The Roads Not Taken

Every so often I'm reminded of why I could never have ended up with any woman but my wife. And before I get any sidelong glances or angry emails, allow me to clarify: I never, ever forget how much I love my wife, or why she's the perfect woman for me. I can say with absolute honesty that I always remember why I married her. But occasionally it goes a step further, and I'm given a reminder of why it wouldn't have worked with any other woman I've ever known or dated. Of the latter category, some I'm ambivalent toward, but the majority I still like as friends and wish nothing but the best; but boy, would we not have had a future together. Whether they weren't bright enough (I'm not the smartest man alive, but if I have to continually dumb down the conversation, that's a problem), or we were just killing time till graduation, or the only reason they went out with me is because they were amused by my story about accidentally walking in on two Princeton alumni having sex in an empty office during Reunions... well, there's always a reason. I guess it's probably that way for everyone.

I'll give an example of what I mean. There's this woman at work, probably in her late 20's or so. I obviously have eyes for no one but my wife, but I have it on good authority from other men in the office that she could perhaps be described as quite attractive. I don't see it myself, but I suppose if tall, thin blondes with exotic accents, exceedingly... prominent attributes, and who teach aerobics classes at local gyms and colleges are your type, well, you just might be interested. (No lie, this is 100% true- I once happened to be in the break room with another male coworker when she walked through. Once she'd passed, he turned to me and said, "God, she's got an ass that won't quit." I think I gave an eyebrow raise and mumbled something noncommittal, then retreated to my desk trying to remember where I'd parked the DeLorean so I could return home from 1959. You may be pleased to hear that he no longer works at the company.) She's in sales, which is the exact right job for her, because all she has to do is walk into a heterosexual male's office and he'll pull out his checkbook and ask what she happens to be selling and what's the maximum number he can buy. And yet, I can't STAND working on accounts with her. It's entirely possible that she's a very smart person who's simply hamstrung by the fact that English is clearly not her first language, but she comes across as not particularly bright. She never enters any information about new clients in our computer system, forcing you to research them on your own or hope that she's at her desk when you call so you can find something out about this company you're supposed to be calling. She either doesn't know or doesn't explain the products we sell well at all, so invariably new customers don't know exactly what they signed up for or should be receiving. And I just think to myself, she's perfectly friendly and I like her fine as a colleague, but if I get this frustrated working on things she's tangentially touched for only a few hours a week, what would it be like living with her? I'm sure there are those who can make a relationship work based on nothing but looks, but for my part I need the whole package: looks, brains, humor, and compatibility.

Another example: in high school, I had a massive crush on one of my fellow students. I'm quite positive she had no idea and I never did anything about it, but if you'd asked my hopelessly naive 16-year-old self, he would have sworn she was the most beautiful woman in the world. (Needless to say that was before I ever laid eyes on my wife. Or Elisha Cuthbert.) A little over a year ago they started organizing our 10-year reunion, primarily through Facebook, with the end result being that I ended up friending or being friended by a lot of my old classmates, including her. She still looks good, although I'm glad to be able to truthfully say that there is no comparison between her and my wife. But like all my other classmates, I see her status updates from time to time, and I was both surprised and gladdened recently to note that she's apparently super into the whole Twilight phenomenon, particularly the movie sequel that just came out. Surprised because, well, we're late 20/early 30-year-olds rather than preteen schoolgirls, and gladdened because it confirms to me that, even if I'd gotten up the balls to actually ask her out back in high school, it still wouldn't have worked out. To be fair, I haven't read any of the Twilight books or seen the movies, so I can't fairly critique them; I can offer that they don't sound like anything I'd be interested in and I haven't heard good things from people whose opinions I trust, but who knows, they might be great. Nevertheless, I still can't see myself feigning much interest in them, so I think it's best that I ended up with the woman who rolls her eyes at my own Harry Potter nerdery, rather than one who would drag me along to watch vampires sparkle and write poetry rather than attacking people.

So yeah- while I never forget why I married my wife, I'm also sometimes reminded of exactly why I didn't marry anyone else. Still, whether it be the ones I still like as friends, the ones I don't care for, or the ones who never knew I existed, all of them help me to realize exactly how lucky I am in who I eventually ended up with. For that, ladies, I thank you one and all. Cheers.