A non-pattern. Healing involved.
So I finished Pearl Harbor last night. Apparently that movie goes on another six hours after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. I didn't know that. I never saw the true ending. Naturally, I was bawling and therefore in a morose yet speculative mood. And also nowhere near a creative outlet in order for me to write. And by "write," I mean "type."
So speculation occurred in regards to the significant relationships of my life. These are the top four in order of occurrence.
At the beginning, there was J. I was 17 and recklessly in love with him. There were no boundaries for our young, stupid minds. I gave him all of heart. I reserved none for myself to grow on in case we should fail at "us." I never fathomed failure for us. And yet fail is exactly what we did. The story I have is that his parents convinced him he was too young to be so serious. In hindsight, could very well be the case. I'm inclined to agree. I am worlds different from the 17-year-old version of myself. But at the same time, it was young, eaten-alive love that is incomparable to anything else I've ever known. I felt I would never get past losing him. And in ways, I suppose I never have. He took away from me the ability to love recklessly. To trust my heart to someone entirely without my supervision.
Then we come to C. Though I never fell in love with him, I loved him dearly and would have done just about anything for him. We were the best of friends we had at the time and were quite possibly together for all the wrong reasons: to not be alone being the main one. I'm not even quite sure how that ever really evolved into a relationship. We were insistent that we wouldn't be in one yet we were kind of into each other. I guess it did just that: evolved. And then it ended horribly. When you're with someone because you don't want to be alone, you get entwined in ways that make it difficult to detach from. So much so that no matter how it ends, it's like being ripped apart into a hundred pieces. Each piece ripped from you, more painful than the prior. Although I never felt as though he was irrevocably placed in my heart in the sense of a true love, he still had the ability to break me. He took away from me the ability to remain untouched and unchanged despite how guarded I kept my heart.
Along came H. We were friends for years before anything close to falling in love came about. There was a random spark. And a long wait. But he eventually came to visit L.A. We told each other we'd see how it goes, no expectations. From the moment we met at the airport to falling asleep that night, we talked and talked. I felt instantly attached but not necessarily instantly in love. He grew on me throughout that visit and it wasn't until I saw him break down at the airport before leaving that I realized how big of a thing this could be. I was so hesitant about falling in love that it was like I had to see him fall first before I would consider it. And fall I did. Slowly but surely. When you're half a world away from someone 95% of the year, you get to know them a lot better than probably most people know their significant others. And when we were together, in Long Beach, Helsinki, Evansville and numerous other places, our vacations were more like honeymoons. That ended very slowly. I could see us growing apart and wanted to talk so many times about whether or not we should go our separate ways. I was told over and over that he was just busy, it wasn't that. I, the girl, was offering to call a truce and separate and that was still to much for him, the boy, to take? That's one hell of an offer in modern relationships if you ask me. Though, since H, I've found that modern dating consists of women wearing the pants and men being too much. I digress. I did not throw my heart at H recklessly nor did I keep it completely from him. I let him have me entirely as though it slipped to him accidentally through a leaky crack. It took time and involved some hesitation but more than anything, it happened almost without my knowing it. He took from me the ability to trust my heart to know what it's doing on its own.
Then we're at B. Currently residing in my heart. Because this is still a work in progress, there's not much I want to say about it. Well, I want to but I shouldn't. Though he hasn't taken anything from me, and I hope it stays that way. I am finding that I am loving him differently than the prior three. History has yet to repeat itself despite my desperate on-the-spot meltdowns in failed dating scenarios that all I am is a dating disaster. I may be a dating disaster but when it comes to falling in love, I seem to be learning my lesson. I am cautious. Yet enamored. I am willing to trust him with my heart should he seek the desire to hold it. The difference in this, for me, is that I feel as though I have control over where I am and where my heart is going. If I give myself to this guy, it will be because we mutually traded ourselves with each other. It feels sort of business-like to speak of it but it certainly doesn't feel that way experiencing it. It feels more like two burned, skittish adults cautiously seeking solace that maybe, just maybe, this time the risk may be worth the taking.
