God, do I have bad luck in love.
No, I haven’t been cheated on and fucked around a million times like other girls. I have high self-esteem, a good body-image, a high IQ and a wicked sense of humor. I know my own worth.
I’ve always made sensible choices, cautious decisions. I’ve been deliberate, level-headed and smart about 90% of the things that I do.
Until you came along, you wonderful, terrifying, frustrating, amazing man.
You were my first bad decision. You loved me first, I knew that and you knew that. I didn’t love you at first. I wouldn’t let myself. You were younger than me, frustratingly idealistic and unwilling to see the darkness and difficulty in the world. I told you it would never work. I told you we would tear one another to pieces in the end.
You shrugged and told me it was worth the risk, because you loved me.
So I gave it a try. I gave you a chance, because there was something under the caution and the fear in me that wanted it. Wanted to take the risk, throw the statistics out the window. I told myself your youthful fancy would pass at some point, and you would realize you didn’t love me, we would separate without blame and go our own ways.
But that wasn’t what happened, was it? It still makes me grin, thinking about the moment I realized that you’d somehow lifted the corner of the armor around my heart and tucked yourself up under it, so no matter how sensibly I told myself our relationship would end someday I still couldn’t pry you out of there.
I was in love with you.
The damnedest thing is, even after five years, multiple separations and fights over idiotic things, I’m STILL in love with you. It seems like there’s a rubber-band tied around us, so that the further we get from one another, the harder we snap back together when we can’t resist it anymore. It’s magnetic. It’s gravity. It’s irresistible.
And the funniest part of all of this? Through every disagreement, every night on the phone until five in the morning just listening to each other breathe, every single recrimination from family and friends about how I should move on for my own good?
I rationalized us. I’m a rational person, a logical person by nature. And my logic has finally got it’s claws into this relationship of ours, and extracted a satisfactory answer.
I love you, and you love me. And that’s all there is. Maybe we’ll drift apart someday and go our own ways. Maybe you’ll hie off with some tramp and break my heart. Hell, maybe I’LL hie off with some tramp and break YOUR heart. The point is, I love you, you love me, and we’re both trying our hardest. You make me laugh, you make me think, and I haven’t got any secrets left to tell you. You know everything about me. And you’re willing to learn more when I change.
So we’re in love. I can imagine the frown on your face if you were to read this, looking at me all puzzled, trying to understand what I’m saying because I over-complicate everything. Peering at me over the top of your glasses like I’m a crossword or something.
It’s simple, baby. So simple. I’ve figured it out.
I love you. You love me. That’s all there is to it. I can see your face scrunched up now, doing your best Johnny Depp impression. “You buy the ticket, you take the ride.” You love that movie. So there it is. I love you.
Remarkably simple, isn’t it?