When we started dating, Jake — my ex — and I used to play Monopoly. We kept a running tally of wins and losses for almost a year.
One would think that someone who liked Monopoly enough to play it every single day would not turn into the kind of person who refused to even consider a lovely evening spent at home with his wife, a bottle of wine and a board game.
My love for the board game made it through the last decade unscathed. His did not, and I found myself with a shelf full of games and no one to play with.
If Jake and I were to meet for the first time today, we likely wouldn't even be friends — our views on the world have become so vastly different. A year ago we found ourselves — at what we now know was the end of our marriage — with so little in common that casual conversation was sometimes difficult. Neither of us saw this happening — we just looked around one day and there it was.
Jake and I had a good marriage. It was quite wonderful for a long time. But we both changed, and we didn't change in parallel ways. How can anyone know that this won't happen each and every time?
This, I think, is what scares me the most. That you ever have are those few good years before it's time to look around, note the changes, and move on.
I've become someone who can't believe in the concept of forever. Is this cynicism? Or merely reality?