Learning | Experience (#8–Revelation iv)
Over the past three weeks, I’ve been in a shroud of Michaelandsusan. And every day I think we won’t see each other, we do. And I fuckin love it. Hell, so does she. We’re not doing anything we don’t want. We’re simply being incredibly indulgent of our fascination.
We almost had The Talk at one point. I made a foray, but it wasn’t the right time for it, so I postponed it. I wasn’t going to force her to talk about her feelings–she might disagree with that to some extent–but we needed to have a conversation. We needed to clear the air.
Even if it were uncomfortable, there were simply things that needed to be said or clarified, a consensus that needed to be reached. I was pretty sure we wanted the same thing–which was a beautiful, loving friendship that takes the best aspects of our unrequited attraction and doesn’t have any of the negatives. But I needed affirmation. I needed to know if I could trust my intuition. Was I completely misreading her? Was I that off, that wrong? I wanted her to simply tell me so that I could say, whew, ok, thank you. Let’s deal with it and move on. It’s hard to be 99% sure of somebody and have that 1% be stabbing you in the gut. My greatest fear was losing her, but my second greatest fear was her telling me, "No, I don’t feel that way at all. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Go away."
Saturday, something happened which seemed to spur us towards a final resolution. It was an evening with Raina. Back in mid-November, she’d expressed jealousy to Susan; not ha-ha at all. Susan and I at the time agreed that she really didn’t need to know about all the stuff we did together, simply because we didn’t want to upset Raina *or* be bothered with having to deal with it. We had some time before she arrived, and we agreed again that what happens in Michaelandsusanville stays in Michaelandsusanville. Shit, that should be an ad campaign. It was a very uncomfortable evening; so much that when I got home, I wrote Susan, though she never saw it, as it just went into the folder of unspoken thoughts.
I wrote:
Cognitive dissonance is a psychological term describing the uncomfortable tension that may result from having two conflicting thoughts (cognition) at the same time or engaging in behavior that conflicts with one’s beliefs.
In simple terms, it can be the filtering of information that conflicts with what one already believes, in an effort to ignore that information and reinforce one’s beliefs. The theory of cognitive dissonance states that contradicting cognitions serve as a driving force that compels the mind to acquire or invent new thoughts or beliefs, or to modify existing beliefs, so as to reduce the amount of dissonance (conflict) between cognitions.
Our relationship confuses me. I’m pulled in two different directions. Hell, maybe more, if I really sit down and analyze it. So I was doing some thinking about why we do the thing we do, and don’t know how much of this I really believe, but I’m throwing it out there.
We’re both compartmentalized people; we keep the various spheres of our life separate, in their own little niche, almost like different scenes in a play. With these friends I am Person A, with these I am Person B, and never the twain shall meet, because then I’d have to figure out whether I’m A or B, and might ruin my image with both of them.
We’re very aware of Michaelandsusanville. Or, if you prefer, Susanandmichaelville. =p We met and we sort of fell into it, gradually, and then suddenly. I don’t need to delineate the hours spent together, the mutual pursuit, or our consciousness of the subtext of our time together. It’s not-dating, a term I’m rather glad I came up with, and you’re totally my not-girlfriend, a term I haven’t yet shared with you. I don’t know if I will.
My natural inclination is to share Us. And I do–but only with people with whom it is safe to do so. We are secretive, you and I, and we shelter our time together from prying eyes. In some ways, it reminds me of opening a Christmas present and then futilely trying to stuff it back in the box. Sure, we got it back in there, but it isn’t wrapped like it once was, and the Styrofoam didn’t fit right, and somehow, it’s larger than the box we try to put it in. The seams have torn a little bit, and instead of saying, fuck it, it’s not going in the box, we force it in there.
I don’t know if that’s healthy for us, to be honest.
I think that part of the reason is that we’re attempting to find a way to have the best of both worlds. An intimate platonic relationship, a specialness, a togetherness, an Us-ness…even when we’re both aware we don’t really have one. It’s a shadow of what we could be, of course, and it always will be because we’re prevented by situation and choice from exploring it further. But by keeping it secret, we’re able to hold onto something that’s ours, that no one else is allowed to know about or touch or see or feel. Michaelandsusanville has room for two people. Not three, not five, not eighteen. And we like that OURS, we like the freedom we have within it, the exploration of all of our various buildings and roads and hills and forests and lakes.
Ours.
We’re both overly concerned with image–hard to find a pair of Leos that aren’t, eh? And we’re certainly concerned with our image. Neither of us want the disapproving eyes of our friends or associates implying things that aren’t true, no matter how one or both of us may secretly wish they were. We’re playing our parts well. Any hint of impropriety is snuffed out. I care about propriety, and because you care about it, naturally I attempt to be a little bit more reserved than usual.
