I am fighting this with all I've got. I'm fighting for it and against it. I'm just fighting. He is kind, he is nurturing, he is not perfect. And neither am I. And so am I. I am hurt and confused, I am comforted and happy. They all happen at the same time and it's hard to distinguish which to address first. I've had a lot of years to decide what I needed. I watched and listened to my friend's relationships coil and bloom. I watched tears stream down their cheeks. On those same cheeks, I've seen a hint of blush appear married to a smile over a text message. Why is it, that when I realized I had hurt his feelings, that is when I knew I liked him. We are such strange creatures. I liked him before the hurt feelings, but only when I knew I wanted to make them feel better, did I want to throw away all my armor and stop fighting. I wanted in.
He fed me his skillfully made (over buttered (to perfection)) sauteed mushrooms while I shopped for a toaster for my mom. I should have bought it, but decided to wait to payday. We waited for the pizza to finish cooking before we watched America's Next Top Model and drank some delicious Pinot. He went outside to smoke and I was insecure that he was talking to a girl. Where did that come from? My brain. My amazingly creative, over-thinking, error on the side of overreacting, contradictory stubborn brain. I jumped up to blog about it - but I stopped. Too soon. When he entered I asked him who he was talking to - his friend Jay, of course. I am lame. I am just not apart of that world....yet. I wasn't sure if I could be. Not because I wasn't invited, but because of my "standards". My standards of who I think I should be and who I certainly shouldn't be. Those are fighting words. It's hard to change, ya? So here I am.
We finished the night cuddled on the sofa and then said goodnight to the downstairs and retired to the bedroom. A perfect ending, almost. Until I decided that I just had to say it like it was. I had to express myself over something I had been thinking about and pretty much just force my thoughts and opinions all over him. I've had a lot of practice telling it like it is, from Kyla's perspective. (And yes I just referred to myself in third person). It all just balls up. There is a lot of getting to know someone in the beginning....I mean there is a lot to collect, sort, fold, iron, starch, air dry, gentle cycle, delicates. And who likes laundry? I'm sitting in a pile of it right now as I write, literally and metaphorically, of course. And he just took it. And I fell sleep. And he didn't.
I woke up blissful, having said my piece. And he...left. Well, he went to work. Ya, this whole Princess complex is gonna have to go. If I want him. And I do. I could tell something was wrong when he left. I texted him to see if he was alright. "I'm fine" was his response. If you are a human being, you know what that means : "I'm not fine". Next post on facebook from him - I need more sleep. I text...sorry you didn't sleep well, want me to bring some coffee on my way home. He replies "we have coffee here" aka "please don't talk to me".
I had to call in reinforcements. A pep talk from my older sister and another quick 45 minute conversation with my best, no bullshit friend and I was thoroughly versed in just how ridiculous I had been and if I had any hope of finding a life preserver I was going to have to humbly ask for one. Something something, I'm sorry. And just like that, I knew. I knew how much he meant to me. All of him. And that I was willing to get over myself a little bit (it's a slow process) to be almost as good as he is to me. He deserves it. And so do I.
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