I was reading Fran's blog today and found myself filling his comment box with more than a comment, I'm just going to respond here...
"I don't want to believe that love comes so easy to people. Because if it's something like that, I'll wait around for it to happen to me. And what if it doesn't? I can't believe in it like that, because I'll be terrified it will never happen." --Fran, Boy Bewildered
As I've gotten older I've realized that love happens to people in so many different ways. I was reading this thinking about who I've loved and how difficult, or easy its been...
The first boy I ever loved was JF. It was eighth grade and I was sick in love with him (BQ, stop laughing.) He was sort of a bad boy, in the way that I look back now and he seems, well, dorky. No matter though, I really did love him. Just because. I was thirteen and he was nice to me, and kind of out of my reach. When I finally got up the courage to "ask him out" he said no. Then he got another girlfriend like two days later. Years later, I was happy nothing ever happened with us. Because we were always really good friends after that. He's married to a girl from my high school now. We don't speak much, but I know if I saw him I could expect a huge hug.
The second time I thought I was in love was with the first boy I ever kissed. DF was a football player. I was a cheerleader. It seemed like the right thing to do. We had this whole "Romeo and Juliet" thing going on because my parents really didn't want me to date anybody and most of his friends didn't like me, and most of mine didn't like him. But we held hands at school, wrote one another notes during classes, and made out whenever we got the chance. I thought I loved him because he said he loved me, that was all. I found out later that he broke up with me because I wouldn't have sex with him. So much for love...
Then there was The Ex. I sat next to him in my English class for a whole semester without talking to him, and ignored him in my Biology class, because he wasn't as popular as I thought I was. Then one day I got in trouble for talking to much to my friends, I was moved to the other side of the room, right next to him. I remember the moment like it was yesterday, it still brings tears to my eyes. Those brown eyes fixed on mine. That smile. He was different then. Not the angry young man who would later push me down stairs, or spit in my face. He was perfect, and sweet, and he loved me from the minute I walked across that room. The day he asked if I needed a ride home, I knew I loved him too. I stepped into that old Porsche 944 and our arms brushed and I was smitten. It was easy to love him. No work at all. He knew then, and somewhere still knows now, every dream, every whisper of hope in my heart, and every inch of my body. But it got bad. Worse than bad. That's when I found out that loving someone isn't enough. Being soulmates isn't enough.
When I met E I was escaping. Escaping the horrors of my rape, and of what The Ex and I had become. E was warm, and he made me feel safe and beautiful. I couldn't stay away from him. Every moment with him had me craving more. It became so that when he wasn't there I felt panicked and lonely. We gave up the rest of our lives to only be with each other for awhile. After that time passed we had destroyed things, and neither one of us was strong enough to fix what was wrong. His problems and mine combined were too much. He was desperately scraping for money, and survival, just to keep himself in school. I was trying to hold onto my sanity, like trying to grab at water with your hands. Eventually all the juggling balls fell out of the air. In my darkest hour he couldn't be there, because his stuff was too much for him to deal with. I almost died because of both of our irresponsibility. Nothing could ever be the same between us again. Neither one us of us trusted the other. And we know now that love still isn't enough. Both people have to want to be there for the other. There has to be an agreement of responsibility for the relationship. Either both are in or everyone ends up out.
Now, I don't know... I know I can trust D with every fiber of my physical being. He would never let me fall, he'll never let me hurt myself if I get sick again, and I'll always be safe with him. He's smart, smarter than any man I've ever known. He's charismatic, and handsome. And I've never had sex like that. Ever.
But I don't know if I can trust him with my heart. He's already broken it before, more than once, and I'm finding it difficult, in its still healing together state to hand it over again. He says I don't have to. That this will all take some time. D says that real love takes time, and work. He says that if we take things slowly that terrifying fear in the pit of my stomach will go away, and I'll know how much he loves me. Because he says that he won't leave. I want to believe this. I want to believe that this can happen.
But Fran really hit it on the head... Can it be this easy? After all of what we've been through, can he really love me? Do I deserve to have everything I've ever wanted for the past two years handed to me? I'm having a hard time believing that this can happen. I'm having such a hard time relaxing. In some ways I feel like it might be better to just sit tight with all the walls up for awhile. We'll see.
What I do know, in the midst of my confusion about my current situation is this: Real love isn't easy, it is difficult. That's how you know it is real, because things were difficult and your love withstood it. Maroon 5 said it really well :
"I don't want to believe that love comes so easy to people. Because if it's something like that, I'll wait around for it to happen to me. And what if it doesn't? I can't believe in it like that, because I'll be terrified it will never happen." --Fran, Boy Bewildered
As I've gotten older I've realized that love happens to people in so many different ways. I was reading this thinking about who I've loved and how difficult, or easy its been...
