I had an interesting conversation with an old friend yesterday.

I was telling her about my new relationship and, naturally, she wanted to see a photograph.

She looked at the picture and her reaction was wonderfully honest:

“Oh, that’s much better than Mr Misery. You were always far too glamorous to be with him!”

Well, you can’t argue with an old friend who has apparently been keeping photographic evidence for decades.

But then she said something much more important.

“Whatever you do, don’t let him ruin your new relationship.”

And that really stayed with me.

Because she wasn’t saying it because she thought he might somehow interfere directly. She knew something I had gradually come to understand myself:

He had always had a remarkable talent for putting a dampener on anything happy.

And not just when it came to me.

Birthdays? Potentially ruined.

Christmas? Why enjoy it when you could find something to complain about?

Holidays? Far too much opportunity for someone to be miserable.

Weddings, christenings, family celebrations? Apparently happiness needed to be carefully monitored.

Even his own birthday wasn’t safe.

Looking back, it is almost comical.

Most people look forward to celebrations. Some people tolerate them.

And then there are the people who appear to regard every happy occasion as a personal challenge:

“How quickly can I make everyone wish they’d stayed at home?”

For a long time, I took that behaviour personally.

If something good happened and he managed to spoil it, I thought it must somehow be about me.

Now I see it differently.

He was the same with family.

The same pattern appeared over and over again, regardless of who was involved or what the occasion was.

That changes your perspective.

Because when somebody repeatedly manages to spoil birthdays, Christmases, holidays, weddings and family celebrations, eventually you have to consider the possibility that the common denominator isn’t the occasion.

It’s the person.

And once you recognise that, something rather liberating happens.

You stop asking:

“What did I do to cause this?”

And start thinking:

“Oh… that’s just what he does.”

Which means I don’t have to carry it anymore.

And my friend was absolutely right about one thing:

I mustn’t allow someone else’s lifelong relationship with misery to become part of my new relationship.

That would be giving him far too much importance.

The past has already had its turn.

The new relationship deserves laughter, spontaneity, affection, ridiculous conversations, photographs, meals that take too long, holidays, celebrations and all the other wonderfully ordinary things that make life enjoyable.

And if someone wants to sit in the corner looking offended because everyone else is having a nice time…

Well, that’s entirely their choice.

I’m choosing the party.

And after years of having someone else put the brakes on happiness, I’ve discovered something rather lovely:

Happiness doesn’t actually require permission.

And neither does a photograph with a much better-looking man. 😉