How can the sound of someone’s voice melt me? Maybe it’s not how it sounds but what it says? How eager it is to make me smile and easily it is pleased by the slightest little thing I do? I know it’s the euphoric feeling of love. New love. The love that sees through problems and hurts and fights and claws its way to the front of the room to stand the tallest and clap the loudest for the other one even after a less than stellar performance. It’s wanting the best for someone else so much it hurts inside. Oh love. It is a curse at times. Sense and reason just have no prayer against it.
Martin and I are past our 10 month mark. We are quickly approaching our one year anniversary. It seems hard to believe that two people could live on opposite continents and have the connection we have. He always remarks how strong it is and I literally see it hit him sometimes when I smile a certain way – it’s like a wave. It’s a combination of love, lust, admiration, respect and friendship. And I guess I wouldn’t want it any other way. Not if I’m considering marriage. All of that should be there in full force.
And while we talk about being “head over heels in love” in theory as a good thing, when you are for real it usually scares the people around you. Maybe you are “too into him”, maybe “you talk too much”, maybe you need to “step back and take a breather”. But when it’s the last thing you want to do because it feels so great to be with that person in every way, you wonder what all the fuss is about? Who cares if I want to be with him night and day?
Isn’t this what all the love songs are about? “Ain’t no mountain high enough, ain’t no valley low enough, ain’t no river wide enough, to keep me from you.”?
We know we need to keep our friends, our hobbies, our houses clean, our bills paid, our bosses happy. It’s life isn’t it?
It’s the difference between someone loving a Chicago style deep dish pizza with the crispy cheese melted and charred on the edges of the crust so much that you can’t even see straight and biting into that first bite and wanting to devour it but realizing that if you ate the entire pizza your body would revolt and what tastes so good on the first few bites would really turn out to be bad for you.
So too much of a good thing is not good. I get that.
(Can you tell I’ve had some conversations with my friends?)
What happened with Martin in England this past week has erupted some conversations between me and my friends and reminded me of other conversations I’ve had with my family about “rushing in”. In that moment when I was getting back in the car, after he said, “Livvy please get in the car.” and me saying, “I guess I don’t have any other choice.” Ugh. Sitting hugging the door and looking out the window with tears in my eyes. All these words came swirling around my brain.
“really how well do you know him, he lives so far away you haven’t even lived in the same time zone.”
“how do you know he is who he says he is when you only talk to him twice a day and don’t know any of his friends”
“are you sure he’s not just saying those things?”
“have you thought this through?”
“what if he’s a conman?” (yes they really said that)
“don’t let him see your bank account” (yes that too)
“this is crazy”
I’ll give them that. It is crazy. It is nothing short of crazy in many ways. But here is the difference.
It’s not like I got a shiny brochure lavished with beautiful pictures and flowery statements about a dream vacation somewhere in Tahiti, turned over my life savings, sold my home, and signed a contract to live there for the rest of my life.
What happened was I met a real person. With hair that grows in his ears that he lets me shaved away, with wrinkles on his face that show his age, and a smile that just about knocks me over. Someone who wants to be as much for me as I am for him and because of that has made some mistakes. Someone who has lived in a desert his whole life and has grasped onto life anyway and chosen to see the good in it instead of the desperation. A male version of the Unsinkable Molly Brown. Someone who does not like to make me sad but will tell me the truth when I need to hear it. Someone who is so used to being alone he is almost in awe when he realizes how much I care. Someone who needs affection as much as I do and can hold me for hours at a time and just listen to me breathe. Someone who has shown me countless hours of family video so that I could see him with his girls when they were little and all the crazy things he used to do with them. Someone who picks out a birthday card for me and forgets to sign it and only realizes it after he’s dropped it in the mailbox. Someone who asks me about my kids every single day and will listen to every story and complaint I have to tell.
And I realized something these past couple of days. The motivation for a lie is important to understand. I think in this case. He lied because he wanted me to think better of him. He didn’t want to let me down. And what I have to make clear to him in the future is that it is not only SAFE to tell me the truth in every way shape and form, it is far more preferred. I don’t want perfect, slick, or polished. I want someone with character. Period. I want someone who knows what he wants and who he is and doesn’t have to lie to me to make it seem that he is anything more than that.
This is the real deal. Not a fantasy. Not a fairytale. Not a movie. Real life. And I for real am in love. Head over heels but eyes wide open in love with a flawed but tender spirit who fills me up. He is more than he is not. I know this to be true.
Every single time I think of him, I fall in love all over again.