Sometimes the right answer is not the obvious one, nor the one steeped in conventional wisdom. Personally, I’ve always had an issue with “conventional wisdom” because they’re developed by consensus rather than common… sensus… (just go with it), and, as we know, the “masses are asses”.
So, the Saint and I had a bit of a row a couple of weeks ago and I left, again. That makes it the third time (Saints Row the Third?) and, just as before, it was only a few days before we were both looking at the situation and saying, “Well, that’s not right…”
My first response in any conflict like that is to try to figure out what my culpability is. This, apparently, is an utterly bizarre and strange thing. Yes, he had slipped into a headspace of complete irrationality and was not in a condition to be negotiated with in any form or fashion, but I had to accept that I had triggered some of that response by letting him believe for a moment that he was not the most important person in the world to me.
How do you convince someone who has learned to distrust words that there is no power in the ‘verse could stop you from loving them? What do you do? What do you say?
I offered up the only thing of real value that I have: the rest of my life.
As the massive nontraditionalist that I am, I popped the question first. I felt pretty confident in the answer since there were a few little slips of the tongue recently, but I admit to a certain trepidation and nervousness anyway, especially in light of the row we’d just had. After all, I did move out… and we were on the precipice of a really bad scene…
But in the end, that’s not what matters. What matters is that when we’re together, when he’s with me, I feel stronger, healthier, happier than I ever have in my life. These little moments of fear – the ones that we all have at some point or another – are such a small fraction of our total time together that, if they weren’t so loud, could easily be ignored. How enormously powerful is that joy the rest of the time? There’s a wisdom that says that you don’t marry the man you can live with, you marry the man you can’t live without. I’m not such a delicate flower that I wouldn’t or couldn’t live without him if I had to, but I’d just as soon not because it sucks.
I never expected someone to come to me ready-made and perfect, because how boring would that be? This is going to be a hell of a challenge, and some monster-slaying must be done, but it’s completely worth it to me.
Still poly? Yeah, I suppose, but I don’t know when I”d have time for anyone else. If he’ll have me, then I’ve found the Carl to my Ellie, the Gomez to my Morticia. What more could a girl ask for than someone who will build and dress up in crazy costumes for the heck of it, someone who will wear costume horns around the house just because it’s Sunday, or who will run out and grab samosas to eat while I finish my homework? We play video games together, love the same movies, can talk about those movies, can pun together, can snuggle together, and he takes my freakiness as a plus instead of a point to tolerate…
It’s past nine months together, over seven of those spent living together. Ups and downs and sideways notwithstanding, how amazing is this!
Amazing enough that I want it indefinitely.
“Forever could never be long enough for me,
To feel that I’ve had long enough with you…”
I’m so certain that I will shout it out, beyond all chance of obfuscation:
Craig Swain, will you do me the honor of being my husband?
UPDATED 4/11: He said yes. ^_^
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