I have just broken a cardinal rule. I have smoked in front of DF. Well technically, not in front of him, but he knows I’m doing it and I’m at his house so I might as well have. Now when I tell you what caused me to break this rule you may laugh, but I am currently in the throws of a mini panic attack.
On Sunday we got up and he is a get up and go kind of guy while I am a wake up slowly kind of girl. So he got up and went. He turned on the music loud and started cleaning and organizing. I went to go and get something and when I came back the bed was stripped. So I calmly took my book downstairs and then outside to get a little peace and quiet. He told me later that he wished I had told him since he would rather have me with him than be by himself. That was nice, right?
Then I told a friend about it and he agreed and said that I should have told DF that I started a little more slowly.
I told DF about the conversation. And DF said that I needed to understand that what makes me happy makes him happy and he wants me to be happy. And then he said that I needed to tell him what makes me happy all the time. That is also nice, right?
The problem is that I have never had a man wonder what makes me happy and want to do it. It does not even occur to me to voice my needs. Well, I take that back. I consider doing that for about as long as it takes someone to skip a rock across a pond and then just like the rock, the thought sinks. It is fleeting and my main concern has always been to make them happy, (of course that translates into: make them happy so they don’t hit me or yell at me or make me feel like a slug under a rock.) And now I have this wonderful man who is truly concerned about me and appreciates me and wants to make me happy and I honestly don’t know what to do. I froze. He asked me to tell him from now on and I froze. And then he went to shower and I cried. And then I finally came upstairs after I stalled cleaning in the kitchen and I couldn’t breathe.
So here I am, on the front porch, trying to gather my wits about me with vodka on one side, computer in front of me and cigarettes on the other. The thought of voicing my wants and needs and having them met is somehow terrifying. I think maybe because I have tried it before and always been laughed at or dismissed. Honestly, I am so terrified right now that I want to run. If his car wasn’t blocking mine and I didn’t know it would hurt his feelings, I would leave a note and go home right now. Or maybe I would keep driving…Who knew that a healthy relationship could be just as scary as an unhealthy one?
