This post I have to write in complete metaphor. The reason being, that I'm too ashamed to even write it with the pseudonym names I have on this blog. So here goes.
Let's say that there's a park. This park is the best. It's been your favourite park for a really long time. You see this park often. You go there when it's sunny and relax on the park benches as the warm rays soak into you. You escape there when it's windy, inside the massive and comforting gazebo. You even have a secret little tree, with its wide-reaching branches that protect you from the coldest rain. No matter what the weather, this favourite park is always there for you.
As life goes on, and you ponder the meaning of life, you begin to think about this park. You love the park, and will always love it. However you are open to exploring other parks, and begin to see the heightened beauty of another park that you have always walked past to get to your favourite park. Let's call this other park park B.
Park B has other beauties that you appreciate. When the suns rays stream down onto the park bench you sit at there, the warmth is so strong that you immediately see the reddening on your skin. It too houses protection from the elements, and though it has no gazebo to keep you safe from the cold days, it has some nice feathery trees that keep you protected enough when the weather turns chilly. You don't mind this compromise, because of the intense heat you get whilst sitting there.
Park B also fits in with your preferred lifestyle. You find yourself getting colder each day, and yearn for the powerful heat you get from that park, even if it means getting stuck there during a cold spell and suffering slightly because you don't have as much protection as you do from your first park. You still love the first park; of course, it will always be your first proper and favourite park; yet you wonder whether over the coming years, you will start to wane away from it, and visit Park B more often, slowly edging away from the park that used to be your only one.
You're excited by the warmth you receive from Park B. You start to imagine the future and all the possibilities you have in visiting this park, and create fantasies where you are visiting Park B, and receiving all the beautiful warmth you can possibly dream of.
Just when you think things are going fantastic, when you think nothing could possibly change your feelings towards Park B, something happens. You walk to Park B one day and find someone sitting on your park bench. The one you thought was reserved for you and only you. Sure, parks are public places, and anyone can come and visit any park they choose. But something about the way the sun's rays hit this person as they sit on your supposed park bench, unsettle you. The way the park's trees sway in accordance to the soft wind, and the tree branches bend so that this person on your park bench can get the ultimate sun impact. And what a glorious sun they are getting. The warmth shining on their face is almost blinding.
You walk away, disheartened. Things suddenly appear different. Cold and confused, you wrap your arms around you; you realise you've been wearing lighter clothes.
You begin to think of your first park. The one and only park. It needs no other name to describe it. Yes, that park housed many a people who ventured into it. But it always seemed to hold a special place for you. It never favoured anyone else, or made anyone feel as comfortable there as it did with you. It kept you warm, and most importantly, kept you protected from every single element that dared to disturb your splendour. And it was waiting for you to come back all along.
You walk to your first park, guiltily. You feel ashamed. You look at your park, and know that your park knows. Your park knows where you've been. It's aware of your recent feelings, and knows that you've been visiting Park B more and more as of late.
You smile at the park and walk over to your park bench. Here, the park's branches move so that the sunlight that streams down on you is the best there that you can get. Sure, it's not blinding. But blinding isn't always good. Sometimes blinding can be too much.
You settle into the bench, close your eyes, and allow the park to love you as it always has.
Afterword
This is definitely not about Hubbie. I love him more than ever and this is definitely not about our relationship.
What I will say though is that there is a moral to this story: The grass is always greener in your park. Don't forget this.
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