Guest Blogger: Nyx from nyxynotions.blogspot.com
Time and time again, I get asked how I know I’m in love.
And time and time again, I ponder the answer.
I don’t even know where my socks are half the time, so how on earth could I possibly write about something that is, supposedly, enduring and everlasting? My studies in anthropology haven’t prepared me in any sort of way – it’s mostly regarded as some sort of emotional link that affects the way people act towards one another. So how am I supposed to justify myself when I say I’m in love, seeing as how I have no proof that what I’m feeling is, in all actuality, love?
Well. I can’t. Justify it, that is. At least, not in logical terms.
I’ve only dated three boys in my entire life. And I’ve claimed to love all of them. So how do I know it’s real this time with my Pookie (he hates it when I call him that)?
Boyfriend #1 was a nice guy. A total momma’s boy. He was sweet, and I found myself wanting to do anything to please him. So I overlooked it when he thought that bringing me to Hooters would be a spectacular date. And I overlooked his (at times) racist comments, and the way he ordered me around. I was heartbroken when he broke up with me, and walked around for the next year doing a pretty spectacular zombie impersonation.
Four years after we broke up (yes, I waited four years! I was upset! Don’t judge me!) I started dating boyfriend #2. He was a sports fanatic, and treated me well…at first. I went to so many hockey games with him, and we bonded over Flyers trivia and his niece (who remains, to this day, one of the cutest little girls I’ve ever seen). However, I found myself changing. I began to look up things on Wikipedia so that I’d be able to pretend that I knew more than I really did. My personality began to disappear, and shortly after the ‘magic’ of a new relationship faded. We both eventually wound up miserable, and when we broke up it was more of a relief than a heartbreak.
And so now I’m with boyfriend #3. I’ve known him for almost eight years – we met in high-school, but we didn’t really become close until shortly before me and boyfriend #2 broke up. I had never considered him dateable material – he was just my friend. And then, one crazy day in Ireland, we both looked at each other and we realized – we had been under each others’ noses all along.
He doesn’t care that I don’t know who scored the third goal in the last Flyers game. He would never think to take me to Hooters. He treats me with respect, and knows that if he ever even tried to order me around I’d smack him. Because, if there’s anything I learned from boyfriends #1 and #2, it’s that you need to be able to figure out who you are before you can get into a serious relationship. You need to be able to stand on your own two feet and learn to say ‘this is who I am, if you don’t like it, then suck it!’
So how does this all tie in with how I can justify my affirmation of my love for Pookie?
He knows me. I know him. And even when he makes me so mad that I could just strangle him with whatever object is readily available, in the back of my mind I’m thinking that my life is so much better with him in it. He’s a constant hum in the back of my mind throughout the day, and he knows all my little quirks and personality flaws.
And I, in turn, know his. It basically boils down to this – I know his shit, and he knows mine.
And we’re both ok with that. We’re ok knowing that we’re going to argue, and butt heads, and we’re ok with the fact that relationships? They’re work. We understand that we’re going to settle into the “oh it’s you again” phase.
Because at the end of the day? I still admire the person he is. I still can’t believe that he wants to be with me. I still curl my toes when he kisses me. I still feel secure when he holds me. And, as far as I know, he feels the same.
I love you Pookie.