Maybe.
So speculation occurred in regards to the significant relationships of my life. These are the top four in order of occurrence.
At the beginning, there was J. I was 17 and recklessly in love with him. There were no boundaries for our young, stupid minds. I gave him all of heart. I reserved none for myself to grow on in case we should fail at "us." I never fathomed failure for us. And yet fail is exactly what we did. The story I have is that his parents convinced him he was too young to be so serious. In hindsight, could very well be the case. I'm inclined to agree. I am worlds different from the 17-year-old version of myself. But at the same time, it was young, eaten-alive love that is incomparable to anything else I've ever known. I felt I would never get past losing him. And in ways, I suppose I never have. He took away from me the ability to love recklessly. To trust my heart to someone entirely without my supervision.
Then we come to C. Though I never fell in love with him, I loved him dearly and would have done just about anything for him. We were the best of friends we had at the time and were quite possibly together for all the wrong reasons: to not be alone being the main one. I'm not even quite sure how that ever really evolved into a relationship. We were insistent that we wouldn't be in one yet we were kind of into each other. I guess it did just that: evolved. And then it ended horribly. When you're with someone because you don't want to be alone, you get entwined in ways that make it difficult to detach from. So much so that no matter how it ends, it's like being ripped apart into a hundred pieces. Each piece ripped from you, more painful than the prior. Although I never felt as though he was irrevocably placed in my heart in the sense of a true love, he still had the ability to break me. He took away from me the ability to remain untouched and unchanged despite how guarded I kept my heart.
Along came H. We were friends for years before anything close to falling in love came about. There was a random spark. And a long wait. But he eventually came to visit L.A. We told each other we'd see how it goes, no expectations. From the moment we met at the airport to falling asleep that night, we talked and talked. I felt instantly attached but not necessarily instantly in love. He grew on me throughout that visit and it wasn't until I saw him break down at the airport before leaving that I realized how big of a thing this could be. I was so hesitant about falling in love that it was like I had to see him fall first before I would consider it. And fall I did. Slowly but surely. When you're half a world away from someone 95% of the year, you get to know them a lot better than probably most people know their significant others. And when we were together, in Long Beach, Helsinki, Evansville and numerous other places, our vacations were more like honeymoons. That ended very slowly. I could see us growing apart and wanted to talk so many times about whether or not we should go our separate ways. I was told over and over that he was just busy, it wasn't that. I, the girl, was offering to call a truce and separate and that was still to much for him, the boy, to take? That's one hell of an offer in modern relationships if you ask me. Though, since H, I've found that modern dating consists of women wearing the pants and men being too much. I digress. I did not throw my heart at H recklessly nor did I keep it completely from him. I let him have me entirely as though it slipped to him accidentally through a leaky crack. It took time and involved some hesitation but more than anything, it happened almost without my knowing it. He took from me the ability to trust my heart to know what it's doing on its own.
Then we're at B. Currently residing in my heart. Because this is still a work in progress, there's not much I want to say about it. Well, I want to but I shouldn't. Though he hasn't taken anything from me, and I hope it stays that way. I am finding that I am loving him differently than the prior three. History has yet to repeat itself despite my desperate on-the-spot meltdowns in failed dating scenarios that all I am is a dating disaster. I may be a dating disaster but when it comes to falling in love, I seem to be learning my lesson. I am cautious. Yet enamored. I am willing to trust him with my heart should he seek the desire to hold it. The difference in this, for me, is that I feel as though I have control over where I am and where my heart is going. If I give myself to this guy, it will be because we mutually traded ourselves with each other. It feels sort of business-like to speak of it but it certainly doesn't feel that way experiencing it. It feels more like two burned, skittish adults cautiously seeking solace that maybe, just maybe, this time the risk may be worth the taking.
Maybe.