Flight of fancy

“You and I are like that red wall.” – Carrie Bradshaw, Sex & the City

Apparently guys ‘dig it’ when girls think of them this way, and actually say it. Whoever these girls were, they were extremely fortunate to have men who didn’t run in the opposite direction when they told them how they felt. But to be fair, the author of this post is already in a relationship which gives her the freedom to tell the whole world she’s madly in love.

Over the years, I’ve been told that I keep too much to myself, which gives people the impression of, as Scarlett O’Hara put it so well, a “silly little fool who can’t open her mouth except for ‘yes’ and ‘no’ and raise a passel of mealy-mouthed brats just like her.” As I grew older, I tried to open up more, but still with great difficulty, and eventually managed to get to a stage where, after many moments of freezing up and deep breathing and screaming to myself to calm down, I would bring on the word vomit. But somehow, whether immediately or weeks or months later, it would backfire on me, and after each time it happened I swore I would never take that risk again.

I do agree that when it comes to matters of the heart, some things are really best put out on the table, because even if we’re terrified of the consequences, we will never know what lies on the other side until we actually step over the line. But if telling him I was in love with him was just the tip of the iceberg which made everything fall spectacularly apart, is it any wonder I never told him the rest?

How could I tell him that I don’t know why or when or how I fell in love with him, but only that he had made me happier than I’d been in a long time? How could I tell him that of all the men I’d ever known, he was the only one who had ever come close to breaking me in ways I had refused to break before? How could I tell him that I was grateful to him for bringing back that feeling of hope I’d lost so long ago? Not the hope for anything to come out of what we had then, but that no matter how difficult things were, with enough hope and faith in ourselves and in God’s grace, everything would eventually be all right. How could I tell him that everytime he laughed at my silliness it made me feel warm, or that everytime he looked me in the eyes it shook me to the core and I had to look away? How could I tell him that I understood his vulnerability and that I was here for him, and that it didn’t matter what he was afraid of or what his flaws were but that I accepted him just the way he was?

How could I tell him any of this when the very intention of telling him was what drove him away in the first place?

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