Oh the Filo Drama

Breaking up is hard to do. Especially when you thought he was the one.

Mr. Covey and I, Franklin Covey that is, had a fast and furious love affair. I saw him and he had to be mine. I had heard great things about him. After some hemming and hawing, I got up the gumption to introduce myself and invite him into my home. It took him a while to decide whether or not he wanted to play my game, but arrive he finally did. We created a household so pure, so loving. I thought we’d be together forever and always. He was good to me, and I filled him up like no one had before (or so he said). I molded him into being what I wanted him to be.

But, in the end, you cannot really change anyone from being who they truly are. One evening, less than a month later than when we started, we had broken up.

It’s embarrassing really; parading around a new relationship like it’s a shiny new car, when really it’s just a lemon with a beautiful coat of paint. I can’t say what exactly went wrong between Mr. Covey and me, but somehow, we fall apart as quickly as we came together.

Just this past Wednesday evening, we were together as always. We were as happy as we had ever been. It was time to work on our June schedule and for some reason, he snapped and became unruly, not giving me the room I needed to fill in my appointments. My writing was squishy and messy, and he didn’t even care! I suppose, if I’m honest with myself, this had something to do with my forcing him to be something he is not. My hack on him took away the space I needed. I was having a difficult time entering my hefty work schedule into his small space of a heart. That was when I knew something was amiss.

Previous to this point, our relationship had showed no signs of trouble—we were happy, we worked well together, he even liked the coat I gave him. But alas, you just know when something doesn’t fit right. One day, you just wake up and know it is all wrong, even from the very beginning. It felt right for a long time, but as with many “bad boy” dates, even though it feels rebellious and good on so many levels, you just know it’s not you, and you leave him behind, following your broken heart, a heart that is telling you no matter how you might try, it will just never work in the end.

Maybe it was PMS talking, maybe I was upset at his flirting with other women, his late nights out at the bar, his little black book I found, the lipstick stain of another woman on his outer pages. Whatever the reason, the damage was done, and in order to save myself the pain I would have eventually felt, I couldn’t go back.

So, I removed him from my life. I took back the personalized Malden cover I had so lovingly given him. We both cried; him a little, me a lot. He was sad, but knew he could return to his one true love, if only he could be convincing enough that he was indeed the right sized man for the job, all the while knowing she (currently) believes that A5 bigger is better. But her use of him was what he did to me—he tried to be something he wasn’t for me and he just couldn’t live that way. It was unfair of me to ask him to, just as it was unfair of him to live with his antics.

I reluctantly returned to the man I left behind, the man I left first for a wild and dirty fling with Mr. Runner, Mr. Day Runner, and then for a hearty try with Mr. Covey, the man I thought I would marry in the end but the man who turned out to be someone completely different. I hoped beyond hope that he’d accept my apology and forgive me. I was prepared to delve into my speech about how I loved him, how I was so wrong to leave him, how I thought our love had died. On my way to him, I even passed by Mr. Planner, Day Planner, who tried to catch my eye. He and I had a long relationship for a while. But it was him I left for my true love. And my true love is who I have returned to—my one love, my heart and soul, my joy, my comfort, my home. To my surprise, he was waiting for me with open arms—no apology needed, no begging of forgiveness necessary. He knew that I just needed time to figure it all out. He knew that the saying was true—if you love something, let it go; if it returns to you, it’s yours; if not, it was never meant to be.

Returning to Mr. Two-pages Per-day was a wise decision. He isn’t perfect, but then, neither am I. Together, we can become better individuals, a better couple than we once were. Returning to 2PPD (my pet name for him), I had once again found safety and comfort. It was like coming home.

I can’t promise that I won’t be tempted by Mr. Covey again, should he come back around. But I would have to think long and hard about whether I’d want to again destroy a good thing just to dabble in something so wrong and torrid. There is a possibility that Mr. Covey and I can reconcile, but after what I put 2PPD through, I’m not sure I could go that route again.

Only time will tell…