I like to think I’m not romantic, that I’m “better” than that. but the reality is that I have a hard shell around my soft candy coating. I’m only this tough veneer because I try to protect myself.
On a day like today, fraught with so much past heartbreak, I wish for the sweeping gesture that I’m still loved and wanted. The thought is what matters, but instead of taking it that way, I read the card, with the “someone special” sentiment and felt the disappointment creep in.
I can get past the fact that I won’t see him today, that there isn’t a date night, or some expensive gift. This proves he’s trying, but it feels wrong: the card, that you could give to your neighbor, or grandma, says nothing about how he feels for me. The little chocolate “xo” when most people who know me, know I hate Hershey’s chocolate.
I know it is so petty, but it’s like he doesn’t pay attention. I feel starved for attention. I get a few minutes once a week. It’s not enough. He doesn’t see me anymore. When I see those words, they sound so cliche’, but they’re correct.
He had a fire for me once. A passion I hadn’t had before, and it was so wonderful. Now I have embers in it’s place, if I’m lucky. Maybe a cinder is more accurate.
I have his loyalty, and I don’t know why that stoic love feels lonely sometimes. Why do I need the passion, the devotion, the undying need? Do I unconsciously want to copy the example my parents set? Am I unrealistic, like most women, because we’re spoonfed some idea of romance?
Maybe it’s my own insecurity, explaining why I need reassurance. Maybe I take too much from the physical time we spend together, and find myself straining to feel without him here.
I can’t seem to picture a future without him. I cannot picture our future together. It’s like a long dark hallway, and I’m lost. I question whether again, I’m staying because I love him or because of some other reason.