How many mistakes do you have to make before you finally correct yourself?
I do not point out other people’s mistakes. I make enough of my own to recognize myself in someone else’s.
My list is long. Relationship mistakes. Business mistakes. Emotional mistakes. Medical advice mistakes. Mistakes with friends.
When I was about to get married for the first time, yes, relationship mistake number one, I had two friends who could have stood beside me. Todd and Keith came into my life around the same time. I spent most of my free time with Keith. That, in hindsight, was probably my first mistake.
At that age, I measured friendship by social time. Keith and I went to the same high school. Todd and I worked together while he attended a different one. Proximity felt like loyalty.
When it came time to choose a best man, Keith seemed obvious. The wedding was in Connecticut. Both of them lived in Missouri. Keith declined. He did not want to travel across the country to stand next to me.
Todd did.
He knew he was my second choice and said he understood. When he stood beside me at the altar, he could see something I could not. He could see I was making a far bigger mistake than choosing between friends. My choice of wife was a blunder.
He did not say it. He just stood there.
I moved back to the St. Louis area, Todd and I reconnected. I would visit him at his office. We would have lunch and talk about the lives we were building.
One day I told him my new wife had been violently attacking me. Todd did not panic. He offered advice.
Go get a six pack. Drink three. Pack your car. Hide everything sharp or breakable. When she comes home, tell her it is over while you finish the other three.
I did not get to the other three. She came home. She searched for something to throw or something to use against me. Since I had moved everything out of reach, I was safe. I left calmly. Todd’s words stayed with me.
Three years later, Todd was my first choice. He stood at the altar again. He knew I was making another mistake. This time he said nothing.
We drifted apart.
He supported me as a friend. He did not support my decisions.
When Todd married, I sat in the crowd. I was not part of his wedding party. I was a spectator.
The next day at his new wife’s parents’ house, her grandparents were there. They had just celebrated their sixty fifth anniversary. I asked them how they had done it.
Never go to bed angry. Always talk things out until they are fixed.
It sounded simple. It was not.
My early years were full of angry nights. Fights that stretched past midnight. Conversations that felt more like competition. We were not talking things out. We were trying to win.
It was not until I stopped trying to win that we found any rhythm at all.
I regret not listening to Todd the first time. I regret not listening the second time. I regret that even when the signs were clear, I moved forward anyway.
I have not seen Todd or Keith since the mid-eighties. In different ways, both stepped out of my life.
Some mistakes cost money.
Some cost time.
Some cost friendships you do not realize are irreplaceable until they are gone.
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