Ever After Always

At some point, every love is a tragedy. It just doesn’t have to stay that way. We choose our endings. That’s Aristotle’s point. Tragedy is built—it has a structure. And if that’s not the ending you want, then you get out of that trajectory. You change the narrative.” I

... anxiety is like whack-a-mole. Unpredictable, always waiting beneath the surface. Sometimes it’s a trigger that you can pinpoint and deal with, but even then, unexpectedly anxiety rears its head and you’re spinning, wishing you could locate that thing, for there to be one thing, that makes you this way so you can isolate it and smack the shit out of it, or…more accurately, fix it. Somehow.

We can’t possibly hope to always live ‘happily.’ But ‘ever after’? That we can hope for and choose. Because ‘ever after’ isn’t an idea. It’s a person—an imperfect person who’s perfect for you.” Her eyes search mine as she gives me one soft, tender kiss. “You’re that person, for me. You’re my ever after.

I already accepted your apology.” “But I’m still suffering the consequences.” God, men really don’t get it sometimes. They want apologies to wipe away the pain. But pain takes time to heal. You can forgive and hurt as you recover from the wound.

No marriage is fair. It’s complementary. The idea of ‘fair’ is absurd at best, ableist at worst.” We both swivel our heads and look at her. “Ableist?” Freya asks. “Ableist,” Dr. Dietrich says. “Because saying a relationship has to be ‘fair’ implies only a certain balance and distribution of skills and aptitudes is valid. It upholds an arbitrary, damaging idea of ‘normal’ or ‘standard’ as requisite for fulfilling partnership. When in reality, all you need is two people who love what the other brings and share the work of love and life together.

Romance is about the centrality of loving relationships, and it reminds us that human connection is vital to existence, rather than glorifying egoism or violence or greed. So excuse my genre for not being perfect, but let’s back the fuck up from hypocritically critiquing books that have done a lot more for humanity than slashers and circle-jerk, five-hundred-page, nihilistic tomes.

I'm saying happily ever after doesn't exist. Not because life long love is impossible, but because, as we've learned, no couple can live happily, ever after. People whose love lasts, whose love grows and endures choose each other in the unhappily ever after, the dark moments, not just the dazzling ones. We can't possible hope to always live happily. But ever after? That we can hope for and choose.

I love you beyond words and time and space. I wish I could articulate how grateful I feel each morning, to wake up and see you next to me. Even when life's shit and the world feels heavy, I look at you...'' He sighs. ''Knowing I have you...that's everything I need.

The concept that “someone like me” could wear a two-piece is apparently revolutionary. If I wear something that no one would think twice about a skinny person wearing, it automatically makes me a body-positivity warrior, instead of just a woman wearing what she damn well pleases.

anxiety is like whack-a-mole. Unpredictable, always waiting beneath the surface.

But we protect our spouses from things that cause actual harm—abuse, violence—not our inherent vulnerabilities and needs. Those are there for them to love and complement. If not,” she says pointedly, “it comes at the cost of our intimacy, our connection…our love.

I promise I’ll keep my eyes ahead, Freya.

At least I brought my Kindle.

I’ve learned that the measure of your love isn’t how “okay” you both are or how quickly you hit the curveballs that life throws at you. Love’s true test, the measure of its strength, is its bravery to be honest, its willingness to face the hardest moments and say, Even though there’s nothing to be done, at least I have you.

And read a damn romance novel,