No Words Necessary (ii)
Usually, when I write about a person, they’re not actively reading it. This is the first time in my life that the person has actually been a witness to my thought process. It was a pretty major step for me, to open myself in this way to a person–it’s a sign of my trust and care for Susan that I allowed it, and even more that I encouraged it. I don’t like people seeing my gyrations, the more fretful and worrisome parts of my mind. Like her, I like to present a certain image of put-togetherness and competence, free from the emotional distress that typifies others.
("You should be flattered," I had said at lunch. "Can I be any more flattered?" she asked, incredulous. "Haven’t we hit some sort of threshold on flattery or something?")
The other day at work, my coworker Barb commented that I never made mistakes or missed anything. "You’re so relaxed," she said, apparently amazed that I never seem to hurry or fret, that I’m very casual and laid-back. "You’re quick but thorough", she continued. "I’m not even that relaxed in my sleep. I don’t know how you do it!"
Needless to say, the irony of this made me laugh.
Susan remarked upon my sharing with her, saying that the day she found out about my blog, she could see the thought process as I was deciding whether or not to trust her with it. We decided it was very similar to the face that she’d made a little while before when I mentioned her mom reading it.
Normally, I don’t express these things. I keep the thoughts hidden away. But with her, I want no falseness, no agenda, no secrets. And I’ve done that. All of the words I didn’t say right away, I found the right time to say to her. I have been as open and honest as one could reasonably expect from a person, and I feel good about that, that when I asked her if she believed my sincerity, that she easily and honestly replied, "Yes."
It has, however, a cost. Susan is a very private individual. More than I will ever be, more than I could even hope to be–for indeed, I do envy her ability to lock things down and shut them away and not let them cripple her. If I am heart-on-the-sleeve, she is heart-in-a-vault, in that her emotions are tightly guarded and she doesn’t let anyone into them easily. Everything she’s given me, everything I read in her eyes and expressions? They’re gifts for which I’m thankful. The fact that I’m in there is pretty significant, and don’t think I don’t know it.
She enjoys my writing, admires my talent, and likes reading my thoughts. However, at the same time, it’s very exposing, and even though it’s relatively anonymous and she knows exactly who knows the full story, it makes her uncomfortable to see our business displayed on the web.
A few weeks ago, I asked her if my writing about everything bothered her. She said not to stop writing, that she understood it was for me, and that she trusts my judgment. I appreciated that at the time, and didn’t fully stop to consider its effect on her. I don’t think she necessarily realized it either. That discomfort isn’t right. It’s our story, not my story, and I need to respect her role in it and her decisions regarding it.
Something which hadn’t occurred to me until today was that on some level, she must be thinking, "is he going to do this every time?" And while I knew the answer was no, I realized..she didn’t. So I said to her, no, this is atypical. If she and I become involved in the future, our business won’t be blurted out for the world to see. I’m a very private individual. I wanted to record this moment, and wanted to tell a story as it happened, yes. It was something of an experiment, not just creatively, but emotionally as well, to be able to look Susan in the eye and know that I’d been showing her ME. But in the future? No. Our business is our business, and it’s not going to be published on the web, period. I don’t want that, she certainly doesn’t want that, and it was a very understandable concern on her part. She is one-of-a-kind in a number of ways, and so is this situation.
I don’t regret that I wrote anything; I think more good has come of it than bad. It’s certainly facilitated our understanding and given us time to truly think about each other, not just together, but in the comfort of our own homes, free from each other’s probing looks.
But it’s time to stop, and I had to make a gesture to reassure her, and say, look: THIS isn’t our future. I am not going to force you to share things you don’t want to share with people, and I respect that, and so I’m going to write one more entry, that I hope she reads, and then stop it. I told her, that’s it, you’re the test case, I’m never doing this again. This all ends with you.
