A Thousand Pieces

Lately I've been into The Fray. I know you're thinking to yourself, "Where have you been? They've been around since 2002." And no, I'm not into them for 'How to Save a Life.' The song that's been getting heavy rotation in my life's playlist is 'She Is.' The chore claims, "She is everything I want that I never knew I needed. She is everything I need that I never knew I wanted." On the surface it would appear that the girl in the song vastly exceeds his expectations. A year ago I would've agreed with that sentiment whole heartedly. To realize why I don't necessarily believe that is the singular explanation to the lyric now, or why it's hitting so close to home at this point in my life, we need to go back to a time I neither knew nor recognized what it was that I specifically needed or wanted.
When we start dating our desires are few and specific. We probably want someone cute and nice. As we mature, those wants become greater and we start to prioritize them. A lot like assembling a puzzle. Early on, it's a 12 piece puzzle of a dinosaur. Simple enough and when it's done you have a cartoon dinosaur and a mild sense of accomplishment. As you get older and your wants and needs grow and mature, your puzzle becomes exponentially more difficult. In any relationship, things become prioritized as well as compromised. Maybe this or that isn't as important as we first thought. Maybe we can live without this altogether. And then there's this attribute...we didn't even consider that. Or maybe we used to want that, but haven't had it in so long we'd forgotten we ever desired it? No matter how you look at it....it's complicated. Just like a big complicated puzzle! So you meet someone you like and the process begins. You have dumped the pieces out before you and slowing begin. You invest yourself. Time and patience. You learn things about each other. The pieces start to come together. As progress is made, you pick up the pace. A future becomes evident with each new day's investment. Before you know it, you're falling in love. Before you on the table lies a beautiful scene of Paris at night. In the center is the Eiffel Tower. But wait....there are six pieces missing. I mean it's not that big of a deal, right? You still have a beautiful picture of the Eiffel Tower. So what if there are a few pieces missing. But what of those missing pieces? What are you going to do about them? This is the decision that should give more people pause. How important are those six pieces? Is it as superficial as squeezing the tube of toothpaste from the middle? Or are you an introvert while she's an extrovert? Is it merely some random piece of the Paris skyline or is it a piece of the spotlight atop the tower? You have spent a lot of time and invested a lot of yourself in getting to this point. You do still have a beautiful picture of the Eiffel Tower. Maybe that should good enough. I'd be willing to bet that the 30+% of marriages that will fail this year believed that those six pieces were something they could live without. In looking back at both my failed marriages, I can say that I tried for years to look at the beauty of the Eiffel Tower...yet my eye were always drawn to those six random holes.
So life goes on. We put together puzzle after puzzle. We go slower now. Invest ourselves at a little more cautious pace. This ones missing a piece. This ones missing a dozen. With each puzzle we get both more determined to find one with every piece and more jaded that such a puzzle doesn't exist. And just at the moment your cynicism gets the best of you, and you say, "fuck it. I'm done!"......she appears. She seems nice, cute, fit, interesting...the picture has piqued your interest and desire. You decide that this puzzle is worth your undivided attention and commitment. Time flies by as you put the pieces together. The puzzle's scene is strangely familiar, which helps you fit it together with unfamiliar ease. With each piece you pick up you discover something. It might be simple and obvious like your shared love of the outdoors or something considerably less significant, like how we always unpack and do laundry before we relax after a trip. Pieces I never even considered or remembered to be important were flying into place at a fevered pace. Things I need, that I never knew I wanted.