I think I could be falling for someone, a little.
It’s exciting, and scary. It feels like I’m flying, and falling, and happy, and sad, like my stomach is full of hot sand and my chest is full of hummingbirds.
I love to fall in love. I love the warmth, and the fire. The way a new lover is unveiled like a summer’s day, slowly at first—a promise of heat in the air. Sunlight on the horizon. Dare I say it… Birds singing, flowers blooming? Only a new lover, no matter how long they have been falling, can relate.
A summer’s day can unfold into a scorcher though, as well. So before my new love unfolds too much, there are some things I would like to say.
I’m not here to fix you. I’m not even here to figure you out. If you need to be fixed, or figured, or chased, I wish you all the best, but I simply cannot be involved—I don’t have the time, energy, or inclination. I am not looking for someone who is fixed, because I am still filling in my own cracks in many ways. But I need to know that you are capable, and willing, to fill in your own, without looking to me, or alcohol, or sex, or football, or outside things to fill in yours. From this place of caring deeply for ourselves, can we come together and care deeply for each other?
I need alone time. Probably about an hour every day to read, practice yoga, run, read the news, or just veg out. Some days it may be less. Some days it may be more. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. It doesn’t mean you’re annoying me. It simply means that in order to take care of myself, and you, and everyone else in our lives, I need time to reconnect with myself. I will always give you this same consideration. If you need more, or less, don’t be afraid to ask for it—or anything else, for that matter.
I need to marvel. I am someone who thrives in the richness of the soil, the brightness of the dawn, the colors of the sunset, the taste of rich black coffee. Even in the acuteness of the pain. I need to throw out my arms at least once every day and feel my heart sing in joyful harmony with the universe. And I need you to understand that.
Let’s agree that our relationship is a no judgement zone. You are free to be completely, 100% you. All of the burping, slightly odd, hogging the covers, overly generous, wickedly funny, crazy affectionate, million other wonderful you things that you are. Be them. Don’t ever hold back, even a bit, even when you think you will offend me or hurt my feelings, or that I will judge you. Because if we’re going to do this thing, all of those things will happen. And we cannot be afraid that the person we care about is to not going to care about us when we are not perfect—we will be cranky, and eat an entire bag of potato chips (me), and never clean the bathroom (you). Thoughtless words will be said. Let’s pause. Breathe. Address the issue without judgement, and talk.
On that note, let’s fight. Because sometimes you will hate me.
Sometimes I will annoy you so much you will want to claw out your own eardrums just to quiet the sound of my voice. And believe me, I’ll do the same, because my temper is like a thunder storm. Usually short, but wicked, and known to cause damage. We will get past it. If we accept each other. If we don’t stonewall. If we can give space, and love, and don’t fight dirty.
We will drive each other nuts.
Let’s be on the same side. Ours.
I want to feel amazed. By my love for you. By your love for me. By our love for each other, for life, for sunshine, for adventure, for patience. I don’t want to ever take advantage of you— if I do, I want you to gently remind me that sometimes I am selfish. I want to look at you every day, at least once, and wonder at how this perfectly imperfect life came to be.
I want you to think I am beautifully flawed and hopelessly whimsical.
Let me make blueberry scones for you, without a recipe, because I cannot follow them, and serve them on mismatched colored dishes. Then I will write, and practice yoga, and you will work on your computer. We will be quiet, but content. Later, we will walk downtown, and have a drink, and talk. About bicycles and tequila and Brazil, or perhaps fashion, because we can talk about anything. Or maybe we will sit quietly, because we can be quiet. We will walk home, touching hands occasionally, because I like to walk alone. We will make love slowly but roughly, full of the passion and heat born of two people who cannot get enough of life, or each other.
Let’s be silly. And sad. And joyful. Let’s explore the world, and each other, and the backyard. Let’s make cookies, and memories, and love, and gardens, and a life that is full. Of what, I’m not sure yet. It’s taken me a long time to get to this place… I’m ready to find out.
This the the first in the series. See the second here.
Editor: Renée Picard