Why I No Longer Depend on Anyone Else for Happiness, Fun, Or Excitement
“Never put the key to your happiness in someone else’s pocket.” ~Unknown
It was Saturday night. I sat, at my breakfast bar in my apartment, alone and in semi-darkness. Only one small lamp was turned on in the corner.
I was fuming, confused, and most of all, sad. I sprang off the breakfast barstool and began to pace. There were so many emotions circling around in me I had to keep moving in an effort to release them.
I spun around and looked at the clock above my kitchen—it was almost 7pm! He had said he was going to be there by 6pm.
Why was he not there? Did he not know I was depending on him? Didn’t he know I had planned my schedule to be there in time to hang out?
I didn’t have any other plans and felt stuck waiting in limbo. Where was he? I felt the emotions rising toward my throat as they bubbled up and threatened to explode.
I picked up my phone and called my boyfriend, trembling with frustration as the phone rang. He picked up on the third ring.
I had been waiting to hang out with him after work all day. I had imagined us meeting on time at 6pm and having a great evening together.
In my head, I had imagined us going out for a bite to eat and then maybe catching a new movie at the theatre or going to a comedy club. My day had been uneventful and boring, and I was looking forward to having an exciting evening.
I had planned and expected and prepared perfectly, and he was ruining it again! Like so many nights in the past, his job had kept him late and he was not there for me when I needed him.
“Where are you?” I barked in his ear as soon as he picked up the phone. “I’ve been waiting. I’m here at my apartment waiting to hang out with you, and you’re not here. I’ve been looking forward to hanging out all day!”
He seemed taken aback by my anger, and he fumbled for an answer to soothe me. He explained that work had kept him late and he was on his way back. He apologized for not updating me on his arrival time and assured me that he would be there soon. I spat out an “Okay, whatever,” and hung up angrily.
And there it was—the usual start to our weekends together. I slumped down in a kitchen chair realizing I had done it again. What was wrong with me?