The writer talks about being happy -- but complacent -- in her relationship with a guy she'd dated since her sophomore year of college.
She explains a nagging urge for something more:
I loved him more than anything, but when it came to marriage, I felt like a little kid. And when it came to the life we’d made for ourselves, I felt trapped.
I wanted more in a vague, inexplicable way, and until I could put my finger on it, the restlessness would continue. I had been planted, but I hadn’t bloomed yet.
So breaks up with her fiance, and on a whim takes a job in Chicago -- her dream city.
I knew I would feel regret no matter what I chose—but which form of regret was I willing to bear? The pain of hurting a loved one, or the endless dissatisfaction that comes with knowing there is a you that you never got to be?
However, the writer is reunited with her former fiance more than a year later when she suffers a death in her family. Their feelings are just as strong, and they get back together.
But the writer is quick to note that wouldn't have happened had she not taken her personal journey to Chicago.
Tell me: Have you ever had to temporarily set out on your own to be happy with someone you love?
