Over the weekend, V and I were sitting on our bed with the kids romping about and I realised that right then, right there were the people who were not just most important to me but who I enjoyed being with the most.

With my kids, that was obvious from the beginning, or at least almost (during the colicky phase, I enjoyed getting away from them for a bit as much as being with them). But with V over the past couple of years, I’ve drifted away from the friendship aspect of our relationship. I felt there were other people I’d rather hang out with.

And now I am back to appreciating the himness of him. The chilled-outness, which can descend into being a couch potato but which can also be very relaxing. The stability. The ability to have conversations about anything, though he sometimes has to be forced to focus. The silliness. The buts and thoughs had begun to bother me and now suddenly, I don’t feel like they’re that big a deal anymore. He is back to being the person I enjoy spending time with the most.

We had an incredibly social couple of weekends and at the end of it, I realised, it’s not me, it’s them. Because everyone I encounter socially seems to be rubbing me the wrong way, I had begun to think that there was something wrong with me. I agree that the 30s lower one’s tolerance levels. But it is also possible that these are just people that I don’t gel well with.

What made me realise this is that V’s cousin visited us for the weekend. It was great. There were almost no off notes, except her obsessively taking photos, almost missing her flight and repeating herself. The latter I would have found most annoying, had I not mentioned it and she explained that she was gearing herself up to face certain difficult life decisions when she went back.

So it is possible for me to get along with people. Just that they need to fit really well. I can no long bear ill-fitting people. And right now, serendipitously, my own husband and children are the ones that fit me the best.