You have never been good with words. You would sit not look at me but patiently listen to a million stories that I keep on telling you over and over. It would seem like you are uninterested but you know all the details. Though sometimes I think you just sit there and watch me talk but not a single word registers in. I guess we all have days like that- you’re there but not really there.
You were always good at telling the things I want to hear. Men are gifted with this. It’s not lying, just leaving out details that would put them on thin ice. And after almost three decades, I appreciate the beauty of it. I wish women didn’t have the gift of smelling bullshit from 4000 miles away and female instincts or more commonly known to men as “jumping into conclusions” or “accusing us of something we didn’t do (ok, not all of it but to some extent we did)” was a little more subtle. I wish we had that “thinking literally about nothing” part of our brains.
You were not always public about our relationship. I ask you why and it’s always about keeping it private. But God knows what you tell to your guys. I’m okay with that and I think I deserve whatever you tell them. I mean, bad publicity is still publicity.
But after all the second-guessing, red flags, white lies and photos not uploaded, you still want to see my happiness above yours. You stayed despite drowning in a mix of quicksand and saltwater. If I’m not the pessimist that I am, I would say it’s impressive and outstanding effort.
It has been a hobby to re-read text messages and look at a hundred unposted photos in my phone. A few months back I was the one chasing, wanting you to look at me the same way I am looking at you. Now it’s easy to spot who has heart emojis in the eye. I don’t know how the tables got turned but I am surprised by the number of unspoken proofs I have.
Maybe I just want you to be more open, vocal, tell-to-the-world-I-am-inlove type of guy but you’re simply not like that. I can tell you have fallen deeply by the way you look at me and how you hold my back. I guess our ways of loving someone matures and comes with age. I can’t blame you though, you have so much years ahead of you.
Don’t get me wrong or say I am being double standard. I’m caught between choosing to wait for someone to be on the same maturity level and being a woman whose baby-making potential is dropping every second as I write about the guy paving his way into discovering how a
relationship mature relationship works.
I can wait but I can also choose to go. I can go but I don’t want to lose something real. I learned that it’s not the opportunities you lose but choices you did not make that actually kills you late at night. And with that I am going to sleep this off and see another proof of this love and second-guess everything since apparently that’s the only thing I am good at.