So THIS Is Unconditional Love…Even When I Sound Like A Mob Wife
::sashays past you and gets comfy on your couch::
::does not address lengthy writing hiatus while pouring a cocktail::
I think I’ve had a breakthrough. Not to get all 20-something-lost-middle-american-girl-in-a-stupid-movie on you, but…I realize…this time…I love differently.
I don’t write much about my current relationship. It’s far more exciting to
talk smack about the losers tell tales of dating adventures past. Who wants to hear when someone’s all in love and happy? Pffft! I hate that shit! The internet is for bitching, moaning, whining and watching cat videos! Everyone knows that! DUH!
But this one time, forgive me. Ok?
Whaddayou mean NO?! Ok.
Somewhere on this site, I’ve mentioned the fact that I can hold a grudge at championship levels. I am the Floyd “Money” Mayweather of resentment. I’ve shared that I will go toe-to-toe with my man if I really believe it’s worth it, assuming there’s something to be gained for us. I’ve had trouble learning The Fine Art of Shutting the F*ck Up. I’ve confessed that if you make me mad, my legs close up tighter than Honey Boo Boo’s fist around a french fry. ::Soup Nazi voice:: “NO COOCH FOR YOU!”
And yet, when I recently found myself throw-shit-at-his-head mad at The Mister, I didn’t pull away. And no, wiseasses, I didn’t throw anything either. Only guttersnipes throw things.
Smart women hit wallets. Let’s face it: my temper isn’t going to disappear. My mother recently advised: “You must really be upset; you sound like a Mob Wife.” (She said Drita though, and I love her, so that CAN’T be all bad!!! HEYYYYY, DRITA! But, I digress…) I’m slow to anger, but once I’m there, I tend to sit and stay a while.
Such was the case, in fact, that an ex refused to face me once after being caught in a lie. He said “I couldn’t take the shame of looking you in the eyes. I knew you weren’t going to forgive me or trust me again and I couldn’t bear the weight.” YIKES. It sounded more like he was sent to face the school principal in 4th grade than headed to face me with my 5′ 3″ frown. Apparently, I’m one helluva judge.
Except…fast forward to last week and…maybe not anymore? I mean I was still mad about the thing that made me mad to begin with when I bought his favourite apples for the fruit bowl…but I didn’t double think it or silently hoping he’d choke on one. When I kissed him hello, I meant it. When he rubbed my feet, I didn’t want to kick him. And I asked if he’d eaten at work that day…without fantasies of spitting in his food playing in my head. (Look, I was REALLY mad okay? Don’t judge me!)
Somehow, caring for this other person was bigger than the thing he did to upset me. I’ve only really ever known that feeling for my son.
How did THIS happen? WHO AM I?! Did I just grow up or am I soft? OMG, I’M SOFT AREN’T I?! YOU CAN TELL ME!
No. I’m not soft. ::pops pimp collar:: But I did realize that THIS is unconditional love in motion. This is how it feels when taking care of each other and still being in love means more than the righteousness of being angry or the triumph of being right. The thing still happened, but I didn’t love him any differently in words or in actions.
And this is where I wanted it to stay. I felt safe enough to let it go and not wield my hurt like a weapon. Every couple has arguments, and I know we’ll argue again somewhere in the future, but I also know that I can love through the argument. I always knew that…but now I’m finally able to SHOW it. It’s the showing that has always been hard for me.
So, yeah…something’s different. And I’m happy to have the lightbulb moment.
However, if VH1 needs a mouthy mixed girl from The Bronx with
questionable taste in men great taste in shoes, wine, and books to build a show around, feel free to let me know!
::whispers:: Call me.