…and I’m feeling like a great big conflicted jerk about it.
She works in a field where the job prospects are dismal, to put it mildly. After getting laid off a couple of years ago, she’s managed to get by on freelance, but that’s a precarious existence. Lately, her assignments have started to dry up, thanks to further local layoffs in her field.
I’m in a rather comfortable position, financially. I have an awesome job, with an income that allows me do pretty much whatever I want, within reason. Plenty of dinners out, weekend trips, and a blowout international vacation every couple of years, all while maintaining a savings and maxing out my 401k. I’m reasonably happy there, and they’re paying for most of my graduate degree, which will be done in a couple of years.
I’m pretty much set. I also know that I’m damn lucky, and in this economy, I’m feeling more than a little risk averse.
We’ve been dating close to nine months. She’s 33, I’m 31. We both have a crapton of baggage, and we both agree that we’re the best thing that’s happened to each other in a long, long time. Given another few months to work through the dregs of my aforementioned baggage, I could totally see myself forgoing a few of those fancy dinners and buying a ring.
She swung by my place this evening after I got out of class, and we had a couple of drinks. She told me that she applied for five jobs today - stuff that’s only tangentially related to her field, and a couple basic administrative assistant-type jobs.
She also told me that there’s a pretty damn decent opening in a city a couple of hours away.
I told her to go for it. I said that I’m conflicted at the idea, but that, when it comes down to it, she needs to find a position where she can be happy and be appreciated for her skills and talents and experience.
Balls. There’s a teeny, tiny voice from my past telling me that I want her to fail. That I want to marry her, make a baby, and take care of her for the rest of our lives.
But I don’t really want that. She’s already understandably uncomfortable that I pick up virtually all of the tabs, even though I don’t care. I really, truly want her to be happy. She’s long overdue for some good luck.
So if I have to, I’ll let her go.
But GOD DAMN IT I don’t want to.
Shit.
Gonna go get drunk.