When I said all of this, she visibly relaxed a bit. She’s been very generous so far, for which I’m sincerely thankful. She said she felt guilty that she was "making me not write", and I quickly corrected her. "No", I said, "this is a choice, made by me, because I know that it makes you uncomfortable. I appreciate your gesture, but I am actively choosing to cease writing about us. It results from the both of us talking, yes, but it is my doing, my choice, out of respect for you. You do not control me."
I think she saw one of my issues there. *cough* But I saw how much it meant to her that I was willing to do this. I even offered to change her name in all of my posts, and we had fun for a moment wondering what her blogname could be. That led to my reminiscing about Wren, which comes from my Everquest character name.
I haven’t been playing much lately. I’m sort of sad about it, because I’ve invested about six and a half years of my life into playing it. I was never one of the crazies; as I reminded Susan, in St. Louis I maintained a healthy social life and have always been able to step away from the game when necessary.
Still, it’s been an important part of my life. I wrote about it earlier in my blog (The Games We Play); I can’t say it better than I did there. However, I simply don’t have the time anymore, and can’t put forth the effort it requires. I’m sort of like a visiting celebrity now, rather than a participant. It’s hard for me to do something if I know I can’t put forth the proper effort. I don’t do things halfway, remember? I blamed it on work, but she asked if she was to blame as well for my not playing much anymore.
Yes, and no. Certainly, spending time with her has taken away from it, but it wasn’t as if it was a negative. I told her, "Spending Time With Susan is, no question, my favorite thing to do. It’s top of the list. There’s no competition. Nothing compares to it. I’m very tired. I work a tremendous amount–and I don’t say that to make myself sound cool, you know how much I do, and it wears me out. I get home and I always have something else I want to work on; a letter, a movie, a spreadsheet, whatever. Something more important, something that needs to be done." Like writing about her, she pointed out, knowing it takes a fair amount of time. I acknowledged it took a few hours per entry.
In short, it’s priorities, and having a career has radically affected my life. Even yesterday, I had a bunch of people expecting me to log on and lead a raid, but I took a shift at a library instead, because it was an opportunity I couldn’t miss. I didn’t even think twice about it. That’s good–it means the game is in its proper place.
We talked about how my life will be once I’m in school in the Fall, and how my life will really change and become busier. Hopefully by then I’ll be an Associate somewhere, but even if not, I’ve always been good at juggling responsibilities and multitasking. Still, it’s very tiring, and for a few months, my life has essentially been work and Susan. And I rather liked it.
"You make me happy," I said. "And I make you happy." She smiled. It’s just that simple.
However, now it’s just work. And I’m fucking exhausted, and the emotions of the last couple of weeks didn’t help any. And I missed the rest of the table. I missed what makes us Us. I missed the laughter, the banter, the sharing, the everything. It’s great to know that she and I can handle emotional turmoil, that we can weather these storms and keep coming back. But we need that carefree part of our relationship too, the give-and-take, that dance that we do.
She knows exactly how I feel, because it comes through in all of my actions. And I know how she feels, for the same reason. We radiate. So you know, let’s give it a chance to do so. What happens, happens.
As I rambled on, she watched me with what I can only term as bemused, loving warmth. At one point, she asked, "How much of a bitch have I been?" I gave a short laugh. "You haven’t. You’ve been you. You haven’t lied to me, mislead me, or treated me with anything but care. It all adds up."
We’ve talked around things a few times, but we’ve never mistreated each other. We’re good to each other, and for each other. I needed to continue demonstrating that.
"I lead by example", I said, and she told me to stop stealing her words.
"I’m not going to stop writing," I said, "but I don’t need to write about THIS. I’ll go back to writing about other things. I want you to read my blog. I like you reading my blog," I said.
"It’s only fair, ’cause you read my mind," she replied. She did a double-take. "Oh no, you’re going to write that one down, aren’t you?" Not wanting to disappoint her, I smirked, grabbed a piece of paper from my pocket and did precisely that.
