subject line: honest moments of nausea.


So many places 

We love each other. As more than friends. But it’s dysfunctional in a way that I can now say, with confidence will never result in the healthy long term relationship either of us wants. Since the moment you walked into that bar in that far flung place and started eating off my plate - the indignation, a stranger(!) - eating off my plate – I knew you were going to change me. I read more. You read like voracious boa constrictor, devouring everything. I have to have something to tell you about. I now love reading the things you love. Though I probably only understand them 50% of the time. My friends who’ve known me for decades, but have seen me less over the years tell me I’m softer now. That the hard exterior I sheltered under for the 15 years they’ve known me is gone. Ironically, I also talk about sex more openly and freely even though we never had it. I cry more. SO much more. Usually the tears are driven by gratitude in specific moments, many with you. Your constant questions, about my day, my job, my friends, my past, it’s exhausting. It’s always made me uncomfortable. I get anxiety before coming home to you that I needed to sort an interesting answer. Something for you to listen to. Eventually I realized it wasn’t really about that. You introduced me to four people, four of your closest friends, who are now essential to my life. People that help me breathe easier, that elicit pure joy and openness that I’m not sure I felt before you. For all your craziness, these people have stuck by you for a long time, decades in some cases. When I get sad that you aren’t going to love me “that way”, I come back to this, that I somehow got chosen into this select, awesome group. That I’ve gotten to hear your deepest fears, darkest secrets and most angst-ridden regrets and shared my own. So many times I’ve tried to tell you to stop framing the bad decisions as regrets, rather as learnings, insights on how we are all moving forward. The same logic I’ve applied to flip the fear that I wasn’t pretty, skinny or smart enough to make your cut, into gratitude that we have this powerful friendship. But. In my most honest moments that make me nauseous with sadness, I admit, despite all of this reframing and silver lining, my favorite place on the planet is curled up in the warm place in the crook of your arm, head on your chest, your breath in my hair.