My ex-boyfriend sent me this quote once. It read, “If she doesn’t scare the hell out of you a little, she’s not the one.” To which I responded, I must be the one then. Clearly, I was wrong. Unless of course, there’s something in our future we know nothing about… but I digress.
I think that the women he dated before me are quite different than me. I never really asked much about them. I imagined they would be well dressed, professional. They probably ate at expensive restaurants, wore designer suits and adorned their bodies with jewels from Tiffany & co. Their nails always perfectly manicured. You’d never catch them without makeup on, unless they just left the day spa after receiving a facial. I’m fairly certain that the only outdoor activity they did was lounge by the pool at a plush resort. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with living such a rich lifestyle. In fact, I’ve partaken in all of these activities myself when the mood struck me.
The difference is that I’m much more of a nature girl, a free spirit. I’m as simple as I am complicated. Although I’ve had the pleasure of staying in ritzy places, such as the penthouse suite in the Bellagio, and dined with celebrities and millionaires, I’m much more at home swimming in the ocean, climbing a mountain, or jumping in my car for a last minute, completely unplanned road trip.
I derive great pleasures from philosophical, thought provoking conversations. I am fascinated by intellectuals with depth and complexity. I am an activist and quite passionate when I see things that are wrong in the world, even if it puts me in the line of fire sometimes. I have deep rooted faith, but I rarely go to church. More than anything, I am as passionate as I am intricate.
I think being so different from his comfort zone terrified him, but it also intrigued him. I allowed myself to be vulnerable with him. I loved him and I don’t think he couldn’t quite understand why. I also pushed him. Whenever I could, I dug deep into his soul because that is what fascinated me about him most. Not the surface level stuff that everyone else sees. It was the rich man that lingered underneath his skin.
Sometimes it was so easy. His secrets and deepest thoughts would just burst out of him like a wild river rushing from his lips to my ears. Other times, it was like prying open a steel vault hidden underneath hardened concrete at the bottom of an ocean. Either way, I felt entranced and enamoured. When it was easy, I knew he trusted me and I felt honored. When it was difficult, I was desperate to know all there was to know about him, longing to tear him apart and get inside his being. I secretly relished in the challenge that was him.
It had to be petrifying the closer I got to his soul, because it mortified me the closer he got to mine. He was so good at getting to mine. All the things I yearned for, he did. He asked questions, but not just any questions. He had a way about him that made me want to tell him all the secrets in the world. Yet… at times I didn’t. It scared me to think that if he knew all of me that he would just walk away like so many before. I wanted so desperately to reveal myself, and so I did… piece by piece. There was something about him that dug into the deepest parts of my heart. He would ask something simple and it would trigger memories and ever so often I would choke up, with tears in my eyes. It’s something I hadn’t experienced in years. The way he was able to expose me and I was grateful to him for it. You see, to have someone love you so much that they want to know all that you are and to love them so much to want to reveal the very core of your being… that is pure, immaculate love. It is exceptional. I think back sometimes, maybe if I hadn’t been so scared to lose him, I would have revealed myself much sooner, and maybe I wouldn’t have lost him. Certainly other factors came into play, but oh the irony of it all…
It was so effortless and laborious to love that man and I would fall in love with him all over again, every day, for the rest of our lives, but this time, I would do it better.