I had a very entertaining conversation with an old friend yesterday.
I was telling her about my new relationship, so naturally she wanted to see a photograph.
I showed her one.
She looked at it and said:
“Oh, that’s much better than Mr Misery. You were always far too glamorous for him.”
There are some friends who offer tact.
And then there are old friends who have apparently been waiting 30 years for the opportunity to give you an honest review. 😂
But then she said something that was actually very important:
“Don’t let him ruin your new relationship.”
And she was right.
Because Mr Misery had a rather impressive talent.
He could take almost any enjoyable occasion and somehow turn it into an administrative problem.
Birthday?
Potentially troublesome.
Christmas?
Proceed with caution.
Holiday?
Best pack a suitcase, sunscreen and emotional protective equipment.
Family celebration?
Someone might actually be enjoying themselves. Something must be done.
Wedding?
Too much happiness in one room.
Christening?
People smiling unnecessarily.
Even his own birthday wasn’t entirely safe.
Most people think of their birthday as a day when everyone else makes an effort to make them happy.
Mr Misery appeared to regard it as an annual opportunity to discover what everyone had done wrong.
It was almost a gift.
His ability to find the grey cloud inside the silver lining was genuinely impressive.
And for years I thought it was about me.
Perhaps I hadn’t done enough.
Perhaps I should have been more cheerful.
Perhaps I should have been more understanding.
Perhaps I should have developed a professional qualification in avoiding the mood of the day.
But looking back, the pattern was much bigger than me.
He was like it with family too.
It didn’t really matter whether it was a birthday, Christmas, holiday, wedding or christening.
If there was happiness in the vicinity, he seemed determined to inspect it for defects.
Eventually you realise something rather liberating:
You can’t be responsible for somebody else’s refusal to enjoy life.
And then comes the slightly surreal experience of being with someone completely different.
Someone who actually likes laughing.
Who can enjoy a meal without conducting a forensic investigation into the service.
Who can go somewhere beautiful without immediately identifying the parking problem.
Who can make plans without treating them as a personal attack.
Who sees you looking happy and doesn’t immediately appear to wonder how to stop it.
And that’s when you realise just how strange the old normal had become.
With the right person, happiness doesn’t feel like something you have to negotiate.
You don’t have to calculate your enthusiasm.
You don’t have to think:
“Is now a good time to mention that I’m having a lovely day?”
You simply have one.
And perhaps that’s what my friend was really reminding me of.
Don’t carry the old atmosphere into the new life.
Don’t expect sabotage because you’re used to it.
Don’t apologise for being happy because someone previously made happiness feel dangerous.
And, above all, don’t allow somebody else’s lifelong relationship with misery to become your inheritance.
Mr Misery had his era.
It was quite a long-running production.
There were sequels.
Special editions.
Christmas specials nobody requested.
But thankfully, the programme has now been cancelled.
The new series has a rather different tone.
More laughter.
More affection.
More spontaneity.
More “let’s go!”
Less “what’s the point?”
And considerably fewer occasions requiring a diplomatic incident report.
So here’s to the new chapter.
I’m not expecting perfection.
I’m perfectly happy with ordinary happiness.
A good conversation.
A good laugh.
A lovely day.
Someone who is genuinely pleased to see me enjoying myself.
And a man who doesn’t regard my happiness as a personal inconvenience.
Frankly, after all those years…
what a luxury.
And if Mr Misery ever wonders what happened to the woman he used to know?
She finally discovered that she wasn’t glamorous despite being happy.
She was glamorous because she finally was. 😉
