So I was sitting at the dinner table and eating my chicken breast, cucumber, carrots, apple, blueberries, and hard-boiled eggs and wondering why the heck that stuff tastes so dang good to me. Then, I ate a couple bites of leftover cheesecake from the cheesecake factory and wondered what the heck I was doing eating something with that much saturated fat. Then, I wondered why I even cared to begin with. Then, I remembered my abs. Then, I wondered why it mattered. Then, I thought of him. Then, I wondered why I cared so much. "I just want to get married and have kids like everyone else in my family," he told me. It's honorable. Will he succeed?
Dammit! You get a play by play:
"Si, me gusta mi hombre de (mi estado)..." he just texted me.
Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. I can't stop being in freaking love. This is retarded. This is seriously the most ridiculous thing I've ever dealt with in my life.
I kind of pride myself in being the sensible one in my family. I'm usually the one that pulls everyone together and hashes out some kind of plan or talks sense into people or whatever. I think being rational is respectable and preferable to the rash decisions that one would otherwise make. And then it goes away.
I rationalize it. He doesn't like you. You can't do this. He doesn't want you. He wants a family. You don't even know if this is what you want. You have to move on and let it go. Ok, I can do this. I can let it go.
BAM. "I like you." How the hell am I ever supposed to come to grips with this? I love this guy. I do. I do.
Dang it, buddy. I want you to be happy. I saved the e-mails you sent me, and I read through them last night. I realized that I started to fall for you even before I met you. How did I kid myself into thinking that I was wanting something platonic by that first time we met? I tried hard to convince myself that there was nothing between us, that you had no interest in me. But you broke me down. You broke down those defenses I had built up... the ones that kept me from connecting with people past a certain point. It made me vulnerable. It forced me to face things.
My dad was always critical of me. He always said things. I felt so crappy. I felt like I could never be good enough. I always wished he'd hit me more and say stuff less. I could write the physical stuff off as wrong. But the verbal stuff-- I couldn't tell how much of it was true... either way, I believed it. I've forgiven him, but I still deal with the consequences.
So here I am, completely terrified that I'm putting myself out there for someone who doesn't feel the same way... for someone who only sees the things that are wrong with me when he's around me... for someone who only remembers that things that are wrong with me when he's away from me. And this guy-- he pulls through. He keeps pulling through for me. And it's weird because I believe him. The only other guy's opinion that I've taken into account so heavily in my life is my dad's, and he hurt me so much that I expected it from this guy. Thats why I put up the walls. How did he break them down? He cared. He kept caring.
You make me happy, buddy. Not the temporary kind. You make me smile during accounting tests. You make me daydream my way through 8 to 12 miles of running and 18 hours of driving. You make me get up in the morning and do something with myself, with my day. You negate the things I grew to believe about myself. You make me believe that I can have a happy life because my life is happy with you in it. I hope you stay. I shouldn't, but I do.
This wasn't what I had planned to tell you about. This blogging is getting out of hand. And you never, ever have permission to mention my childhood to me. I've dealt with what I can remember and let go of the things that I blocked. I don't want to talk anymore about it.
I'm in love. This guy. My guy. How is this going to turn out, buddy?
No comments:
Post a Comment