But see, I’m also very showy. Not in a demonstrative, lookatme way, I don’t think, though sure, I can talk the talk and play the game fairly well. But I talk about the people I care about, and I interject things into conversation, I love ongoing jokes and secrets. It’s hard to sit across from you and Raina and hear you talk about Louisa and see Raina say "oh, you should invite me next time", even as I know you invited ME, and didn’t invite her, and that we’re completely misleading her about how you don’t mix friends, because you continually make one exception in your life: Me.
Because you know, if I’m your friend, and important to you, then obviously you should want to demonstrate that. Let the world know of my status in your life, just as you let me know of everyone else’s status. That’s what bothers me, I think. I spent too long being hidden or cast aside, and yes, I’ve developed some issues about it. I don’t want to be a dirty little secret, I don’t want to be the guy you’re ashamed of talking about, like I’m doing something wrong by being your fucking friend. My natural inclination is to Truly Represent Things. That’s it. And we, my dearest Susan, are not truly represented.
Mind you, I’m well aware it’s because of our situation, and the way our social circles have developed. Because I’m like, ok, what would happen if Raina found out I hung out with Louisa and she didn’t, or spent an hour looking through your yearbooks laughing and reminiscing? Right.
She’d be jealous, probably. It would hurt her feelings. She’d think she was replaced, though she wasn’t, really, I just hit a height she never did. She might think something fishy was going on, and go on the "you spend too much time together" tangent. We would be judged, and perhaps the negative impression would make us feel bad. Make us examine what’s going on between us, and most of all, cause us to feel we have to do something that neither of us want–to change our behavior.
I’m sure things will change between us, but it’s happening at our pace, right? What’s right for us. We’re figuring it out. I trust in that, and I hope you do too.
The fuck-off part of me just says, whatever, I’m going to represent what’s really going on, because there’s nothing wrong with it. I know you care about me. I know you care about your friendship with Raina. I know you care about your image regarding both me and Martin. I know you care about my feelings regarding it, because you make sure to tell me and gain assent regarding what we can and can’t say about Michaelandsusanville. And I know you care about me, because of the 100 things that you do that demonstrate how much.
But fuck, I hate those moments when we’re with people that I just can’t be myself, that we just can’t be Us, and it pisses me off to be treated like a pariah.
Nothing spurs me towards conversation like anger. I refused to let this hiddenness poison us.
So last night, we talked. It started with her talking about what had happened the night before, and both of us were of the same mind. That we did not like feeling like we had a dirty little secret, that we were doing something wrong. I was honestly shocked to see her as vehement as I was about it (and of course pleased), and it seemed as if the two of us had a genuine misunderstanding about who was the person that wanted the secrecy the most. Apparently, neither of us wanted it. Well, bully for us.
It was then I decided to simply take the plunge and say, fuck it. I’m going to talk, there’s absolutely no reason we can’t discuss everything, and over the next several hours we had a conversation in three parts that has done more for my mental health than I can even begin to express.
"We can’t keep this up," she said, and I agreed with her, even as part of me said "Yes, we can, that’s exactly why we’re at this point."
She isn’t the most comfortable discussing emotions, so it’s probably a good thing that I comprehend her so well. We dissected our relationship. We clarified. I came clean, and she revealed. (I wondered, amused, if she heard the constant stream of love songs that were playing on the Subway speakers while we talked.)
The various tests we put each other through, the wariness, the mutual fascination? She knew the entire time. She knew I was into her long before I knew she was into me. Point, Susan. It’s always disturbing to find out you’re not as coy as you thought you were.
We were both afraid of mixed signals, but the entire time, we were thinking in parallel. During the initial couple of months, we were waiting for the other person to fuck up. I waited for her to turn into someone not worthy of my affection or to take advantage of me. She didn’t. She waited for me to make a move on her or create some sort of drama. I didn’t.
That’s what paved the way for growth, I think–that we didn’t disappoint each other. As a result, we grew closer together, and felt safe. Our concerns became less about the other person fucking up and more about our own potential to cause hurt. She’s afraid of taking advantage of me and being unfaithful to Martin. Conversely, I’m worried I’ll put her in an uncomfortable position, be pushy or mistreat her, that she would misinterpret me as being inappropriate and disrespecting her–and thereby ruin something beautiful. Because as I’ve said, what I wanted most of all was not to lose her, not to lose THIS.
She laughed when I said that I was afraid of wronging her; she doesn’t think I *could* mistreat her. And you know, the fact that we don’t think ill of each other is a pretty good sign about the strength of our bond.
