Do you know the movie Good Luck Chuck? The one where each ex marries after they break up?
Allow me to refresh your memory.
It was 2007, and Dane Cook was pretending to be a romantic hero rather than a disgusting comedian. He played Chuck, a guy the girls would date due to rumors that they would meet “The One” and get married immediately after breaking up with him.
Where am I going with this? Hi, nice to meet you, I’m good luck, Chuck. Or the female version at least. (Lucky Liz? No, that makes it sound like I’m the lucky one, and let me tell you I’m not.)
Look, I have a little history. I date men, sometimes for years. Then they marry the next woman they meet. Sometimes the engagement is longer. Sometimes they get married within months of us separating. After years with me.
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So, I guess what I want to ask is: What’s wrong with me?
Now I know that sounds defeatist like I’m playing the victim. But seriously, after the third or fourth time you spot one of your exes walking down the aisle with the girl who was supposed to be Miss Rebound, it kind of starts to get to you. I like it a lot.
Like, what does that girl have that I don’t?
“But Liz,” I hear you say. “It’s not your fault. They weren’t right for you. There’s plenty of fish in the sea, blah, blah, blah.”
You’d be right, of course. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s suspicious how many times I’ve dated guys who married the girl right after me.
When I go through the list of men I’ve been with, I think the only ones who haven’t married Miss Next in Line are my first boyfriend, Mr. First (we were 16, and marriage would have been nice – a bold statement at that age), and my last partner, Mr. Narcissist.
Or at least I don’t think he did; I haven’t seen or heard from him literally since the second we broke up (an accomplishment I’m very proud of).
Knowing my history, despite being a huge commitment-phobe when we dated, Mr. Narcissist could very well be a good fit and walking down the aisle as I write this.
Over the years, I’ve heard every excuse under the sun. “One day we’ll get married” (and seven years later I was still waiting for “someday”). “I’m committed to you, and I’m not sure I’m the married type” (this guy took responsibility for me to stay, but funny thing…turned out he was the married type a few months after we broke up).
Even “We’ll be engaged this time next year!” This was a giant, steaming pile. We weren’t engaged “by this time next year.” Nor in the following year. Nor in the following year.
And then, every time, almost without fail, there is Mr. “I don’t think I believe in marriage,” he stares at me on Facebook, standing with a happy smile next to the girl he met (maybe even just seconds away). ) right after me. Or in one case, while he was still seeing me, but that’s another story.
So I talked to my three ever-loyal friends — Miss Optimist, Miss Realist, and Miss Tough Love — over lunch one day. (Yes, I have three best friends, we eat brunch, and I have a drama waiting to happen. Netflix, I’m waiting for your call.)
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“You’re the one before the one!” Miss Realist gasped as she finished listing all the men who married the next woman they met. “You’re, like, a dating urban legend!”
great. You’re practically a meme.
I was angry. “not fair!” I moan. “I put up with all their troubles, with the promise of marriage dangling in front of me, sometimes for years, and then we break up and suddenly another woman gets my reward?”
“Did you want to marry them anyway?” said the optimistic lady. “I think you dodged a fair few bullets there.” Well, yeah, good point, but what made people not want to get married and then go full-on with the next girl?
Then Miss Tough Love spoke. “You know what this is, don’t you?” I stared blankly. “Because they were with you, they married the next girl.”
I groaned. “Oh my God, there’s something wrong with me.”
“Or not, you idiot, I think it’s quite the opposite,” she explained. “I think it’s because there’s something right with you. You’re a good human being. I think you teach others around you to be good human beings, provided you do so with a lot of insults and sarcasm, but underneath it all, you’re good.”
“You’re not afraid to express yourself and tell people when they’re hurting you. I think by the time these guys leave you, they’ve gone from uncultured mama’s boys to functioning human beings, ready to go out into the world as adults. Well, except for Mr. Narcissist.”
I thought about that a little. Without wanting to blow my own trumpet, could there be something to this? Could it be less good luck Liz, and more just good human Liz?
After much thought and contemplation, I decided that as much as I wanted to take credit for turning my exes into adults, I couldn’t. But what I can do is realize that if I look at each of my relationships, I have learned something from each one.
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Mr. First taught me that 16-year-old boys say stupid things when they want to have sex.
Mr. First Love taught me that with love comes pain, but I would rather have both than neither.
Mr. Sports taught me to trust my instincts and listen to my intuition.
The master narcissist taught me to stand up for myself and not lose myself in the relationship.
All the men in the middle have taught me to be more selective when it comes to men.
All of these things have made me a much better person, and when the time comes, they will make me much better at dealing with all the things that come with relationships, both good and very bad.
Was it possible for my exes to learn how to love someone fully and completely through their beta experience with me? Could the ways they hurt me help them have more empathy next time? it was mine? Were we a misfit? Is all this analysis futile because it all depends on timing and luck?
I would like to say a little about all of the above.
It is also possible that by the time we broke up, they felt it was time to give in to social pressure and get married. Or it could just be a complete coincidence that after me, each of these men met the one woman who made their hearts light up and say, “This one.”
The truth is, I’ll never know.
Maybe it all comes down to timing. They met someone after learning all the stuff, while I stayed home watching Netflix. If I could meet a sweet, kind, funny guy in my living room without the superficiality of Tinder, that would be nice, thank you.
In the meantime, men, if you want to get married (or even if you don’t), form an organized line. He won’t be with me, but as soon as we part ways you will meet the woman of your dreams.
You’re welcome.
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