When Fox told me he’d fallen in love with me, I wasn’t surprised. There were several moments in the last few weeks where I could feel and see those words shimmering just below the surface.
I’ve thought them myself, usually in the midst of or after sex. But when the phrase “I love him” popped into my consciousness, I dismissed it as partially due to that wonderful drug Oxytocin. Because it’s designed to bind us to someone in this very fashion. I wasn’t ready to say it and certainly didn’t want to be the first.
Why do I resist?
I am keenly aware I told another man I loved him just last week. Now, it was in the process of telling him I couldn’t see him again, but still. I know I will always have a place in my heart for Tony, even if I’m moving on.
All that to say, somehow it felt disingenuous in that moment to tell Fox I loved him.
I don’t want to say it just because he did. How often do we hear those words and feel compelled to respond in kind? You can’t take it back – can’t say “yeah I know I said I love you but upon further reflection I’m not so sure.”
But even more fundamental is my need to process how I feel in this relationship.
As I’ve said before, I feel calm. There is no anxiety. I know how he cares about me. He’s amazing to me. He’s steady and comforting. I’m fully embracing moving to a serious relationship with him. I like how he kisses me and the sex keeps getting better.
He doesn’t make me howl with laughter. His touch doesn’t instantly electrify me the way Tony’s did. He’s not high energy, or an extrovert. He’s a type “B”. He’s tall and relatively slim but not muscular. He’s never been to an Opera (okay the last one is true but irrelevant since he’s willing to go with me).
None of these particularly matter, but it’s not the type to which I’m usually drawn. He gives me so much and yet I worry about the relatively inconsequential things. In the past, I’ve taken chemistry over comfort. Muscles over maturity. Laughter over love.
These were not good decisions, but it’s a pattern I’m familiar with.
I worry as the first man to quench my thirst, I could be blind. I worry about being wrong.
After all, the Platters did say: “when your hearts on fire, you must realize, smoke gets in your eyes.“