A Note: I wrote this at the same time I wrote the previous well-commented post The Ban.
I considered titling this post “The Heart of the Matter,” which I am now hearing in my head (the India Arie cover), but opted out because it’s a very sad song and this is a happy post.
Frankly, BFD and I have been trying to get down to the heart of the matter . . . and I think we finally have.
Since my perplexing date with BFD on Friday night, we fought on Saturday afternoon, canceled our plans on Sunday mutually (I went to a screening instead), spoke at length on Monday afternoon, exchanged emails (mostly related to the fucking car), spoke at length Monday night when we again outlined our issues and I came to understand a few important things.
Here’s what I know: I love this man — truly, madly, deeply. I really do. I hate to admit it to myself or to anyone else, but I really love him. I am “in love” with him. I am. I deny it, of course, even to myself.
When we argued on Monday, I realized that I know his heart and he knows mine. He always hears in the silence what I am too afraid to tell him. He knows me and I never ever ever give him credit. Not here, not with my friends, not in real life, and not to him.
I often treat him and think of him as someone who is somewhat indifferent towards me. But he’s not. He’s involved and engaged and active in this relationship. He worries about me, cares for me, protects me, and is always here for me. I often hold him at a distance in reality because I am afraid to be vulnerable, and yet, he’s still here. He does push me, but I know intuitively what he is doing, what he means by it, and where he is.
I know his heart. When I feel the need to explain things to other people, the heart gets lost in translation. It’s impossible for me to say, yeah, but I know where we actually are and how it feels and what my heart tells me and what my brain tells me. I am experiencing all of this and then writing about it, warts and all, misunderstandings, misapprehensions, misperceptions, and mistakes. I am often wrong about him. Yes, he can be an asshole, but I know his heart and he knows mine.
There is a lot I have been getting wrong about him and about us. I have been hearing the static and noise from my friends and feeling the need to justify our behaviors to make them palatable to other people and becoming more uncertain. And you know, that’s just wrong.