However, we both know that at some point, we are bound to normalize. It has to. Right? We’ve sustained this for a ridiculous amount of time–which is another good sign, heh–but eventually it’s going to run out of fuel because the natural progression of our affection would take us to a place that both of us are unwilling to go. I don’t think either of us quite knows how we’re going to transition from point A to point B–because to be honest, we don’t really want to. We enjoy each other too much. I was glad to get an email from her today, and I look forward to seeing her tomorrow, and I look forward to seeing her Thursday, and yep, I hope we spend some time together this weekend. That isn’t going to change.
Our attraction isn’t going to disappear, but it will mature. I came out of the discussion knowing she is committed to our friendship, that she values me, my role in her life, and that we are in this together. Neither of us want to lose each other, and we both realize that if one of us fucks with the other, no matter how much we care, we’re both willing to walk away. No lives will be ruined in the making of this film. It’s a team effort. Heh. So this is what a mature relationship is. You actually discuss difficult shit and resolve it. Funny how long I’ve been missing that.
One of her virtues is that she settles me down. I’m used to being the rock-solid one in the relationship. Here, she stabilizes me, calms me, helps me retain my focus. I’m not entirely sure what I give her, but I think it’s how I encourage her to express herself, to explore herself, to step a bit outside of her comfort zone. I prod her, but most of all I accept her, not for who she tries so hard to be, but also for who she actually is, the pieces of her that others don’t get to see. She can relax a bit, and be herself, just as I feel I can be myself around her. Again, we complement each other well.
I felt a little guilty afterwards, because I admittedly pushed a little in my zeal to explore the nooks and crannies of our situation. I wanted to encourage her to speak, and let her know it was perfectly safe, that there wasn’t going to be any ugliness here. She has an innate fear? distrust? reluctance? of commitment. In many ways I understand it. A lot of times her responses were quiet nods, or what I can only term The Susan Look of I Agree But Don’t Make Me Say It.
The only moment of discomfort was a point where she wasn’t willing to grant me a vote of confidence about our long-term compatibility. I don’t even remember where it came from, it was an interjection of hers at the tail-end of one of my ramblings, and it caught me off guard. I thought she was being disingenuous at best. Naturally, I defended us, saying "C’mon, how are we incompatible? What could possibly make you say that? Aside from my tendency to analyze everything." She smiled and chuckled in assent. Then she gave me that certain look, and said, more a gentle plea than a firm statement, "I don’t think we need to discuss whether or not we’d be good together."
And I think I understood, that she didn’t want to go down that path, that it was a line she wasn’t comfortable crossing, to be sitting in a room with a not-boyfriend talking about how great they would be, that even if I could have that sort of discussion and be ok, that she couldn’t.
I could respect that, and I remembered something else she had said earlier, when we were talking about long-term friendships and how I had put her in the 30-year-friend category because I just knew. She said it’s hard for her to commit to anything years down the road, because so much can change. She looked at me and very frankly said, "I’m willing to commit to right now. But a lot can happen in three years."
Yeah, you’re right, it can. And it has. It really made me think. We’ve had a lot of discussions about commitment. I’ve always been one for grandiose statements about loyalty and devotion, even though I’ve been burned. But sometimes, I think that might be missing the point, that precisely because we can’t see the future, what’s important isn’t saying you’ll be with someone 10 years down the road.
It’s waking up every day and committing to the important people in your life all over again.
And so every day, for a long time, I’m going to wake up, and be thankful Susan is in my life, and I’m going to do my damnedest to treat her right. I don’t know how long she’s going to be here, I don’t know where either of us will be five years down the road, and I don’t know what challenges life’s going to throw at us.
I know her, both what she says and doesn’t. And when I look back at the last four months and I add it all up, I see a woman who truly cares about me, and is committed to Us. It’s in her eyes, it’s in her smile, it’s in the way she looks away, it’s in the timbre of her voice. It’s in her phone calls, her emails. It’s in her voice when she makes fun of me, it’s in her reaction when we banter. It’s in the way she remembers things and demonstrates that she actually listens. It’s in her comprehension of me, and her bemused tolerance. It’s in the way she’s considerate about my feelings, and looks out for me personally and professionally. It’s the way she sometimes looks like she wants to tackle me for my insolence. It’s in the way she formatted a certain survey in Arial Black and Times New Roman.
She doesn’t need to say it. And in many ways, I don’t need to hear it, because relationship aside, the most important thing I’ve ascertained as a result of this is that I *can* trust myself, that my intuition was right, that my perceptions aren’t crazy.
So yes, Susan, I know.
Me too.
It’s somewhat ironic that two people can have a conversation about how they’re not going to be together, and wind up closer because of it.
As I left, I shrugged on my jacket and looked at her.
"Are we good?" I asked, wanting one final affirmation that we’d said what was needed. She smiled, and for an instant all of her self-consciousness slipped away, and I saw Her, and her response was warm and true. "Yeah," she agreed. "We’re good."