I did want to go. I looked forward to it. It's not often we get to get dressed and do something together where there will be interaction between us and other people without having to yell over music. Our time out together is mainly spent in the cold and dark of the movie theater where the only interaction is my chatter before and discussing of the movie afterward. And getting dressed happens about once a year in March. I like doing things like this. I wanted to go.
Until yesterday. Or maybe even the day before. Because my idea of a relationship involves wanting to know what you did, how it went, what happened, how you felt. I want to know details, see pictures. I want more than if you had a good time. I want to know what kind of good time you had. How was Wrigley? Was it crowded? How were the people? Was it far from where you stayed? Did you do anything else? How was your room? Did you sleep OK? Did my aunt like it? How was the weather? And I would have asked more questions once you answered me. I would want to hear how happy you were that you took the train without a hitch and found everything just fine, like a native. I'd want to hear about the bazillion iPod ads pasted over every part of the city. I would be dying to look at your pictures. I would tell you how I had a hard time sleeping without you. I'd say I was glad you were home. I would tell you I wish I could have gone with you and suggest we go sometime. I would be really happy for you.
I said my feelings were hurt when you weren't interested in my trip beyond pizza. You still didn't ask. I brought it up again yesterday. No interest. I waited for it today. Just a little. Nothing. And I'm not sure what's worse, that you didn't get a clue and just play along to make me happy, or that you don't want to know. Either way, your investment in me is so painfully slim.
In the end, I am the fool. I wanted safety and reliability. I wanted off the roller coaster of emotions I was on before you. I got those things. I knew you weren't swept away by me. I knew before we ever moved in together when you would tell me you would call when you got home, only to find you online. Even in that frenzied time when people first start dating and can't get enough of each other, I wasn't the first thing you wanted to hear and see. You never craved me every minute, counting the seconds until you could be with me again. I wasn't a priority even when I should have been your reason for breathing. I saw it. I knew. And I compromised. We are my mistake.
My trip, every trip is a harsh reminder of what I wish I had. I do need to let it all go. I just don't know how. I haven't quit wanting and hoping it will change, no matter how stupid I know it is. I don't know how to give up. Because I do love you. I love the idea of us. A happy us. I know marriage isn't easy, and it's not blissful all the time. I know I don't want to feel like a worse person for it. But I am. As you said, I want what isn't there. But if I change that, I have to choose between a dead marriage or getting out. I don't know how to do either one, and I don't know that I can live in a dead marriage at all.
I get desperate sometimes, like this afternoon when I wanted you to tell me why you wanted me to go. It's not just that you love me. There is so much that doesn't say, so much I'm not so sure you feel. It's about why you love me, why you like having me around. It's the little things, and the medium things, I want to know, just like the big love thing. I want to know you like my company, like you said before you left. I want to know if you like seeing me get dressed up, that you want to have a nice time out together, that you don't want to be apart. I want to hear you say you like how my hair falls over my face sometimes, that you like to hear me laugh, how you're proud of me. I wanted you to soothe, reassure, comfort me. With your words, by stroking my hair, pulling me close, not just laying a hand on my back and asking what else you were supposed to do.
Love is just too big sometimes. It's the category under which everything that makes you care about me falls. What is it that makes you feel love for me? I wonder how often you do feel it anymore, or if it's the same vague and mysterious thing that I feel from you. I can still name so many things that make me love you. It's not hard at all. I just can't believe you are that broken that you can't do that too. I feel that there just isn't enough left for you to name. I can see how little interest you show in what I do, who I am, how I feel. Your interest was never overwhelming since I've known you, but it was better. Now, it is hardly a shadow. I don't know how you love that, some unrecognizable remnant.
I miss you even now, as you left the room. I imagine you talking and laughing, and I wish I were there to share it with you. I wish a wedding wouldn't be painful to me, but it is. I just wanted something that told me my marriage wasn't the shattered mess I feel it is. I didn't get that, so I'm here, alone again, lonely again. All your fun and joy isn't with me anymore. You don't even think about me like I think about you. I still call you all the time when I'm away, because I like being with you, doing everything I can with you. I don't have an unhealthy obsession, and I'm not dependent on you for everything either. I just prefer to be with the person I love more than I don't.
I don't wish I went anyway or that you stayed home. I wouldn't have been happy there, but I would have pretended I was, which never fails to confuse you. You don't see that I can put up a flawless front. You are as fooled by the lie as anyone, even though I think you should see through it. Then you are even more surprised when I take the mask back off. I often have to endure being told I hold a grudge, how I can't let anything go. I can't let go what lives inside me. I live with this almost every day to some degree. When it blows up, I don't get over it right away. It's not a grudge. It's my life. I just get to where I can shore myself up enough to go on. But I know I can't do it forever. That time is so close. I feel it hovering. One day I'll be too broken to put back together. And I don't know what to do. No... I don't want to do what I know I have to do--give up the dream of living happily ever after with you.
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One Year Ago Today:
