Truly, Madly, Deeply, Part II: The Strange, Sweet Story of a Grrl and Her Ape

So.  In my last post, I dropped the bombshell that I had met someone.  If you haven’t read it yet, take five ten fifteen how ever long you need and look it over. Go on. Do it. Otherwise, this post won’t be as full an experience. Done?  Good.

As we last checked in with the grrl, she was anxiously awaiting a visit from her ape.  When he told me (the grrl.  Try to keep up) he had bought the tickets, I was jubilant.  In the back of my mind, I was afraid that he would back out at the last minute.  I couldn’t quite believe he actually WANTED to see me, so much so that he would fly a thousand miles to meet me.  He hates flying as much as I do; he hates change as much as I do; I was floored that he was actually going through with it.  With my history, I have a hard time believing that I’m worth someone making that effort, especially someone as averse to traveling as he is.

Once we had establish that yes, he was coming for realz, I had to do something I hate:  Clean.  I absolutely loathe it.  Plus, I suck at it.  Not a good combination.  I’m not comfortable having people in my house, not even good friends, and here I was eagerly offering Idle Primate to share my bed.  My friends were floored by the fact that I was letting him stay in my house.  Frankly, so was I.

As I prepared for his visit, doubts started flooding my mind.  I am a dynamo online. I’m funny and witty and charming as hell.  I am MUCH better with the written word than I am with the spoken word, and I was worried that all my neuroses and quirks and idiosyncrasies would be annoying in person–not endearing.  The demons were whispering in my ear that once Idle Primate spent some time with me, he would realize that he had made a mistake.  I didn’t want to disappoint him.  One thing that made it marginally easier for me not to panic was that I knew he had similar worries about disappointing me.

We have some of the same life experiences, which means we have similar issues.  We also both think of ourselves as the caretaker in a relationship, which makes for a very interesting dynamic.  In the past, I’ve tended to be with people who, in the long run, didn’t want to be with me as much as I wanted to be with them, and then my concubine nature would take over and I would do whatever it took to make them happy.  Idle has a similar personality, which is actually refreshing.  We both wanted to make the other happy, which is much better than one person doing most of the work.

As his visit neared, we started to post more on each other’s FB walls.  Mostly videos, and mostly ones that one of us found funny.  We have a rule that we had to listen to the entire song if the other person posted it on our wall. As we both have devious minds, it led to lots of mirth, especially as neither of sleeps very much and one of us has OCD (that would be me). For example, as I said in my last post, I loved the hair bands of the ’80s such as Cinderella and Warrant.  My poor Idle, well, let’s just say he was a punk back then and leave it at that.  In our serious moments, he posted the video Home by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros.  I had heard the song before and hadn’t been immediately captured by it, but through my new lens of love, the song had a resonance that it lacked before.  I felt such a strong connection with Idle, being ‘with’ him was like being home.  I wrote a brilliant essay many years ago (as it’s not online, you’ll have to trust me.  It’s quite possibly the best thing I’ve ever written.  Pulitzer Prize worthy) about how I found ‘home’ in people, rather than places, and I felt it strongly with Idle.

I was in a tizzy because nothing about our relationship was like anything I’d ever experienced before. I’ve loved and been in love, yes, but this was something entirely different. I was different in this relationship, and it flummoxed me. As I have said, I am a control freak with OCD who likes to map things out in excruciating detail, think things over (too much), and then slowly, agonizingly make a decision.  Not this time. We went from taking things off Facebook to meeting in real life in roughly three weeks. For me, that’s a blink of the eye. Now, arguably, I’ve been working all my life to reach this point (much like I talked about getting cats for years before I suddenly went out and got them. Come to think of it, I did the same with my first tattoo. Protip: Do not get a tattoo at midnight at the only shop open. Trust me on this), but it still is a relatively short amount of time.

