Expectations of what the other person should say or do or how much time they should devote to us.
People constantly compare their current lover to their past and have their list of what they will put up with and what they won't.
People play games and they don't want to appear too eager or too interested, too available or too needy.
And I guess I'm really lucky because my love died.
He died, he wanted nothing more to do with me, blocked and banished me.
And then miraculously, one unexpected night, one particularly sad and lonesome night, he rose from the dead.
I speak figuratively, no one actually died.
But it felt like he did.
It felt like this permanent end.
And then my phone rang.
My phone rang and he asked if I was okay and I said no and I asked if he was okay and he said no.
And with that one word I felt somehow less alone.
Don't misunderstand, we're not dating.
I've accepted we never will.
But that's not the point.
A Facebook relationship status is not the fucking point.
The point is he reached out and I saw him.
He reached out and he was happy to see me, he wanted to see me.
After everything.
He was happy to see me and we danced in the kitchen and he downloaded Empire Records because I wanted to watch it and he read to me from his favorite book and he didn't hate me.
He doesn't hate me.
I really truly thought he did.
I thought I would never see him, never hear from him, never look into those dark, intense eyes again.
Never ever respect my boundaries for once ever.
But I did.
No one believed I would and I did.
I told myself I meant nothing to him and I fell asleep and he called.
He called and I'm happy.
I don't know when I'll hear from him again but I don't need to because he's alive and I'm alive and I know how important I am to him now and you don't actually have to see or hear from someone all the time to know they are always thinking of you, do you?
I'm lucky because I now know who his favorite modern author is and that he can eat an omelette in three and a half minutes and that if you mix lime juice with coffee flavored rum it tastes like lime coffee and it's awful but it was fun to watch him make it because I never thought I'd watch him make a cocktail again.
I'm lucky because I watched his favorite cartoon from when he was a kid and he told me he thinks of me as his friend and he kissed me on the nose and he showed me where the fuck to put my arm when I'm the big spoon because it's been so many years since I've really snuggled with anyone I genuinely had to ask for guidance.
I'm lucky because he called me later just to say I took really good care of him and he's thankful and our last moment together was blissful.
Blissful.
Because of me.
His last memory of me is blissful.
Can you imagine anything so wonderful?
And maybe I should, maybe I should want monumental things and have expectations because I deserve the moon and I should expect him to lasso it down for me, (and I know he hasn't seen 'It's a Wonderful Life' so he has no fucking clue what I'm talking about) but you see I'm lucky.
I'm lucky because I don't need anything more and I'm not hoping for anything more because I lost everything and it was like he had disappeared and I had nothing.
And it broke me.
And now, now I have all these moments.
All these unexpected moments I never imagined might still exist, moments where he thinks I drink like a bird and accidentally says I love you, which we both ignored, moments where he says no one has breasts like me and I've an ass he could never forget, and later kisses me so tenderly on the forehead, moments he shares he'd like to take me hiking to Angel's rest because it's his favorite view of the gorge and would I want to go sometime?
And fuck, I don't even need to go.
He wants me there.
Do you understand?
Do you understand how much it fucking means that he wants me there?
He broke my fucking heart, shattered into a million numb pieces, numb to the point I had to go to the doctor for help because my mind just stopped.
Indifferent. Lifeless.
The happy fled my heart.
I lost my trust, my trust in myself.
Because I'd been so wrong, so wretchedly, monumentally wrong how could I possibly believe anything I felt?
But then he called.
And I'm lucky because I don't need anything more from him, I've already held it lovingly in my open hands, these moments where tears welled up in my eyes until I had to run into the other room to where he was just to throw my arms around his waist and hug him and he asked me How is it? as though the quality of breakfast even fucking mattered and I looked at him with water brimming in my eyes because he'd wanted to surprise me with breakfast in bed while I was sleeping and eating that first bite tasted like so much love and I smiled up at him and said It's perfect and it's enough.
It's all so overwhelmingly, intensely enough.
Have you ever known anyone, ever loved anyone so entirely, that after one interaction felt your heart joyfully cry, this is enough?
It's so overwhelmingly full, full of moments that are now yours forever and it's so much greater than you ever thought he would show you.
And in that moment you knew you could trust your heart once again.
Because you do matter.
You actually mean the world to him.
My heart has healed, there are cracks but it is now covered over with patches, patches that sing to and snuggle the wounds that will always be a part of me.
A part of my story.
Our story.
A story that rose from its own death on the eve I had given up entirely.
And no one will truly understand, he doesn't even understand, but I do, I know, I understand and I'm happy.
I'm so happy.
I feel like myself again and I'm happy.
I'm happy and he was a part of it.
He was a part of my joy returning, the color exploding, grinning at blue skies and starry nights all over again.
Staying up nights and then mornings, simply to talk, to share secrets, to hear his voice read me another story, the story he recommends but says no one ever reads.
But I will, I will read it, alone in my room I'll read it, I'll think of the timbre of his voice when I read it, and one day, perhaps one day I'll even tell him about it.
Perhaps one day he'll understand, understand this love, this surprising, enduring, unconditional love and why it continues to breathe life into both of us, in spite of us, because of us.
Because it just simply is.
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