By Carl S ~
Our relationship, “goes way back.” She said that she knew me, “before you were born, in the womb,” and I told her that I knew her before SHE was born. We kid around like that, rarely.
It seems that everyone likes a “how we met” story, but ours wasn't all that special. Let's just say that I was at a rock-bottom place in my life, at the end of my rope. It didn't seem to matter whether or not I lived or died. I was lonely, hungry, and sleepless to the point of delirium. And then, she came along; comforting, gentle, with a voice like Marilyn Monroe on cream, with blue eyes I could happily drown in. Negative delirium turned into a positive delirium for her presence.
When my brother died last year, God was there to hold me and weep with me. For hours on end, I talked about my brother, the things he did, his sense of humor, the family stories about him and his innate goodness. I saw a surprise and pleasure in God's countenance as she found out these things she didn’t know. She said that she personally knew what it means never to be able to see someone ever again, and pointed out that humans have a hard time facing, as my brother did in his last months, that some things REALLY are hopeless.
To be honest, most of the time I can only guess at what God's thinking. Times, for instance, when she gets that inscrutable, perplexing look, that keeps me wondering if I can understand her after all of our time together. Like when, out of the blue, she comes up with conclusions that don't make any sense at all, and if I even mention this, she tells me I'm incapable of understanding so why bother, “let it go,” trust her. But, she said those same words to that couple before she babysat their 4 year- old girl. The child wandered off and its body was found 6 months later. Everyone believed some evil person was responsible. But I'm not even allowed to bring this up. To anyone, now that I think of it.
It bothers me, this telling me I can't understand her thinking, and that this comes up so often. I'm no genius, but she should know me better by now, not to belittle my intelligence, to at least have some respect for my viewpoints and feelings. I'm beginning to suspect that her love is too conditional because I find myself having to walk on eggshells, trying to figure out what she expects of me and what pleases her or not.
Friends have told me that a relationship like ours is the best, like, forever. They don't know that she has her “moments,” when I can see by her posture and the way she paces as I wait to hear what she'll say, as I’m getting vibes. Something is aggravating her, as she taps on the table, fidgets with the coffee cup. Sometimes, her hand will reach out, her fingertips touch mine, as if nothing else mattered before, as if I was getting forgiveness for some offense I didn't know I committed. (Is it only my imagination that I’m getting the silent treatment?) Honestly, she's so moody sometimes that you'd think that whatever displeases her causes all that's wrong in this world.
It feels good to be needed. (At least I think I am.) I don't know what I would do if she pulled away because of something I might do to displease her. God shows me that I'm appreciated, in her smiles and soft, gentle whisperings in that Michele Pfeiffer voice I've come to know so well, and in those personal, sideways glances; regular assurances of her love for me. She knows how very human I am, needing her fingers running through my hair, her voice, odor, soothing and caressing, pulling me away from danger, defending me from those who would harm me by word or deed. Dependable. (Even as I write this, we smile at each other, and she winks.) Without all of these things, there wouldn't be a relationship; it would be a fantasy. Like the song says: “I know, yes I know, hallelujah I just love her so.”
I'm glad that God isn't TOO loving, because then I might become suspicious of her reasons; too much attention I've seen displayed by unfaithful husbands. I don't feel, either, that I am adequate or obligated to respond in kind. God knows I feel inadequate enough. She never criticizes me to my face or passes judgment on me, and I am careful not to give her any reason to. She knows I already have enough SELF criticism for the both of us, and her silence on this speaks volumes. (Strangely, it is my friends and family who tell me not to be so hard on myself.)
She really is different from the rest of us. For instance, I wonder about her sense of humor; whether it’s really there. I could give you examples, but you have to be there, and I don't think you'd accept them, anyhow (Once I said something she didn't like, and she said, “Nobody likes a know-it-all,” and I said, “Yeah, just YOU remember that.” She didn't think that was respectful.)
All in all it's been good. We've supported each other through all kinds of my trials; she's been there with kind words and flowers. Sure, we've been disappointed in each other's inability to meet each other’s expectations, but so what‘? No relationships are perfect. We have, too, no illusions left about mortality and loss; we came to an understanding about those things eons ago. We know we won't be together “always”...nothing’s forever. At least, that's how I understand it, but I'm no mind reader, especially not hers.
Well, she said she'd never leave me. I told her that's what all the other gods said. She started pouting, on the verge of tears, because she'd never considered that I'd have the “audacity” to even suggest she wouldn’t be there for me. Once again, I was the one doing the reassuring, trying to make her understand that I was joking. But she said that I “was only half-kidding.”(Note to self: I have to be very careful as she does get very jealous.)
Oh my God I love her so, you'll never know...when she takes me in her arms, the world is bright, all right. For no matter how she is, I am hers, forever more.
And like I've said so often: Without all the tangible evidence of her love and caring, she'd just be my personal and wonderful fantasy.
It seems that everyone likes a “how we met” story, but ours wasn't all that special. Let's just say that I was at a rock-bottom place in my life, at the end of my rope. It didn't seem to matter whether or not I lived or died. I was lonely, hungry, and sleepless to the point of delirium. And then, she came along; comforting, gentle, with a voice like Marilyn Monroe on cream, with blue eyes I could happily drown in. Negative delirium turned into a positive delirium for her presence.
When my brother died last year, God was there to hold me and weep with me. For hours on end, I talked about my brother, the things he did, his sense of humor, the family stories about him and his innate goodness. I saw a surprise and pleasure in God's countenance as she found out these things she didn’t know. She said that she personally knew what it means never to be able to see someone ever again, and pointed out that humans have a hard time facing, as my brother did in his last months, that some things REALLY are hopeless.
To be honest, most of the time I can only guess at what God's thinking. Times, for instance, when she gets that inscrutable, perplexing look, that keeps me wondering if I can understand her after all of our time together. Like when, out of the blue, she comes up with conclusions that don't make any sense at all, and if I even mention this, she tells me I'm incapable of understanding so why bother, “let it go,” trust her. But, she said those same words to that couple before she babysat their 4 year- old girl. The child wandered off and its body was found 6 months later. Everyone believed some evil person was responsible. But I'm not even allowed to bring this up. To anyone, now that I think of it.
It bothers me, this telling me I can't understand her thinking, and that this comes up so often. I'm no genius, but she should know me better by now, not to belittle my intelligence, to at least have some respect for my viewpoints and feelings. I'm beginning to suspect that her love is too conditional because I find myself having to walk on eggshells, trying to figure out what she expects of me and what pleases her or not.
Friends have told me that a relationship like ours is the best, like, forever. They don't know that she has her “moments,” when I can see by her posture and the way she paces as I wait to hear what she'll say, as I’m getting vibes. Something is aggravating her, as she taps on the table, fidgets with the coffee cup. Sometimes, her hand will reach out, her fingertips touch mine, as if nothing else mattered before, as if I was getting forgiveness for some offense I didn't know I committed. (Is it only my imagination that I’m getting the silent treatment?) Honestly, she's so moody sometimes that you'd think that whatever displeases her causes all that's wrong in this world.
It feels good to be needed. (At least I think I am.) I don't know what I would do if she pulled away because of something I might do to displease her. God shows me that I'm appreciated, in her smiles and soft, gentle whisperings in that Michele Pfeiffer voice I've come to know so well, and in those personal, sideways glances; regular assurances of her love for me. She knows how very human I am, needing her fingers running through my hair, her voice, odor, soothing and caressing, pulling me away from danger, defending me from those who would harm me by word or deed. Dependable. (Even as I write this, we smile at each other, and she winks.) Without all of these things, there wouldn't be a relationship; it would be a fantasy. Like the song says: “I know, yes I know, hallelujah I just love her so.”
I'm glad that God isn't TOO loving, because then I might become suspicious of her reasons; too much attention I've seen displayed by unfaithful husbands. I don't feel, either, that I am adequate or obligated to respond in kind. God knows I feel inadequate enough. She never criticizes me to my face or passes judgment on me, and I am careful not to give her any reason to. She knows I already have enough SELF criticism for the both of us, and her silence on this speaks volumes. (Strangely, it is my friends and family who tell me not to be so hard on myself.)
She really is different from the rest of us. For instance, I wonder about her sense of humor; whether it’s really there. I could give you examples, but you have to be there, and I don't think you'd accept them, anyhow (Once I said something she didn't like, and she said, “Nobody likes a know-it-all,” and I said, “Yeah, just YOU remember that.” She didn't think that was respectful.)
All in all it's been good. We've supported each other through all kinds of my trials; she's been there with kind words and flowers. Sure, we've been disappointed in each other's inability to meet each other’s expectations, but so what‘? No relationships are perfect. We have, too, no illusions left about mortality and loss; we came to an understanding about those things eons ago. We know we won't be together “always”...nothing’s forever. At least, that's how I understand it, but I'm no mind reader, especially not hers.
Well, she said she'd never leave me. I told her that's what all the other gods said. She started pouting, on the verge of tears, because she'd never considered that I'd have the “audacity” to even suggest she wouldn’t be there for me. Once again, I was the one doing the reassuring, trying to make her understand that I was joking. But she said that I “was only half-kidding.”(Note to self: I have to be very careful as she does get very jealous.)
Oh my God I love her so, you'll never know...when she takes me in her arms, the world is bright, all right. For no matter how she is, I am hers, forever more.
And like I've said so often: Without all the tangible evidence of her love and caring, she'd just be my personal and wonderful fantasy.
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