So, It’s Been A Week Now

Monday: Tom and I keep writing to each other and telling each other how happy we are and how much we appreciate each other and revealing little things, for example that he sings more when he’s alone, and I can’t stop my face from smiling. We both have trouble concentrating, and often think of each other. Part of me longs for him and part of me is glad we have to take it slow because his presence is a little overwhelming (I haven’t told him this.) I still can’t quite believe he feels this way for me. When I told him that he said he felt the same, which is so touching. Isn’t it wonderful that we both appreciate one another so much? It seems like a miracle to me.

I wrote last time that I had a thousand questions in my mind, which I also told Tom. He said he thought it was normal to have a few questions in the beginning and that he felt the same (what are his questions, I wonder?), but if there was something tormenting me I should ask, because he didn’t want me to torture myself.  And there is something torturing me, in a way: I can’t remember half the things that happened that time of the kiss. Tom had told me that night at dinner when we discussed our first date and the reason he had been silent so long afterwards (he felt he had left a bad impression and was also overwhelmed with work at the start of the semester) that he often could remember stressful situations in great detail. So I wrote to Tom and told him I couldn’t remember and that it bothered me. And I asked him if it was the way he had told me that night and he could remember everything, because then I could ask him about it. He said yes, the moment had etched itself into his memory (which is something I had wanted: a memorable moment we both would never forget, no matter what happened between us). He suggested that I tell him what I remembered at our next meeting and he would fill in the blanks. And he added that he certainly wouldn’t forget. I got the impression that he didn’t want me to ask him in writing, so I restrained my impatience. On the other hand, I was extremely pleased and flattered: All his remarks, as well as his tenderness after the kiss, seem to suggest that it deeply affected him. And I never thought about it, never expected this impact. I even used to doubt his ability to feel or show love.

I’ve also been wondering and trying to find out what this phenomenon of not consciously taking part or remembering stressful social situations could be. Is it a form of psychological dissociation? I couldn’t find any useful information. This makes me feel as if there was something wrong with me. My first kiss is something I wanted to remember for the rest of my life, but the memory is fuzzy, and while I felt the kiss, the sensation of it, I didn’t ‘feel’ it. It seemed as if there were too many busy lines and the network broke down, somehow.

Tom had to work Saturday night and I wrote to him before going to sleep. Then I woke shortly before six and glanced at my phone. On busy nights, he finishes work at five, so I was sure to see his message, but there was nothing. I checked and saw that he hadn’t even read my message since midnight. That was very unusual and I suddenly worried that something might have happened to him. I knew Tom was probably just very busy and wanted to wait until he had time to read and respond to my message. But I couldn’t help thinking about all sorts of disasters, accidents, death. It’s easy to do when your brain is still half asleep. That thought caused a very strong reaction. It suddenly struck me that losing Tom would be devastating. And that knowing he liked me and not doubting any longer that we would be together and experience all the sweet things there are to experience meant nothing. Nothing should be taken for granted. All it takes is one sip of a cold drink on a quiet Sunday morning in your own kitchen, and you can faint and hit your head and die. Any minute could be your last. I realised then with a shock how much Tom really means to me. I can no longer say ‘my life and happiness don’t depend on him,’ because now they do (partly). And this makes me vulnerable. Opening up and loving somebody makes you vulnerable in so many ways. Maybe it’s the price we have to pay. As I said in the last post: I am no longer untouched and also no longer untouchable.

I lay there and forced myself to relax and stop worrying. And I was grateful for that moment, because it showed me how much Tom means to me. The message alert sounded soon after – message from Tom – and I went to sleep, relieved. Later, I told him about my realisation and told him that since we can never know what will happen, I wanted him to know how much he means to me. And I told him not to apologize but he tried to, anyway. It had been as I had supposed, he’d been extremely busy and had wanted to read and answer my message at home in peace. And he told me that he understood how I must have felt, and that he used to feel uneasy letting me go home alone at night after our dates, and how relieved he always felt when I wrote to him after getting home. And that this made him realize how much I meant to him, too. When I asked him ‘Even then?’ he said that it had started quite early, but was of course much stronger now. This information stunned me. So he cared so much about me back then? And still was so cool in his behavior, never touching me or giving me the slightest sign that he felt more for me than friendship! I mean, I knew I truly liked him after he fourth date, but that I loved him, and how much, only after that moment on Sunday.


Wednesday: We have a date for tonight, dinner and then cinema. I hope he won’t try to kiss me tonight. I want our next kiss to be significant, I want to be able to truly feel it, and for this we need to be alone, without distractions. I’ve invited him to come to my flat on Sunday and there we will have the time and privacy to explore. I hope we will kiss then and maybe he will hold me in his arms. I can’t wait to experience that. Kissing and all of that is one thing, but I have been longing most to be held and to feel truly connected and loved.

Part of me still can’t believe what Tom tells and shows me: that he likes me, wants me, cares about me, thinks of me, would hate to lose me. He knows and meets many different women, rich ones, young and pretty ones, intellectual and sophisticated ones, certainly many thinner and more experienced ones. Yet he chose me. The other part of me thinks: Of course he loves me, I’m wonderful, alive, full of passion and music, intelligent and deep and brave for facing my fears, unusual, special. I have taste and a sense of humour and beauty on the inside and outside, and so very much to give. As always, the truth will be somewhere in between.

Oh, all these changes are happening so fast! My old self seems gone, and I miss it in a way. I was the cold, lonely, untouched one. Self-dependent, free. Any joys I had came from within. I was the ‘tragic heroine’ in my little film. It somehow made me feel special even when it was bad. Now I’m just another normal person with a love life, a ‘significant other’. It’s a little like when I lost weight: now I’m just a normal woman doing the things I do, no longer special because I do them with a fat body. It’s wonderful, but something has been lost nonetheless.

I listened to some of the music that I used to feel so connected to, and some songs that evoked special moods, but the effect is different. I can’t go back now. It’s too late, I’ve taken the steps towards love (and I wanted and needed to do it) and no matter what happens, I can only go forward now. Don’t get me wrong, I am extremely happy. It is just sometimes a little like waking up in a beautiful strange country and for a second longing for the cold but familiar desert you came from.

About annalienor

Lover of beauty, adult ballet student, deliberate creator wannabe.
This entry was posted in Love, Music and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to So, It’s Been A Week Now

  1. meetatbarre says:

    Beautiful writing…love following this story.

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