Life Worth Living

He called me today from faraway Rome. His voice was soft so as to not disturb other patrons of the hotel through its thin walls. It made him sound tired, sad, forlorn and lonely all the way across the world. We shared stories about our days; his was more exciting than mine. I made the mistake of telling him that a guy who had been texting me sporadically since June had contacted me again today. He didn’t say anything for a long time, and then when I prompted him, he admitted him that he was annoyed at the persistence.

“Why do you keep bringing it up, anyway?” he challenged me.

“I…because, well, there’s just not that much to tell you about my day.” I didn’t want to tell him the other reason, because that would mean admitting that I liked being pursued by another guy—and what girl doesn’t? It makes us feel special, wanted, desired. We changed the subject.

He sounded so far away, so despondent. I wished he didn’t have to speak so softly, because it only illuminated the fact that I couldn’t reach out to touch him. Finally, he said “I should be going.” We said our goodbyes. I waited for him to hang up. Instead, the grainy silence persisted.

He said very hesitantly, “There was something I…wanted to…say to you at the airport, but…I didn’t want it to be creepy…” He trailed off. I waited. My heart pounded.

“What did you want to tell me?” I asked, breaking the silence. I could hardly breathe; I wanted to press pause on this moment to give myself time to prepare for what I knew was coming, to gather my thoughts and to think of something to say. Don’t say “I love you,” don’t say “I love you” I heard myself repeating over and over again in my head while I waited for him to answer. No no no no I wasn’t ready for it yet. I was scared and I just wished that I was reading him wrong, that for some reason he was just being inappropriately nervous to tell me that he’d forgotten to bring his shorts to Rome.

Finally, his voice came small and uncertain over the line. “I just wanted to tell you…that…” I could feel him taking a deep breath. “…I…love you.”

I closed my eyes, willing the world to stop turning. “Wow,” I managed, for lack of anything better to say. He rushed ahead and rescued me for the time being. “I didn’t realise how much I cared for you until you left, and I didn’t mean to do this over the phone, but I figured if it’s how I felt I should just tell you.”

Your turn, something inside me said. “Well…thank you.” I stuttered. Thank you, I told him, when he said that he loved me. Just like on Gilmore Girls! my brain thought giddily. My life is a soap opera! Nonononono you did not just tell him “thank you” for saying “I love you.”

“Thank you?” he repeated. “That’s…just about the worse response you could give me.”

I tried to explain that I don’t move as quickly as some people, he knew that, and it’s hard because he’s so far away and I needed more time. I tried to choose my words as carefully as I could, to make sure I was saying “I’m not in love with you now, but I think I will be soon,” without implying “I wont ever be in love with you” or “I’ll definitely be in love with you someday.”

He sighed. “I probably shouldn’t have said it.”

“No,” I said even though I wasn’t sure that I meant it, “I’m glad you did.”

“Yeah,” he replied uncertainly. “I mean, I know what I feel is true, but this is new for me, because I’ve never been the first one to say it before, and it’s hard because you never tell me how you feel or express your emotions, so…I guess I’m just scared because I have no idea what you’re feeling.”

I know! my mind screamed. This is exactly what I’ve identified over and over again as my problem. Stupid emotional deficiency BS! I swallowed, then told him what I’ve never told any boy, what isn’t much for most people but for me meant so much, because it meant that I had to be something that I have always been so afraid of being that it’s created my problem in the first place—vulnerable.

“I like you very very much,” I said slowly, willing it out word by word not because I didn’t mean it with all my heart, but because it scared every inch of my being to say it. “And I miss you, very very much.”

I wanted to say more. I wanted to tell him that he was so perfect in so many ways, that after nine months of knowing him I still can’t see any major flaws in him, that I’ve pined for him for months and months, that I think about him a thousand times every day, that I would trade San Diego and my upcoming European cruise and trip to Vegas for two more months in Berkeley with him, that he makes me feel beautiful and wonderful and worthy and so so special, that I think he is beautiful and wonderful and worthy and so so special, that if I don’t end up falling in love with him there really would be something significantly wrong with me.

All this and more I wanted to tell him, but small steps is what it takes for me to open up. I wish I could have said “I love you too,” but I’m glad I didn’t say it if I wasn’t sure I meant it. I feel a little overwhelmed, like all of a sudden there’s a huge burden on me—I’m someone’s love, that’s no little thing. What if I can’t live up to it? What if he changes his mind? And what if I hurt him? I’m afraid I did, today, and listening to his voice break had me close to tears.  I want to sit down and talk to him about it, and I want him to be able to look in my eyes and see how much I care about him rather than have the words hollowed across thousands of miles. I hate that all I had to offer him was a few noncommittal words most girls say to their boyfriends the very first week of going out, and I hate that I have so much trouble with this.

But I think he understands, because he knows me, and I think more than being hurt about it he was sad because we were apart. “That will do for now,” he told me, and the conversation was left open and hanging, unresolved. It’s not something that will unravel itself, and it’s not something I want to unravel until we are together in person. In the meantime, summer, and I pray to whatever my confused soul believes in that we don’t fall apart in this month and a half. But I don’t think I’ll need that misguided prayer. In a way, I do get the pause button I wanted to let my feelings grow and maybe when the leaves turn gold again I’ll be able to tell him what he wants to hear. It’s a lot of time and space to sift through, but I’ll sift, because it will only make what we find at the end so much sweeter.