Random, Muddled Musings about Relationships

Last night, Kevin and I spent several very pleasant hours with four of our friends, and we went to bed with smiles on our faces. This morning, we woke up and went to church, and I spend the Sunday school hour chatting with another friend, a great treat because we attend two separate services and never see each other.

Then we came home, ate lunch, and retired for a nap. And we woke up, and Kevin got to work on some important things. And the house is so quiet.

Now, hear me: I love quiet. But this quiet—it's not a comfortable quiet. It's the quiet left behind by the absence of something good, something intangible, a you-can't-quite-put-your-finger-on-it sort of something, a void that Must Be Filled, but because you don't know what is missing, you don't know what will fit. It's the quiet that makes you want to turn on every light in the house.

And so I wanted to call someone, to talk about nothing, just for a hand to hold. But I didn't. I thought "Hey, I'll call ________. That'd be great. I'd feel much better then." And then I thought "Oh, no you don't." And then I thought "Now wait. Why not?" And my dumb reply was "Because. Shut up. Just don't." And that's as far as I got with myself. I'm so stubborn.

And I started to think about why I refuse to satisfy my urge for relationship so often. It seems that when I am at my most vulnerable and most need to reach out to the people in my life who support me is when I am least likely to go to them, because I feel that I am at my least attractive and don't want to be burdensome or to be mistaken for a Needy Person. In fact, I almost deleted everything I just wrote because I'm deathly afraid to reveal that I sometimes feel this way, because I don't want to be burdensome or be mistaken for a Needy Person. (Have you ever heard The Cranberries' "Ode to My Family"? When Dolores O'Riordan whimpers the line "Do you like me? Do you like me standing there?" Damn. That song kills me.)

Why is it so taboo in our culture to need each other? (Is it? Or should I shut up now before tip my weirdo hand any farther?) Why does it feel so ... dirty? Is it common to feel wholly unworthy of the friends in our lives and to feel like "I should just leave so-and-so alone today, so I don't make a pest of myself"? Is it common to grit one's teeth against the sting of loneliness and bear it solo because the thought of being seen, even by trusted companions, in weak and unattractive moments is just plain terrifying? Is this just garden-variety fear of rejection? Are we really unattractive to the people who love us when we are weak?

I mean, I think the people I love are positively stunning when their weaknesses are on display to me. And I can think of no greater honor than "Hi, Amy. I really need some company right now. Do you have a few minutes?" I also fancy myself to be far more unique than I really am.

And another thing.

I hate that most of my friends don't know each other and live in such diverse places that they probably never can know each other. There's really no cure for this, and I'm just venting. But wouldn't it be wonderful if everyone you loved loved everyone else you loved?

And another thing.

What the heck is wrong with dtr talks??? I had a boyfriend once. He was actually a secret boyfriend, for reasons that are for another post. Before we were a secret couple, we were secret friends. He flirted a lot, and pushed me away just as much. I was so confused! But when I hinted that maybe we ought to talk about what we were doing openly, he mocked me, asking if I needed a dtr talk, like dtr talks are for kids and stupid people (dtr stands for defining the relationship). Little did I know, he was just scared. But I still have a complex from that interaction. What's wrong with sitting down with people and saying, "________, this is what you mean to me. I think you're great, and here's why"?

Here's what I think. I think we should say wildly nice things to each other, and give little random gifts to each other, and say "I love you" when we mean it, to everyone we love and not just our sexual partners and immediate families. I think we should tell people how beautiful they are. I think we should tell people when we're thinking of them, write affectionate notes to people and leave them in mail boxes, let them know when we feel their absence and that their presence in our lives is important to us, tell them when we miss them, even if we saw them last week and it seems totally silly. (Am I the only one who misses people I just saw?)

I'm sorry. I know people don't like to hear shoulds. I don't like to hear shoulds. Anyway. That's what's on my mind tonight.