Let the romance begin

Ok, the title may sound a bit mushy, I know. But, after all, what did you expect after last post? It all begins with a kiss, right? That’s what happened to me, to us, as well. It all began with that kiss.

A Summer romance by Nick Kenrick

I was still pretty afraid of so many things, but confusion was dissolving.

I told everything to my therapist, of course, as soon as we met. “I’m glad about what’s happening, but I still have so many fears.” “Which ones?” she asked.

“Oh gosh, where do I start from?” “Let’s start from the biggest ones, for example”.

I wasn’t sure about whether he really knew what he wanted from me and from us. I had seen him get tired of so many girls, without any apparent reason, for the last ten years. I had seen passion burst suddenly and violently in him, passion for girls, friends, activities, interests, hobbies and then I’d seen that same passion extinguish with equal rapidity and coldness. And again, for no apparent reason.

“I’m afraid I’m going to be the umpteenth one. The millionth girl he can’t take his mind off of for a while and who’s then served all of his indifference, with him not even being able to explain it.”

“There’s no way to be guaranteed that everything is going to turn out the way you want it to. Nobody can ever give us that warranty.”

I nodded to my therapist’s wisdom.

The chance of him behaving like an asshole with me was out of my control and I hate when things are out of my control. But all in all, there’s no way out: in a couple’s relationship, you’re half of the team, so at least 50% of variables are out of your control (welcome back Nerd-Me).

For some reason, even the most obvious evidence you’ve never been able to see from a constructive perspective sounds different when it’s your therapist to say it.

I was not going to have any insurance that all was going to be ok, because half of my odds, at least, were depending on someone who wasn’t me. But, what the hell, I was happy with what was going on between us, I could have kept on enjoying it, ignoring any possible negative development. That’s when, for the first time in my life, lack of control tasted a little different than it always had. I didn’t have total control over the outcome and duration of our affair and this implied the possibility of failure. At the same time, however, it meant that I could shrug off my shoulders half of the responsibility. And again, for the first time in my life, not being responsible for it all felt a little soothing.

From that moment on, I felt free to gradually let go, to totally let go. And, surprisingly, it felt good. It felt so good.

The time that followed was the best I had had in those last months, it probably was the best I had ever had.

I’m not going to indulge much on corny details, but the following weeks were pretty much what you can imagine: neverending holding tight when together, neverending online chats when far from each other, counting the hours to meet again, unable to stop thinking about him.

We made out, we made love, we even made plans.

I felt loved in a way that I did not remember. I felt good, in a way that I hadn’t even dared to wish for. And, most of all, I felt free.

That’s weird how getting close to someone else and placing some of my future in his hands, instead of driving me crazy and increasing my instability as I had imagined, made me feel finally settled and free instead.

 


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