But, as time tends to do, it seemed forever to get from talking about meeting until the day he actually arrived. A funny aside, my brother left me a message on my machine saying that my niece had a band camp recital that evening, and she would really like me to be there as she wrote one of the songs. No, he couldn’t tell me about it weeks earlier because that’s not the way he rolls. I did tell him I would ask Idle if he felt up to going, but not to expect us.  The fact that I was comfortable with the idea of introducing Idle to my family, any member of my family, is also a first. In the past, I have kept my love/sex life completely separated from my family (and friends, really) for a variety of reasons. With Idle, I wanted him to meet my brother and my friends (he got to meet two of the latter, more on that later) as I wanted him to be a part of my day-to-day life.

By the way, the second video is of Friday as done by Stephen Colbert. I am one of the last people with internet access who has not heard the original, but this became one of our songs. Why? Because he was flying out here on a Friday. Yes, the tuff grrl got all silly and mushy with her ape, just as do most people in love*. It was a bit disconcerting to me to realize a few things–like I love the fact that he is big (tall and sturdy) and strong. Why is that disconcerting? Because as a feminist, I am supposed to be able to take care of myself, thankyewverymuch. I am getting ahead of myself as usual, though, so hold that thought. I’ll return to it later. Maybe.

I was freaking out pretty badly before Idle flew out. He was, too, but not as volubly as I was. We both had thoughts of disappointing the other or not clicking in person or whatnot. The not-clicking part, though, was always on the other person’s part. I was convinced he would not click with me (or more to the point, I knew I clicked with him), and he was convinced I would not click with him. That’s not exactly right. We both thought we would click, but worst case scenario would be as how I described it.  And, because we’ve both been hurt terribly by that in the past, each of us grew increasingly skittish as his arrival date neared.

I was filled with thoughts of him and anticipating his visit.  I didn’t talk much about him with anyone in part because I was having such difficulty understanding exactly what was happening myself, but also because I was feeling a bit sheepish about the whole thing.  I’ve been very vocal in the past that I wanted no part of a relationship, no way, no how.  And, when I started allowing that maybe I wanted one, I insisted that I would not live with the person, that we wouldn’t see each other every day, and that I would be very sedate in the pacing of said relationship.  Still, I didn’t see that I could be in one or that there was someone who could tolerate being with me daily, let alone embrace it.   In addition, dating wasn’t a priority as I had many plans as to what my next step should be.  Meeting someone was not in the top ten, I thought.  But, at the same time, I kept thinking about dating and wanting to meet someone.  It was frustrating.  When I told my therapist about it not being a priority, she said it sounded like it was, even if I didn’t want it to be.

Yeah.  That.

As I drove to the airport, I had difficulty concentrating on the road because all I could think about was meeting Idle.  I am not a good driver in the best of times, and let’s just say it was a good thing the traffic was relatively light.  I got there early as is my wont, and I had a book to keep me company.  I was a mess inside, but I know how to play it cool, and I kept my countenance unruffled.  Hey, I’m Asian.  I do inscrutable perfectly.  I sat down by the international gate and tried to concentrate on my book.  Unfortunately, there was a child sitting next to me nattering on about his/her open, gaping, pus-filled wound.  It was covered with a bandage, and the father (I think)  was lecturing the child to take the bandage off.  This is when said child talked about how smelly and pus-filled the wound was.

Yum.  So not what I wanted to hear while waiting to meet the man of my drea–er, daydreams.  I only have nightmares, so he was not the man of my dreams.  He was the man of my daydreams, and I was hoping he wasn’t really a figment of my overheated imagination.  I waited.  And waited.  And waited.  His plane was early, but he had to go through customs.  I was getting nervous as I stared fixedly at the glass doors.  Suddenly, from another direction, a tall, cute, redheaded man was smiling down at me.  It was Idle!** I smiled broadly and threw myself into his arms and hugged him hard. In an instant, all my doubts melted away. I didn’t feel as if we were meeting for the first time, but that we were continuing a well-established relationship. His scent was powerfully attractive to me, and I didn’t want to let go. I had come home.

P.S.  Running long as usual.  I’mma end this here and will write about the actual visit in the next post.  By the way, I found this totally adorable series of a girl and her ape, and I wanted to use one of the pics, but they’re not open source.  So, instead, I link for you.

*So I’ve been told.
**There are two international gates at the airport, and I always mess up in choosing the gate.