love is interesting. it's funny the semantics we can get caught up. once upon a time i was talking about re-establishing a relationship with someone i had dated in the past, then they had moved away and broken ties. we were going to be back in the same geogaphical area and there were still feelings there. for some reason, it was EXTREMELY important for me to not talk about the future too much because i was insistant that we take things one day at a time. i didn't want to mention "living together" or "marriage" or any of that stuff because i felt enough time had passed that we might've changed. sure, in general the feelings of love/lust were still there, but could we still sit in the same room for an hour or two together without irritating the hell out of one another? had sleeping habits changed? was there residual resentment from the way things had ended earlier? i just refused to make these statements about the future.
to her, this was bad. this was refusal to commit on my part. this was me being my normal, flakey self. sure, neither person was moving for the other, circumstances were bringing us close together, but there was still an emotional investment that she wasn't willing to make without something bigger from me. at that time we weren't thinking very clearly or logically and we couldn't expess things clearly enough for the other person to understand. we were just getting hurt and defensive and it turned into a huge, ugly mess. in hindsight, i can see what she meant very clearly. and when i sit and think about it and her, i know full well that she is/was a strong, independent girl. if we got together and it wasn't working, she'd have no problems telling me so and calling the relationship off. my stubborness was probably unfounded.
the flipside to that is so was hers. in the past i'd been been willing to drop everything and follow her when she moved across country. i'd proven committment there. i'd never cheated on her and i didn't take dating lightly and she knew that. considering that she was the one who'd had doubts before and called it off, she probably could've been a little more understanding about my cold feet and hesitation.
we were getting so hung up on words or lack-thereof. it didn't work out, and obviously that was for the best, if we couldn't communicate over something like that, and we'd had our shot once before and failed it, it probably wasn't meant to be. but in the heat of it, it was so painful and brutal to be arguing about something that seemed so simple. the "leap of logic" that neither one of us could help the other make. i couldn't get her to see that i wasn't saying i wasn't open to ideas of a long, happy future together, but that i just needed to take it slowly. that i wasn't playing games with her, and that i wanted something to work. she couldn't make me see that she just needed me to say some words to reduce her nervousness and that she wasn't going to hold me to them if we were both miserable.
law girl's blog has made me relive this series of events in my head. i'm not comparing my past to her current situation, or taking sides or anything. i'm not discussing her particular situation, i don't know enough about it and have only seen the one side. just saying that things that she has written about have triggered the memories.
which brings me back to the love being interesting thing. i've seen situations where someone can't come out and say the word. there's some traumatic issue in a past that prevents it. or they're stupid. or whatever. but their actions show the love and affection. which should be enough, but it isn't. that proclamation is needed. between couples. between parents and their kids. between siblings. between grown men and women on a battlefield. it's amazing the power that that word carries. not just the emotion. not just the actions that stem from those emotions or lackof. but the power the utterance of the word itself. remember the first time you said it to your one, true love? or heard them say it to you? weak in the knees, swoony elation. and how much you need to hear it from them in the tough times? you need that assurance that even though you're pissing each other off that you still love one another and you'll get through it? it's amazing the first time someone you really love dies. and you can't remember the last time you told them that you loved them. it changes the way you address the loved ones who are still living fast. you make sure to end every phone conversation with an "i love you", just so that they know.
damnit.
6 comments:
The first time the chef said it to me, I got slightly nauseated because it all seemed to be happening too fast, and it felt like the room was spinning. And i said it back, of course, and knew I felt it, but it felt so strange to be saying that at that particular time in my life, right after the divorce. He still tells me, at least a couple of times a day, that he loves me. And it always makes my heart feel like it's overflowing.
I don't know if it's a "Mars/Venus" thing, or if it is just the sociatal pressures which create such a different emotional need in men and women.
I find it interesting that you pose it as a communication issue though. I hadn't ever thought about it that way.
Very interesting. But you should take my side. I'm the woman. I'm right, damn it!
The first time my first boyfriend, Alpha, said that he loved me was over the phone. I was 15 and he was 16. It was Valentine's Day and I immediately burst into tears.
No one outside my family had ever told me that they loved me.
And the first time Loki said it to me was after a 24 hour improv fund raising event. I had dropped him off with his roommate and several people who were staying with them. One of them being a girl that he used to be interested and was still partly interested in.
From the steps and in front of everyone he told me that he loved me.
I looked at him wearily. He looked at me sleepily. I smiled and he smiled back.
And I knew that he meant it.
How ironic, Tiffanie just had a similar post in her blog.
The only guy who ever told me he loved me gave me HPV. After a week of sleeping together, he confessed he had HPV, cried, and told me he loved me. After wrestling his drunken ass away from the knives he wanted to use to cut himself, I bailed.
I can count the number of times my father has said it to me on one hand. Otherwise, friends and family say it frequently.
"I love you" can mean so many things...
I'm trying to be more specific these days because I want to be clear. "I care about you", "I need you", "You matter to me", "Your laugh makes me happy",
"You look so nice in that..."
It all means "I love you", but so does emptying the trash, and making coffee. Loving someone is an action- in both words and deeds.
We get lopsided when we do one or the other-
Good post Sean :)
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