The night was full of agreement. Harmony. We picked up what the other was putting down. This was a conversation I felt we had to have. And we’ve done very well with it. Considering all we’ve been through–coming so remarkably far–we needed our handful of sessions to really talk it out. Well, maybe only I *needed* these sessions, but her reactions show she valued them too. They solidify things. Remove questions. Remove doubts. Just..be.
I’m looking forward to just being able to be Us around each other. And I think we can finally do that again. What we do works for us. We understand each other, scary though that is, and even though we’re pretty fucking weird about it, I know that she likes that I understand her, that she doesn’t need to speak, and that it’s ok. That I’m not holding it against her or asking her to be someone she isn’t, that I accept her, with all of her perfections and flaws. For the first time, she’s running into someone who’s willing to explore all of these and talk about them.
"Well, YOU talk, I don’t need to say anything because you talk for me," she snarked.
"Because I know if you disagree, you’ll speak up. I count on that. Silence is assent," I replied.
She knows that, too. And that there’s a lot of good that comes from it, it’s pretty painless, and usually kinda fun. And shit, she acknowledges I’m a mind-reader. That’s a hoot.
So, I take it back. Last Tuesday wasn’t the most important conversation. This was.
We walked back to her apartment, laughing because for the second time in two dinners, the waitress had to chase us down because we forgot our leftovers. Kudos to the wait staff for being incredibly thoughtful. We talked about a ticket I had gotten once for reading in traffic, and she mentioned how I drive a little crazy, although I insisted I always have complete control over my car. She smirked at me. "You should know by now it pays to keep me happy." I nodded my head. "Good point. Ok, when you’re in my car, out of respect for you, I’ll try to be more careful." She beamed.
I couldn’t stay longer, because Raina was coming to pick her up for trivia, meaning I had to skedaddle. As I left, I motioned for her to stand. "I’m going to hug you," I said.
"Uh oh," she said, "is this going to turn into an expectation?"
"We just had an emotional talk. I’m getting a hug."
We separated, and I opened the door, and looked at her. "What’s the motto?" I said. And she smiled and answered. "We’re fine."
Fates willing, that’ll never change. And you know, for the first time, I actually think I met someone who’ll help me make sure of that.
Act the Third: Trivia
I came home, and changed, jotted down a few notes for this, then went to trivia. When I arrived, Raina and Susan and Phil were already there chatting, and Susan and I exchanged a look and I pulled up a chair next to her.
It was a lively evening of conversation. There was a different vibe between Susan and I. It was natural again. I don’t know how to explain it, but whatever happened today eased us. Made us comfortable with each other again. A few side conversations, a few looks, a few inside jokes, but free from the frustration. It was mid-December again.
A good night, aside from the beer spilled on my coat by some waitress. We won trivia, ending our January slump. And ironically, I missed a question about the 1904 World’s Fair, proudly declaring "Chicago!" in such a convincing voice that everyone believed me. The answer was St. Louis, which immediately resulted in a significant amount of well-deserved ridicule. You’d think I would get all the St. Louis questions. I won’t live that one down for awhile. But I guarantee I won’t fuck it up next time.
It’s been something of a tradition when we leave the bar for her to say to me, "Ok, I’ll see you Friday," or whatever day it is. I always liked this bit of Usness, the affirmation of when we’d see each other again. Tonight, however, we knew that we may not see each other for a week, unless we make plans with our friends–but it’s ok. For the first time in the last couple of weeks, it really is ok.
I’ll count on seeing her next Tuesday for lunch. If she’s bold, she’ll invite me to dinner again. But if not? You know, we’re ok with that. We’re fine. She knows I’m here waiting for when she’s ready to spend time with me again, but in a good way.
So when we left as a group, she didn’t say that. She didn’t say a word. She walked toward Raina’s car, and I walked toward my car. We turned our heads to look at each other quietly, clandestinely, and she raised her right hand slightly, her shy smile bidding me farewell. I responded in kind, nodding my head and hoping she could sense the warmth in my gaze.
No one needed to see it. No one needed to know it. Because this is, and will be, between Us.
For once, no words are necessary.