The Things That Stay

they don't tell you about the things that stay. No warnings.

"It gets worse before it gets better."
"You need some time alone."
"You need to get out there and have fun!"
"For every 6 months you dated, it takes 1 month to get over."

Sure, they tell you what you already know. What you have told your friends before, when you saw them broken on the floor.

They don't tell you that the next time a man raises his voice at you, you'll wince. Even worse, if you're both alone, you'll take a step back.  They don't tell you, so you dig to not be afraid, to stand your ground with a facade of bravery. And nothing bad happens. Because he is not the one before.

They don't tell you that when you new boyfriend goes out to drink, that you'll spend the night wondering if he'll be home in an hour or in five hours. If he'll text you just to say he never wants to go home. They don't tell you, so your shocked by the pain of staring at your phone in paralyzed fear. But the text doesn't come. And he comes home on time. Because he is not the one before.


They don't tell you how wary you will be of this new boyfriend when he drinks. Watching him for warning signs of losing control, drinking in excess, drinking in anger. You wonder, no, fear being with another man who develops an uncontrollable problem. But he knows when to put the glass down and go home, and he never blames you for a drinking problem that doesn't exist, because he is not the one before.

They don't tell you how hard it will be to not eye your new partner every time he is on his phone. That you'll have to unlearn the paranoia and the mistrust. That the best thing you can do is pray that you'll never find photos and conversations that could ruin marriages and lives. Like the ones you found before. And you won't. Because he is not the one before.

They don't tell you about the fight you'll have with yourself about remaining independent. How long did you work for it? How hard did you gnash your teeth to drag your broken body up off the ground, shaking as you come to your feet? And now part of you wants to soften for the Right Love. Which you did in the previous life, but he was the Wrong. Reminders encircle your life from the last time you took down your wall. Part of you wants to lash and scream for the strength you had to muster all on your own. But you will find compromise, and you will melt into him and be strong together, because he is not the one before.

They don't tell you how clear it will be that you've found the last man you'll ever date. They don't tell you that you had to suffer and be torn apart to know. How can you recognize the warmth of light if you've never sat in darkness? It will be easy. It will flow as natural as the river. He will be the perfect compliment, and there will be no hard edges that scrape and cut into each other. And it will be your greatest Love. Because he is not the one before.

2017.

I was thinking about canceling.

I am fire. I could scorch the Earth on my own. I took what felt like an eternity to dig deep within myself and be my own home. I'm comfortable and confident alone; my life is mine, and I live it for no other. So the idea of opening myself up to someone again was...unpleasant. I didn't feel like I needed it. I wasn't looking for anyone or anything. I was already full.

So as the morning passed, I thought about making something up. "I had to reschedule a client" or "I'm not feeling well". I'd done it plenty of times before, when I realized that the possible happy outcome wasn't enchanting enough. But something kept me from doing it this time. Something I remembered about the way he looked at me. When his eyes met mine, they didn't move. Every time. They bore into me, and I wasn't afraid. I didn't look away. I knew he could see more of me than I usually allowed. The melancholy that can only come from heartbreak swirled together with the self-sufficient light that's born from inner peace. He could see it, and I could see him transfixed by it. So I didn't back out of our day date.

He was picking me up on a bike. I've never been on a bike before, and he might not have realized what a big deal it was. Trust begets intimacy, and I was about to trust him with my whole life. After knowing him a few days. Skip past my heart, here's my mortality, in your hands. Keep it well. I didn't even hesitate. I wanted to give it to him. The same thing that stopped me from canceling our plans urged me to put myself in his care. Something about him, that gushed out of him and hit me like waves. I wondered if others could feel it pouring from him. It was warm, and it grazed my lips, pulling them into a smile. It was loud. It echoed in my chest. I had to be around him. I had to keep these plans. I had to stand in his light.

I've been holding myself statuesque, as cold and hard as marble for months. When I got on the back of his bike and wrapped my arms around him, I softened. I sensed a part of myself that I hadn't seen in a long time. That was it. I knew I wasn't going to cancel any plans we made in the future. I wasn't going to back away for safety. For self-preservation. I let the realization sink in as we zoomed down the sunny streets. This man had come into my life at a very specific time, and I can't peel myself away from him. Maybe to learn another lesson about life, or myself, or for something I can't yet imagine. He is fire and I am fire.

 - yours