What Makes One Happy? Part 3
In my last two articles, I wrote about what makes me happy, both in the short-term and long-term. I spent very little time on my short-term happiness, and I plan to keep it that way in this article. It’s my long-term happiness that I will focus on in this article.
When I think about what makes me happy in the short-term, I can’t help but think about listening to one of my favorite songs on my audio system. Be it on my smartphone, my home audio system, or in my awesome care with seven thunderous speakers that make my pants-leg move to the beat of the song. Wow. I also love hanging out with my friends, sharing food & drink over a meal. They are the most terrific friends in the world, and you know who you are. I’m looking forward to our next get together. Plus there are all the little things that happen each day, such as the feeling of completion of a job well done. All sorts of little things that make life fun and exciting.
Still, in the big picture, all of these little happiness’ do not measure up or compare to sharing these moments with an extraordinary woman. I’m fortunate enough to have found such a woman. There was a time, lasting for more than a decade where I feared I would not.
Now, I know that there are people out there, that do not need another person in their life. They hook up with someone and move on after a short while. That’s alright. It’s their life, and they are free to live it as they like.
However, for me, I can’t do that. In the short-term, sure. When I’m single and available, everything is game-on. From one night stands to hanging out for a couple of months is fine. But I’ve always known since I was a young adult, I needed someone to share my life with in profound and meaningful ways. I need a woman in my life. She has to be extraordinary, beautiful, and kind. I need a woman who will return my love, as I am, faults and all. Besides, I look upon the lady of my love with rosy glasses anyway, so she will be perfect in my eyes.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I have my faults and plenty of them. Yet, one thing I have learned in all my years is that in order to survive and thrive; I must be who I am. For too many years, I wore a mask hiding my true self and trying to be the person I thought she wanted me to be. What a mistake that was. I lost decades of happiness as a result.
Thankfully, I have rectified that error. I speak my mind, unforgiving in standing up for my beliefs. If you don’t like them, or can’t deal with them, well that’s on you. I am who I am and you can either accept it or not. Fortunately, my lady-love does accept me for who I am. I know that there are parts that she does not like but I must have more than enough to overcome those as she professes her love for me in return.
She makes me happy. Ecstatic in fact. Here’s how. In my everyday life, I have to leave the house and go to work, just as most of us have to. I’m functional and happy when I am away. I’m stable and even keel even when we’re apart.
The closer I get to her physically, the happier I get. When we’re in close proximity, my happiness scale jumps radically. And when we touch each other, physically touch and just about anywhere on each others body, my soul sings. 
Take when we’re sleeping. I am overjoyed when we spoon up to each other; one arm draped over the other. My happiness meter jumps into the red-zone. As we sleep, I can sense when we roll over and are apart. That meter dips down and out of the red-zone. In my semi-conscious state, I’ll reach out and touch whatever part of her I can, just to connect and move that meter up. If for whatever reason, she rolls over to face me and in her sleep reaches out and holds me, I feel that meter explodes well above the red-zone.
The thing that surprises me is that her touch doesn’t have to be sexual at all. It’s the simple connection of skin to skin that excites me. Now, don’t get me wrong. I live for the sexual kinds of touch, but I tend to include those in the short-term happiness column. The long-term, red-zone touches are what make me happiest.
Touching is just one of the must haves on my short list in a long-term relationship. Yes, there are a few more, and in total are less than ten. She and I have shared that list with each other. There are lots more on the ‘it would be nice if she …’ list, but if some are missing, that’s alright. It’s the must-have list that is most important to me. I’ve already written about two of those on the list. I won’t list them all or otherwise; this article could become a novel, short as the list is. I am fortunate to have found a girl, no, a woman, who satisfies every one of those items.
We have our pet names for each other. Mine for her has changed over the years. The last couple of years, I’ve referred to her as ‘My Love.’ I use it everywhere. I call her that at the checkout counter of the grocery store or when I am answering a private question about which type of beans I prefer. I love saying that. “Yes, my love.” “No my love.” “Hey, love, want to go to a movie?” I hope she smiles every time she hears me say it. I certainly do.
I am thankful to her for everything she gives me. I suppose that at times, she doesn’t recognize it, but when things quiet down, I am positive that she does. I think about her every day, no, just about every minute of the day. I regularly review what she would think and do in this situation or that. What would she think about a decision I am contemplating? Or just simply, picture her in my mind and smile.
One time, I feared I would never find the love of my life. Well, that’s not quite true. I was confident I would. I would search forever if need be to find her. I found her in the most extraordinary way and on our first date, we talked for hours over dinner which included some of the most bizarre topics. Topics that included how we would like to be buried when we died. How odd is that on a first date?
So, I have found her, the love of my life. The one that makes me happy in the long-term. She’s the one. Love, don’t you ever die on me. You hear me, love? I’ve got too much loving to do and much more happiness to explore.
