Feb 162013
 

A few minutes after midnight on the first day of the month, J emailed.

Ma’am, I am pretty sure that as of tonight, February 1st, we have been seeing each other for two years [. . .]

I had forgotten, but he remembered. Two years ago, some time in February, we happened.

(What followed was the sweetest love letter I’ve ever received, not just for what it says, but for the way it reflects what I value about our relationship.)

It’s not important to me to remember when we first kissed or when we last kissed. What is important to me is when we’ll be able to kiss again. What’s important to me is that we maintain whatever-this-is long enough to make it to that next kiss. What’s important to me is how it feels when it happens. Those things are what I’ll celebrate.

Two years of kisses, quarrels, laughter and liquor, obsession, affection, and anger. Two years of more love, more frustration, more connection and confusion than I know what to do with.

It’s intense and intimate, and I’ve loved every moment, even the moments I’ve hated. I’ve even learned to appreciate the times we’re apart and the moments we’re disconnected for what they make us when we’re together.

What I haven’t ever admitted here is that J has always been leaving.

J’s been stalking job opportunities on the west coast since before we met. The reality is at some point, he’ll get the call, and then he’ll leave. I won’t move with him and he won’t stay. I don’t know if he would stay — it’s not something we’ve discussed, nor will we. It’s not important because it’s not an option. I’d never agree to it. I’d sooner break it off than ask him to abandon his dreams for me, and I won’t abandon my dreams for him. Our dreams are part of what makes us who we are — if either one of us changed, we wouldn’t be “us” anymore. That’s not what I want. I want what we have now for as long as we can have it.

We’ve always known we’re on borrowed time, and perhaps, that makes it all the more valuable.

In some sense, I think it’s why I’ve allowed myself to love him as hard as I have without worrying too much about what tomorrow will bring. I can be more vulnerable and open with someone who will disappear, in large part because I’ve always known that someday, he’ll be gone.

I’ve tried to take as much happiness as I can in the time that we have, all the while, struggling to keep a distance comfortable enough to ease the pain I know is coming… someday.

Someday.

Not today. :)

J, thank you for two fantastic years. More importantly, thank you for today.

If we have two more years, two more months, two days, two hours, or two minutes, I’ll love you as hard as I can for the time that we have.

 

  16 Responses to “two years”

  1. A lovely, and touching post. May you have many more years of sweetness, kissing, and all those other things that make years fantastic, together.

  2. That’s simultaneously wonderful and bittersweet. Here’s wishing the best for both of you.

    • @Neo — absolutely! It is wonderful and equal parts bitter and sweet. Here’s to hoping the sweet outweighs the bitter for as long as possible. :)

  3. “It’s intense and intimate, and I’ve loved every moment, even the moments I’ve hated. I’ve even learned to appreciate the times we’re apart and the moments we’re disconnected for what they make us when we’re together.”

    You’re making me all gooey here!

    The bf and I have been together for a year this month. It’s silly, but I’m almost afraid to say it out loud. I’m not even really sure what I’m afraid of. Maybe that somehow, saying the words OUT LOUD will jinx our relationship. Weird, I know.

    Congratulations to you both, D. And I wish you much more happiness to come. Heh…come.

    *hugs*
    Nikki

    • @Nikki: Gooey-ness all around, then!

      “The bf and I have been together for a year this month. It’s silly, but I’m almost afraid to say it out loud. I’m not even really sure what I’m afraid of. Maybe that somehow, saying the words OUT LOUD will jinx our relationship. Weird, I know.”

      Not that I’m any authority on “normal,” but I think it’s normal. When we humans grab a little bit of happy, we end up terrified that it’s going to be taken away from us… so much so that we forget what made us terrified in the first place… the happiness.

      I guess that’s the gift in being with someone who is going to leave… since I know the bad stuff is going to come whether I like it or not, that frees me to focus more on what makes me happy. There’s no sense in worry. The inevitable will come, so I might as well be happy while I can.

      Congratulations on one happy year! I wish you at least a hundred more years of happiness. :)

  4. D- your post made me weep. “Recreational crying,” a dominant friend of mine calls it. Your words touched me deeply. Hugs to you and J. xoxo

    • @Heather: Oh no! Not the weeping!!! To beg your forgiveness, I’ve spent the past several hours crocheting delicate thread into broomstick lace… to create a hanky that is worthy of your snot.

      Unfortunately, I don’t understand Recreational Crying. Perhaps that sport wasn’t offered at my school? I dunno. I played soccer and made the best of it. :)

      I appreciate your comment — I’m moved (too moved) by words. They delight me and they destroy me. I’m grateful that my own words might do a bit of both.

      As for hugs… we’ll take them. :)

  5. This reminds me that really none of us know for sure what is around the corner. Each day is one worth living like the last. That is why I love to serve my Queen so much. Life is just too short. But time with those we love is really the only thing worth anything in the end.

    • @Roy:

      none of us know for sure what is around the corner

      So true. This is why I avoid looking around corners. :)

      time with those we love is really the only thing worth anything in the end.

      Yes and no. Although I concede my values may change as I grow older and (hopefully) wiser, but my work is really important. I live for work, I enjoy it, and I’m good at it (most of the time), so it’s worth lots to me too. :)

  6. I love coming here and reading your stuff for so many different reasons but most of all because you write things like this ” If we have two more years, two more months, two days, two hours, or two minutes, I’ll love you as hard as I can for the time that we have.” Now that is something very very precious!

    Mollyxxx

  7. This is really touching; heartfelt. And I have to say, I so admire the respectful and reasoned logic behind your actions: you are completely right that without our dreams we are not us. There are compromises and there are COMPROMISES. That you both have maintained this relationship on – as you say – ‘borrowed time’ is testament to how well you know yourselves. You truly have my respect for this.

    • @Harper:

      I so admire the respectful and reasoned logic behind your actions: you are completely right that without our dreams we are not us.

      Thank you. I appreciate this more than you know. It’s not what people think of as romantic (relationship-romantic), but it there is a certain romance in putting faith in your dreams and working toward them, no matter what the consequence.

      That you both have maintained this relationship on – as you say – ‘borrowed time’ is testament to how well you know yourselves. You truly have my respect for this.

      Yes! I’d like to think I know myself, but I’m sure I won’t feel so confident and committed when the inevitable comes. Of course, that bridge will come, and we’ll cross it, soon enough.

      Thank you again for your kind words.

  8. That’s lovely. I wish you both all the best, in whatever time the universe chooses to grant you.

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