Has it really been almost a month? Eesh. Apologies to the internet, I've had my hands full for the past several weeks, and I must confess to bumping this little exercise down the priority list more than a few times. Anyway, with so much time gone by, there's been plenty of topics worth writing about, so bear with me as I attempt to choose one.
Since I'm sitting here today, home sick while the Remix and her brothers splash in the wave pool at a nearby water park, I'm more than a little miserable. I woke up with a brutal headache, the kind where even a tilt of the head makes you break out in a cold sweat and waves of nausea accompany every attempt to actually walk. Lovely, right. All this when I could be zipping down water slides with a beautiful woman. Plus, I ended up on the phone half the morning trying to fix something for work. Awesome.
Regardless of my current negative disposition, the Remix and I had an interesting conversation last night, and since she hasn't had an opportunity to write about it, I'm totally beating her to the punch. The topic: Exhaustion Theory--the idea that you can wear yourself out in a relationship by giving it too much. Tangental topic: if you're worried that giving too much to the relationship is going to make it worse, is the relationship that good to begin with?
This was an easy one for me. I'm a gambler at heart--if it's worth betting on, bet as much as you can and cross your fingers. This relationship is worth betting on. I'm not going to sit back, trying to protect myself when I could be enjoying the hell out of it just by letting go. This is an easier idea to come to terms with for me than her, possibly because last time she let go I let her down. Either way, I'm determined that whatever happens with this thing, if it goes bad it's not going to be because I was trying to keep something back. If we give it everything we've got, and it sours at some point down the road, at least we know we tried--and at least the time we've got together will be maximized. If I didn't think she was worth it, I would find someone else to occupy my time. I'm sure there's plenty of reasonably nice girls out there who I don't have an eight year history with. That's not what I want, though. I want this one, with all the possibility for heartbreak, with all the navel-gazing overanalysis, with all the tiptoeing around, trying not to hurt anyone's feelings.
Case in point. A couple of nights ago, she offered her time, to come over and spend the night, and I said no. It was an overthought no, with lots of unnecessary discussion. It was hurtful, thought not because of anything I did--for once I've stumbled on a sore spot that I didn't completely cause in the first place. On my end, it was simple. I was tired, I'd been busy and anticipated being busy the rest of the week, and although I desperately wanted to see her again, I knew that by Sunday morning I'd wake up exhausted and wonder where my week went. In retrospect, it may even have been a mistake, on my part--I'm rarely as relaxed as when she's around, and I sleep better even though my first hour and a half in bed is filled with a lot more activity than when I'm alone. The important thing, the thing I realized as we were hashing out some of the hurt feelings on the phone, was that my purposeful self-defense mechanisms of a month or two ago were coming back to bite me.
Early on, I made a point of telling her that I was not going to be constantly available, that I needed my "personal time," that I was eventually going to have to say no. At the time, I was thinking that I needed to make sure I had some boundaries, that she didn't think I was desperate or lonely, that I wasn't going to be here at her convenience. When she proved to have grown up considerably over the past five years, I immediately forgot it. I don't need to defend my time from her anymore, for one, I appreciate the time we spend together much more, and two, she respects my space naturally, without me having to do anything. Problem is, she didn't know. She didn't know that I didn't mean it to begin with, and she certainly didn't know that I wasn't worried anymore.
This is the problem with trying to protect yourself too much. Without even thinking about it, you're always hedging your bets. I spent so much time, telling her I didn't ever want to get married again, that I didn't want a serious girlfriend, that I was too busy to dedicate much time to someone--and all because I didn't want it to hurt. I didn't want her to know how much I wanted to see her, because then she could withhold herself and I'd be hurt. I didn't want her to know that I do want to get married again, someday have a family, because I didn't want her to be freaked out, because I bought into all of her hedging about it. We're not 18 anymore.
I'm not trying not to be hurt anymore. In a relationship like this, self-protection can only come at an opportunity cost to the other person. No more hedging. I've never said it on here, in so many words, though she's heard it over and over again, and probably felt it long before. I've fallen in love with her, all over again. And I'm not afraid.
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