The first boy I ever loved was JF. It was eighth grade and I was sick in love with him (BQ, stop laughing.) He was sort of a bad boy, in the way that I look back now and he seems, well, dorky. No matter though, I really did love him. Just because. I was thirteen and he was nice to me, and kind of out of my reach. When I finally got up the courage to "ask him out" he said no. Then he got another girlfriend like two days later. Years later, I was happy nothing ever happened with us. Because we were always really good friends after that. He's married to a girl from my high school now. We don't speak much, but I know if I saw him I could expect a huge hug.
The second time I thought I was in love was with the first boy I ever kissed. DF was a football player. I was a cheerleader. It seemed like the right thing to do. We had this whole "Romeo and Juliet" thing going on because my parents really didn't want me to date anybody and most of his friends didn't like me, and most of mine didn't like him. But we held hands at school, wrote one another notes during classes, and made out whenever we got the chance. I thought I loved him because he said he loved me, that was all. I found out later that he broke up with me because I wouldn't have sex with him. So much for love...
Then there was The Ex. I sat next to him in my English class for a whole semester without talking to him, and ignored him in my Biology class, because he wasn't as popular as I thought I was. Then one day I got in trouble for talking to much to my friends, I was moved to the other side of the room, right next to him. I remember the moment like it was yesterday, it still brings tears to my eyes. Those brown eyes fixed on mine. That smile. He was different then. Not the angry young man who would later push me down stairs, or spit in my face. He was perfect, and sweet, and he loved me from the minute I walked across that room. The day he asked if I needed a ride home, I knew I loved him too. I stepped into that old Porsche 944 and our arms brushed and I was smitten. It was easy to love him. No work at all. He knew then, and somewhere still knows now, every dream, every whisper of hope in my heart, and every inch of my body. But it got bad. Worse than bad. That's when I found out that loving someone isn't enough. Being soulmates isn't enough.
When I met E I was escaping. Escaping the horrors of my rape, and of what The Ex and I had become. E was warm, and he made me feel safe and beautiful. I couldn't stay away from him. Every moment with him had me craving more. It became so that when he wasn't there I felt panicked and lonely. We gave up the rest of our lives to only be with each other for awhile. After that time passed we had destroyed things, and neither one of us was strong enough to fix what was wrong. His problems and mine combined were too much. He was desperately scraping for money, and survival, just to keep himself in school. I was trying to hold onto my sanity, like trying to grab at water with your hands. Eventually all the juggling balls fell out of the air. In my darkest hour he couldn't be there, because his stuff was too much for him to deal with. I almost died because of both of our irresponsibility. Nothing could ever be the same between us again. Neither one us of us trusted the other. And we know now that love still isn't enough. Both people have to want to be there for the other. There has to be an agreement of responsibility for the relationship. Either both are in or everyone ends up out.
Now, I don't know... I know I can trust D with every fiber of my physical being. He would never let me fall, he'll never let me hurt myself if I get sick again, and I'll always be safe with him. He's smart, smarter than any man I've ever known. He's charismatic, and handsome. And I've never had sex like that. Ever.
But I don't know if I can trust him with my heart. He's already broken it before, more than once, and I'm finding it difficult, in its still healing together state to hand it over again. He says I don't have to. That this will all take some time. D says that real love takes time, and work. He says that if we take things slowly that terrifying fear in the pit of my stomach will go away, and I'll know how much he loves me. Because he says that he won't leave. I want to believe this. I want to believe that this can happen.
But Fran really hit it on the head... Can it be this easy? After all of what we've been through, can he really love me? Do I deserve to have everything I've ever wanted for the past two years handed to me? I'm having a hard time believing that this can happen. I'm having such a hard time relaxing. In some ways I feel like it might be better to just sit tight with all the walls up for awhile. We'll see.
What I do know, in the midst of my confusion about my current situation is this: Real love isn't easy, it is difficult. That's how you know it is real, because things were difficult and your love withstood it. Maroon 5 said it really well :
"It's not always rainbows and butterflies
It's compromise that moves us along"
2 Comments:
Ironically, as I was reading this post, that Rhett Miller song came on iTunes... Y'know, "Am I gonna be lonely for the rest of my life...."
I was thinking about exactly this today. Hmm.
"Do I deserve to have everything I've ever wanted for the past two years handed to me?"
Deserve's a dangerous word. I don't think what you get has anything to do with what you deserve.
Don't think about deserve. Think about being happy. And do whatever it takes until you are, and then stay there :)
Sorry if this sounds ominous
*tries to think of light-hearted comment* *fails* :)
Post a Comment
<< Home