I’ve come to realize I’m a transitional wife, though I’ve
not been married. Some have work husbands—a man who you work with more often
than being at home with your own, and you like them quite possibly better than
your own husband. One of my best friends told me that she is a transitional
friend, someone that helps grow another individual to the next phase of their life.
I’m the in between, the wife many people wish they had, only due to a variety
of reasons they move on.
This conclusion comes from several friends over the years
that I’ve helped transition into new relationships. Women who date them now,
you’re welcome.
There is this idea, a trope you see in movies quite
frequently ‘Manic Pixie Dream Girl’ and while I’m not manic, nor pixie, or even
dreamy I somehow fill this role for the men I meet. I don’t mean to do it and
maybe that is one of the reasons it works so effectively. I enjoy men. All
kinds. Usually though, by the time they meet me they are beaten down by women
who are just selfish. Somehow, I reestablish their faith in the female
demographic and they eventually move on. That is the part of the trope you don’t
often see. Thus, I feel like a transitional wife. One man told me recently that
I gave him the gift of a foot in front of the other; he just needed someone to
care. I think that is the most honest thing about my interactions with people,
I just care. I want people to be as good as they possibly can without changing
who they are. Because of that, I’m fine being a transitional wife, for now.
