what matters and why

reflection

10/14/01
12:15am

The thing about that one night was not what happened during the evening, but the small gesture and that you expressed appreciation for that is something I won’t forget. It’s funny how we always recall the little things, and they are significant in our minds. A certain look or a feeling that won’t go away. We don’t say, “I love you” very often anymore. And when he does, it’s something special. When he says that he means it and the good feeling stays with me if only for a few minutes. The first time we kissed wasn’t that memorable, just something you’re supposed to do on a first date. And the fact that I didn’t even do it right makes it a moment I don’t want to remember. There was this one time, though, when we were making out on a couch and when he got up, for the first time I noticed how muscular his body was, how his shoulders were so cut in just the right places. And how he was so careful that night, so cautious with me, unsure of how I would react. I would always watch his mouth, and love the shape of his upper lip. It’s not things that you would expect, and who would have guessed things would turn out this way? I remember one night after we’d been together so long, and I was ready to move on, or at least for a break. I wanted to feel like my own person for a while. I remember the smell of cigarettes and marijuana on him and I remember how repulsed I was by that smell, and ridiculously, I remember thinking that it made it a little easier to make that break. I remember how a night of drinking would cause him to confess his love to me over and over again. And how I didn’t want that. I wanted him to be less emotional and more aloof. I wanted less availability, and to have to question his desire for me. I would purposely do things that would make him angry and jealous, wondering how much he would take. How much would he put up with before he got fed up and left? And I wanted him to be the one to say he was done with me. That never happened and five years later I am so glad for that. What I wanted at the time was something that would have backfired on me. Marriage for him has turned him into a person I look up to and admire. Someone who doesn’t admit his feelings so easily anymore. Someone who has a completely different life than the one we share. And I like it that there’s a side of him I may not ever see. It’s someone I never thought he would be. It makes me want him more. Not in a suspicious way, since he’s never given me reason for distrust. The funny thing about that though is I don’t know how I would deal with any kind of suspicion at all since I’ve never had that experience. So many of my friends have been in relationships where that happened, but I don’t feel I’ve ever been treated badly or taken advantage of. And I don’t know that I would be angered by any kind of suspicion or if I would react at all. Sometimes I wonder if he would want me to lean more that way, but it’s just not my personality. There was that one time, so long ago, and you even cried when I knew. And I just sat there and looked at you. I was a strange sort of mind because I wanted to laugh. Maybe I wanted to laugh so you wouldn’t see me cry. It was like a dream and your tears weren’t real. Ironic, since we would laugh about it later. You were so unpredictable then. My life now is not that at all. It’s all I ever really wanted though. People want to travel, to experience the world before making a commitment and I don’t ever remember feeling that way. It’s not who I thought it would be, but it works. Just the way I planned it at thirteen years old minus a few details and five years sooner. And then I wonder if it would work if it were what I’d expected. Maybe no one’s life is supposed to go in the exact order that they planned it. A few unexpected surprises and for a while you’re thrown for a loop, pick yourself back up, and everything is better than what it was before. I watch my friend, and I examine her relationship and I’m amazed at those similarities. It makes me rethink every daydream I’ve ever had. When she blames his inadequacies on other things, I wonder if I would have turned into a weak person like her. Would I have been an accomplice to selfishness and lack of ambition? Could I have lived with myself and would that have ever worked. In some ways I’m the same person but in so many others I’ve changed so drastically. I don’t want what I wanted back then. She confides in me when he expresses feelings of resentment toward her, and then blames her mother in law. I don’t think he was prepared when he made a commitment and now has regrets and she is the one who suffers. And I see you in him. The fear of commitment, needing to be the center of attention, and a simple home life not being enough. And the boldness and that no fear kind of attitude. It’s a no win situation for her, and I feel badly. She’s not going anywhere though. If anyone it will be him. And even then she will still defend him to the very end and he will not appreciate it. When I tried to explain, you didn’t want to hear it. “What the f***?” I heard you say. That word echoed in my ears over and over again, since I rarely hear it anymore. And I was so scared. I don’t want to be that type of person anymore. But so often I relive that time and can’t help but to wonder what if. I have discovered though the more I move on and concentrate on trivial things going on in my life, the less I remember about that. And eventually it will become only a small fragment of my mind and maybe I’ll never have to deal with it again.

Even as a child, I wonder what kind of person I was attempting to be. I always assumed that I was a selfless person since I was always there for my friends, but I look back now and realize differently. I recall early one morning, hoisting myself up into the window after a long night out, and seeing her face there, staring at me over the blanket, which covered her from the draft of the open window. And then blaming my inadequacies on her. And I thought that since I was somewhat decent outwardly, I could be considered moral. Most of the time when I think about my past I wish that I could do it over again, and do it right. Concentrate on the things that would get me further in life, as opposed to striving for immediate satisfaction. I wish I could have seen that then. Maybe growing up would have hurt a little bit less. If I had opened my mind a little more, would I have made fewer mistakes? On the other hand, had I not made those mistakes I may not be where I am now. It’s hard to go back and analyze myself. I want to change who I was, but who I was got me where I am. And though I know I still have so much more to learn, I’m happy in this place. I remember wishing that my parents were divorced, or less involved so I could get away with more, or have more freedom. The funny thing is, I had all the freedom I wanted. I had no responsibility. I was taken care of. I wonder if sometimes she’s still mad. Occasionally when we talk, her tone of voice is questionable for no reason. I sense disapproval with whatever we’re talking about. I wonder if she can still see that person in me. I feel like she thinks I should be doing more than I am. Like I should be trying harder to be a good person, and reflect that image on my son. I withhold from her frequently since I know what her reaction may be. Not dramatic, like his mother, but quiet disapproval. And I want to know what she sees that I don’t. I have to remind myself of her past and much more drastic her decisions were. The other day someone asked me a question, and I didn’t hear it initially. It took me a minute to answer because of my distraction and I realized that was a quality in my mother that I despised growing up. More and more each day I see her in me, and it’s not always bad. But I hope that I can be open and expressive toward my children, rather than closed off. I still want to be comfortable hugging them when they’re sixteen. I want to be able to say I love you whenever I want.