Truth

Sam told me tonight that he had been trying to explain to his roommate his relationship with me, and found it impossible.  That she just doesn’t get it, or it can’t be explained, can’t be summed up.  He said this out of nowhere.  I did not start the conversation.  It turns out that he might be out of town for my last week in LA before I leave for Syracuse again, and I said that we’ll have to spend more time together before he goes, and he said that our relationship was unexplainable.  And I said that what I usually tell people is that we’re soul-mates, because it seems to be the closest.  And he said, yes, it’s really the only explanation.  The only way of putting it, and the only way it makes sense.  We agreed that there was no one else in our lives like it, and that that might well be a good thing.  And we agreed that we would take a trip together sometime ourselves, to Ireland — he suggested Ireland, and of course when he said it, it was the obvious answer.  Why I had even proposed anywhere else I don’t know.  We might be able to meet up in NYC at the end of this coming semester, which would be good…but he’s moving back to Canada for school, and I hate saying goodbye to him.  It’s just really good to know that he agrees with me about being soul-mates.  I have always wondered.  He said that we should make sure our trip to Ireland is "woven into the loom" — a turn of phrase and belief he’s taken from some books I loaned him — and asked me to forgive the reference.  We shared a long, warm hug, and he told me to be well.  And I got in my car and drove home.

"Be well" is also a turn of phrase he has taken from me.  I borrowed it from Elisabeth, and now Sam has borrowed it from me.  Something about the whole business made me so sad…I wanted to tell him that he is one of so, so few people who will always, always be part of my life.  He and Elisabeth, our relationships are immutable.  And that’s about everyone.  And I wondered if, for him, the same was true of me, that I was one of so few, perhaps even the only one.  And then I realized that I have so often been on the verge of telling him that I can’t do this, it’s too hard to lose him and lose him and lose him…I can never tell Sam that.  Because I need to always have him in my life, and therefore it’s possible that he needs to always have me in his life.  And if he needs me the way I need him, I will be there.  Always and always.  My own need is somehow immaterial in this, because sometimes what I need more than anything is not to lose again, and I constantly lose him.  But how can I lose and lose unless I also find and find?

This summer hasn’t worked, and I’m fighting to make that be OK.  I want to talk to Sam about it, but we’ve been rather short on serious conversations this summer…his roommate is flighty and good-humoured, and they share a sense of fun and silliness, and to sit him down and say that I am not quite OK would intrude on that in some way.  I’m sure he knows, though…he probably still puts it down to Tyler.  Some of it probably still comes down to Tyler, I suppose.  I don’t think about him much, and I communicate with him even less.  I don’t miss him or want him at all, and I think probably I was well out of that relationship before it could fall apart on its own merits.  Someday I’ll meet someone, and that will be great, and until then I’ll just be single.  Right now that really and truly seems OK.  So I don’t think this is about Tyler, or not largely about Tyler.  I’m bored and I’m stuck and feeling ineffective.  Despite the fact that I am working and making gifts and seeing people.  And taking tap, as of today.  What, do I need to be taking ballet to feel like I’m worth something?  Is that what this is?

It’s late, I’m going to bed.  I’m frustrated and sad.  What can you do.

But at least Sam loves me.

–Stephanie