Welp…. I guess it was time friends. Might help me to get it off of my chest anyway.
I have no idea where to start. A few posts back I confessed that I know I love him, or it had occurred to me that I had those feelings for him. We had a whole paragraph about love being a gift. A lot and nothing at all have both happened since then.
I am a poker player most of the time. It’s a great metaphor because I hold my cards close to my chest, but I also only let people see like 3 out of 5 cards so it seems like they know what’s going on with me. It’s an old habit. Hard to break. Serves me no purpose anymore.
My only excuse has ever been self preservation. No one tells everyone everything right? Well, it started to feel more like bluffing my way through life than being genuine, and I hated it.
After I realized how I felt, I did what I always do: gave it time to sink in and for my heart to tell me what to do. Any time I do this though either the heaviness of my secret vanishes or it just gets heavier and sits on me till I can’t breathe. I was gasping for air by the time I saw my way through this one.
I decided, since I’m no longer making fear the ruler of this heart or head, that I had to tell him.
Just thinking about the process it took me to come to this conclusion makes me nauseous. I questioned God’s will on this one. I second guessed my own feelings. I looked for soooooooo many other solutions to this revelation. None came. I had to crack open my heart and serve it to him on a plate. With a smile on my face.
Here is where I tell you- some things are both hard and easy all at the same time. The truth feels good to me. Even the bad things feel liberating because I’ve gotten to a place where I don’t care if someone judges me. That’s not my problem. That’s there’s.
Sooooooooo…. how to deliver this important message? I had already written him two emails that I’m almost 95% positive he never got. He hadn’t responded to texts. What else was there?
Mail. I had his address. And a beanie he’d left at my house that no longer smelled like him. *I know. I know* I drafted a lengthy 3 page letter. Just excessive. It somehow seemed to just write those three words and slip it into the envelope wasn’t enough. In for a penny in for a pound I guess.
The hard part came after my package, beanie and letter, came back to me. I cried buckets because I didn’t understand. My heart was broken, not by him, but by God. I had prayed, meditated, waited till I felt in my heart it was the right thing to do, and all for naught. The day it came back to me I ugly cried in the car and yelled at the man upstairs.
You’d think that’d be it right? I did what I could. I worked up the guts, put it all on paper, and it was “unforwardable”. *sigh*
I tossed that padded envelope into my backseat and looked for my way out of feeling like fear had bested me yet again, and made my timing crap.
By coincidence (or maybe not since everything is part of a bigger plan) I drove by his old job and saw his truck there. I called my number one advisor, bestie extraordinaire, and she told me I’d just have to march my butt in there with said returned package if I wanted to finish what I’d started. After all, she said, you had the guts to write it and send it. This is just more… in his face. Personal.
I’m not lying when I say my fingers and toes were all tingling from anxiety by the time I finally made myself do it. But I always forget… talking to him, seeing him, it’s like… being home. I’m not sure it could ever feel anything but right.
But I’m skipping the best part.
My gut, my deep down intuition, is usually SO right. I’d felt like there was likely a story and that he probably hadn’t just ghosted me for almost 3 months because he didn’t care, or I didn’t matter. He may be ghosting me now, but it would be for a very different reason. Again, I’m jumping ahead.
Yes, he’d had to move. His phone was shut off. He was, is, back at his old job, and I know from the look on his face that things have been hard. I just wanted to hug him till everything around us became fuzzy, out of focus, and unimportant.
But life isn’t a movie. It doesn’t go how you want. It’s not easy and painless and perfect. It’s hard, and messy, and complicated.
We probably talked for no more than 10-15 minutes but it felt like longer. I just wanted to stand there, and smell him, and hold him, forever.
The conversation doesn’t matter. The words spoken don’t matter. Just the time spent and the sparks that arced between us. I knew it would change once he had the chance to read my rambling profession of love. It was all I could do to just memorize his face. Just in case….
I will say that I gave him my number again, but have no real hope of hearing from him. It’s a giant leap from chemistry to love and one that most people don’t make without more time spent. I am not mad, or angry, or hurt. The purpose was never to convince him to love me back. It was just to give love to him. To make him feel… good. Full. Perfect, as he is, in someone else’s eyes. I think everyone should feel loved just as they are.
I know this sounds like feeding an ego. I don’t feel that way about it. I think love is a gift. You give it to people who need it. You share it, and lift others up. You speak it when it’s true. You express it in kindness, and… it’s never wrong. True love for your fellow man is just that. Love is pure. Love wins.
So, ok. Here we are. I’ve stepped off of the biggest cliff in a long time. It’s not likely end as I’d want. I have no regrets. I wouldn’t take any of it back.
I won’t pretend to know what he thinks or feels. I’ll possibly never know. Men struggle with expression of feelings and thoughts in the best of circumstances, and as mentioned, he’s nowhere near even semi ok circumstances. There’s a lot on his plate, and so many things in line ahead of trying to date anyone, let alone some random girl he’s known for a year, but only seen sporadically during that time. I’m lucky if he still considers me a friend.
I’m not making excuses for him. I don’t need to. He will do what’s best for him and I have no judgement. If I know anything, it’s that he will do what’s necessary for himself and his sweet baby boy, always. That’s as it should be.
I’m grateful. I’m such a different person after meeting him. There are things he said, and the way he made me feel… I’ll keep those always. Regardless of how it seems on the outside looking in… he was good for my heart.
I’ll keep him in my prayers, as always. God has plans for him. I can feel it.
My heart is glad I was brave. It’s full and beats like it’s never been broken.
Maybe, one day, later down the road, AZ and I will cross paths again. I can’t imagine ever feeling anything for him but love and knowing how things are with him, maybe he is my home. Or maybe he was just sent to remind me of how it feels with someone that you have real, pure chemistry/compatibility with.
Regardless, I’m so thankful I met him.