Kissing in the Supermarket
It’s still weird to say “I love you.” The words are old friends, well worn and comfortable. I say them all the time – to my family. Now I’m saying them to someone new, someone who may have the label “family,” but for now is simply “boyfriend.” But that’s not what makes it weird.
We hold hands in the supermarket and I don’t mind when he kisses the back of my neck. Where before I abhorred PDA, now I smile. Behavior I scoffed at or might have called “clingy” doesn’t give me a second thought. After all, we both have our separate space, our separate lives, but when we’re together, well, we enjoy it. What’s wrong with that?
I keep waiting for the warning lights in my brain, that little voice saying “This isn’t going to work,” even if I don’t quite know why just yet. I tell myself it’s insecurity, but deep inside I never think that’s true. After all, doubt is a familiar feeling, old and trusted. Usually I hang in there anyway, comfortable with the doubt, waiting for the why that always comes. Oh, our senses of humor don’t match. Oh, he’s too arrogant to fully appreciate me. Oh, he’s too directionless compared to where I am in my life right now. That’s not going to work. So I say goodbye before it gets deep. No harm, no foul, or so I always hope.
That’s what’s weird. It’s not the lack of doubt. There’s plenty of that. Always is with a brain wired up like mine. It’s the lack of a feeling of doubt. There are no warning lights, no claxons sounding, no little voice to make me squirm at public displays of affection. It may seem like hair-splitting, but intellectual doubt is a far cry from the deep gut feeling that always warned me off. It’s the difference between knowing and thinking. Our minds gather more information than we can possibly think about, but that doesn’t mean the extra is just lost. It goes into the pot and gets stirred around until we can taste the flavor of it, and as with taste, we don’t have to think about whether we like it or not, even if we couldn’t list all the ingredients. We just know. This is intuition.
So when I say “I love you,” there is no “but” behind that sentence. It’s just … “I love you.” And it’s so weird to be without that feeling of doubt, my dear and trusted friend. I almost don’t trust my trust. (Yes, I know.) Rather, I don’t know what to do with it, how to process this new emotional experience. It’s like a new guest at the dinner table. Do they eat meat or dairy? Are they allergic to shellfish? Will they be offended if I offer them wine? If I don’t offer? How can I know? I’m a planner, damnit! How am I supposed to plan for this? (Yes, I know.)
In case you haven’t guessed, I’m in a relationship, my first committed relationship, I might add. Thus the reduction in posting here on the blog. I’m still navigating this strange rearrangement in priorities as regards to time. I have every intention to continue blogging. I have every intention to figuring out how all of this relates to Buddhism (everything does), even if I can’t quite articulate it right now. I just wanted the universe to know I’m happy today. Cheers!