Lastly, I’ve learned that everything happens for a reason. Every person you have a relationship with, whether it’s romantic or not (like your best friend or that kind elderly woman that you play Uno with at the nursing home) you have met for a reason—your relationship formed for a reason. I have liked to brush this cliché off in the past as well, but it is slowly coming into focus over time.

Crazy example/rant/break time: Think of all the people that knew George Bailey (from It’s a Wonderful Life). Those people had an impact on who George grew up to be, but their encounters with him, no matter how short, also had an impact on them. Sure, he saved some people’s lives directly, but think about all of the people he helped indirectly. Like the kids who had a house because George loaned money to their parents with no more collateral than a handshake and a promise. Those kids had a stable home to grow up in because of George Bailey’s kindness. Pretty neat to think of, huh? Just me? Okay.

Back to the point at hand:
Because of Q, I have what I think is a pretty good model of how a guy should treat a lady. Opening the door, offering up the only jacket when I’m cold (chivalry’s not dead!), letting me cry miserably about anything and everything-but especially that character from my favorite TV show that he doesn’t watch but I persist shouldn’t have made that particular decision- and also being fantastic at keeping secrets. I realize that at the time I didn’t exactly mirror his A-grade relationship partner characteristics, and that’s probably why we are not together now. But that doesn’t make our relationship meaningless. The 16 months, 2 weeks, 6 days, and roughly 9 hours (for the record he counted not me) that we were together covers what is at this point in my life a considerable chunk of time.

So I guess the point of this long-winded blog is be thankful for what you have, but also be thankful for what you had. And to end where we started: