Before I untangle this connection any further, I have
to say, I chose this. I went all in on The Shy One because, well, I’m not sure
I have other settings. But I knew he didn’t want the same kind of relationship
I wanted, and I chose him anyway. Partly because love, but partly because I don’t
feel worthy of what I want. It seemed easier and more fun to try to fit into his
limited vision for us than to keep looking for the kitchen table or otherwise
more available guy/constellation that I wanted. Sorry, me!
And while I’m fumbling through the push-pull cycle of
neediness/withholding/being marooned on weeknights, it’s important to acknowledge
that there was a three-day trip coming up for us, mid-February. I can’t fully
explain why that wasn’t factoring into my heart’s schedule math. I really,
REALLY wish I could have made it to Friday the 17th.
Anyway, a week before the actual breakup, after I
admitted that the texts were carrying too much weight because I missed him ALL
the time, because I wanted more intimacy and more groundedness to our
connection, he suggested daily calls. (I remember in the beginning, he was
always telling me I could call whenever I wanted, but that never felt like the
right thing to do for whatever reasons.)
So we picked a time that worked for both of our work
days (This daytime stuff has a mistress vibe to me, but I don’t think it would’ve
if our hearts were aligned.) and had nice calls for a few days. I liked having
a little more of his ordinary dailiness in my ears, but I also resented the impingement
on my work/art/whatever during the day.
But it was lovely, those little chances to know him a
little more. Until Thursday before last. My small-talk go-to, what are you
making for supper?
Thursday was Chinese food night, it turns out, so I
was like, “Oh yay! Send me a fortune!”
“Nah. That’s (Younger Daughter)’s thing. I wouldn’t
want to mess with that.”
She likes to smash the fortune cookies when they come,
a precious tradition for sure, and one I would never have asked to be present
for. But would really have liked to be present for, I guess it’s okay to admit.
A fortune cookie slip is so small. Grab it after
dinner when you’re clearing the plates, snap a pic, easy-peasy!
I didn’t say that of course, I just made agreeable
noises and let the subject move on to other things. Like I did after so many
little rejections like that.
I couldn’t and can’t fathom how I could have “messed
with” his daughter’s tradition by wanting a picture of a fortune cookie slip,
but that’s how it felt to him. I guess, like the me world and the family world
would have come too close, the fortune cookie slip turning into a vortex and
then a black hole that would destroy both worlds somehow. He was having a protective
instinct, I don’t think it was intentionally cruel or phobic, but just whoa.
Not this.
Aside from the closetedness, his conservative
background, and general resistance to change, I can see how being in a
relationship with someone who wants more could feel claustrophobic, even
threatening. I can empathize with the pressure there, I felt it too, from the
other side. A mismatch feels oppressive no matter what anyone tries, that’s why
there’s breakups!
But being seen as a threat to children. That’s just
something you just have to live with, as a queer educator, as a queer ANYTHING.
I’ve lived my whole adult life with the societal idea that I might be a “groomer”—it
was there the whole time, even before the DeSantises of the world decided to
make the implicit prejudice more explicit.
I know that it’s partly his own shame, his own
dissatisfaction with his own poly situation that made that cookie slip vortex such
a real fear. I’m just really, really sorry to have put my poor heart in the way
of that shame and fear, especially since I saw it coming. So I’m writing myself
a little apology.
Dear Self,
Yes, I knew better, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t listen
to what you really wanted, that I tried to make you settle for so much less.
In fairness though, we also deserved the pleasure and
happiness he WAS able to give! There’s no reason to feel ashamed of all that! It
was real.
Self, I’m going to try to hear you. You want someone
you might see on Christmas Day, even though the 20th was lovely. You
want someone who will share his life, organically and at a pace something other
than glacial. You want to take your time and date whatever number of people
feels right. You want to feel like a gift, not a duty or a burden. You want to
bloom and vine and grow love all over the place. You want to have bad days or
panics or sad moments without feeling like an annoying todo list item.
Self, you’re a morning glory, not a bonsai, not a
cactus, not a pruned miniature rose. You want to love big. You’re already doing
it. Go ahead.
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