This is a dangerous post for me to write.
I write it now, at the beginning of my recovery, because it's the beginning of the story and I want to tell all of it, as it happened. But to do so I have to remember the good times I had with her. I have to remember the best times I've had in my life. Doing that threatens to throw me back into romanticization, sympathy, and despair. I will have to do what I can with that.
We met online, the way everybody does now. Zoe sought me out first and I was taken with her very quickly; the other women I was in contact with faded into the background immediately in comparison to this surprising, beautiful, quirky, interesting one. Our communications seemed to be progressing at a good but normal pace and I was excited that I'd be meeting her soon. Then she disappeared from the site and ceased communicating with me, which was disappointing but easily expectable behavior in the world of online dating, certainly nothing to get too upset about.
Two weeks later she texted me again, asking if my search was still ongoing. It was! In fact, my enthusiasm for dating had been half-hearted since her departure. She explained to me that she had been dating someone else, someone who had insisted she take down her profile very quickly, and that she had ended things with him because, in public, he would openly show interest in every woman around except her. She also told me that she felt regret in not pursuing a relationship with me instead, and asked if I'd give it another try. Of course I would, she didn't owe me anything yet and I didn't feel wronged in the slightest. This, by the way, is the only time, ever, that she asked for another chance. After that, everything was on me.
Notice what I was asked to believe about Zoe's brief absence and return: that this guy, whoever he is, wanted to move fast with their relationship and insisted that she remove her profile after only a few dates, but that once she had done so, his eye started roving almost immediately. Now, there are all sorts of men out there, and some of them might indeed lose interest quickly once the chase is over, but given what I now know about both her rapid attachment techniques and her paranoid levels of jealousy, I'd be a fool to take that story at face value anymore.
At the time, though, it was easy to believe.
We started dating, a lot. And we started texting, really a lot. I wasn't used to such heavy communication, but I liked it. I felt very quickly that I didn't have to hold anything back with Zoe, and indeed I started noticing that I'd better not hold anything back; sometimes I'd detect signs she was upset, in the form of withdrawal, if I failed to respond to something in a few hours. The natural response, especially if this pattern is new to you, is to chalk this up to insecurity, which at the time seemed cute and even succeeded in flattering me; I told myself that she'd only be this way if she was really, really into me—her insecurity had the effect of easing my insecurity.
She told me in this period that one of the things she most valued in relationships was consistency. I marked this in my mind and resolved to behave as consistently as I could with her, to maintain communication and affection at levels we had both come to expect. Very early in our relationship, within one month, I was already learning how not to disappoint Zoe, and even learning just a little bit about what the consequences of disappointing her were.
We spent our first months together in the coziest, loveliest bubble I've ever known.
There is a selfie I took from inside the bubble, of the two of us lying on a blanket outdoors next to each other; I am smiling, somewhat goofily, at the camera I'm operating in outstretched hand; her face is turned towards mine, gazing at me with perfect devotion. We look very similar to each other in this photo, like one of those brother-and-sister couples. A late-afternoon thunderstorm had managed to turn the light unusually golden; her skin and hair and smile radiate calm and satisfaction and well-being in this, our first photo together.
On our dates we'd sometimes encounter people I know, people who'd be in my ear the next day, excited and hopeful and telling me they'd never seen me quite like this before. They were right.
Older couples whispered "so cute" when they saw us holding hands in the supermarket. Strangers approached our table in restaurants and commented on how adorable and happy and completely into-each-other we looked. "Don't ever change", they'd tell us, and I never wanted to.
I am a person with a very tender turn of mind. For me, events like these naturally seem very consequential; because some of them happened together in a short amount of time I slipped easily into thinking that this girlfriend, still new and mostly unknown to me, was fated to be in my life and that we were uniquely suited to be with each other. It was very difficult for me, almost impossible, to leave someone with whom I share this kind of history, salted as it was with moments of romance and significance.
During her frequent work trips we'd talk all night, she in her layover hotel, me laying on the floor in my darkened bedroom, staring at the ceiling and laughing like a teenager at the hilarious, utterly unexpected things I'd hear, the deadpan jokes and clever wordplay she is very good at. She brought out in those conversations the best of my wit and charm and humor too.
I've never felt so young, not even when I actually was that young.
No comments:
Post a Comment