Monday, December 24, 2012

An open letter

So, things are going shittily between my younger sister and the guy she married a few months ago. In terms of divorce papers have been signed and she came here for Christmas because she didn't want to have to deal with a bunch of people in our family asking about what happened and such. Which just meant she spent a lot of time here crying. Which means I am plotting various ways to now inflict pain on this person she married because it makes me very angry when people treat the people I care about carelessly.

In reflection of this, Now-hubby took it upon himself to message Frisbee and tell him that I am in a bad mood but could use people to care about me. Which ultimately makes me feel appreciated and loved but also on the other hand slightly pissed because when I am angry the first thing I want is people to care about me. Which means it's the last thing I'll actually admit to wanting.

In addition to all this, I went to a very good friend from college's wedding this past weekend. He is one of those rare platonic exceptions in my pantheon of male friends. Which is not to say that instances have not arisen. It's more to say that if I had been raised slightly different (see: with a penis):

 I might have possibly been this person, so the mental image of the two of us existing in a genital-touching sort of way is either really awkward or too awesome to handle. Which means his wedding was pretty alright, actually. If I had ever decided to be married in a monogamous sense of the word (which I did, sort of, once), it's probably a lot how I would have done it.

One of the things that happened during the ceremony was a wine box thing. I haven't seen this before in a wedding ceremony thing, so it was interesting just in that right. The point is people getting married (I changed it from "bride and groom," wanna fight about it?) write love letters to each other and then seal it in a box with a bottle of wine. This box is to be opened either on the first anniversary of marriage (if things go well), or sooner if things seem not to be going so well. (Me to Now-hubby during the ceremony: "So, the wine could be opened soon as this is over, right? And then you just hold onto the letters like, 'well, we love each other even though we're clearly alcoholics.'")

Which, in the long and the short of everything, made me want to write love letters. Caché this away for the future and fucking make note of it. I don't do this type of honest expression of feeling often.

To Now-hubby:

I love that you've stuck by me. More than anything else I love that you knew me back in 2003 and you haven't at any point given up on me even though sometimes I revert back to that version of myself even now. I love that you are my "normal," even though my therapist frowns upon me using that word. I like that you are the one I can turn to and ask, "is this something that normal people do?" and you will give me a genuine answer. (i.e. Think about morbidly random things that could happen to you? "normal" Obsess about minute flaws in your personal appearance? Possibly not normal.) Although I know you are not the standard definition of "normal," you offer a tipping point for my perspective, and are endlessly patient with me while I try to figure out what "normal" for me entails. When we fuck, I love how enthusiastic you are; the way you describe things to me without turning it into a creepy narrative. I love how you've been willing to try a lot of the things I wanted to experiment with, just because you knew it would turn me on. I like how you will give me space when I am angry, even when your first instinct tells you to hold onto me and not let go. I love that we are into fairly different things as far as everything is concerned (art, music, movies, etc), but there is enough of an overlap that I know we belong. When I look at the examples you've been set - your parents and your grandparents on both sides - I know that you wouldn't have committed to this unless you were in it for the long haul.


I love that you are endlessly available to make me happy. Regardless of where I am or how I'm feeling you are there to ask me if I want to talk about things, and you ask it from a genuine place, which makes me feel more willing to share things with you. I love that you were honest about us from the start, which means you are willing to accept me for who I am and will be willing to do the extra leg work required if it means being with me. I love that I met you and you didn't question who I was or the type of relationship I happened to be in when you met me. I like that we met at an unconventional place (gang bang party), but you are okay with me telling people we met though "mutual friends" because I am uncomfortable admitting that aspect of myself to people currently. I like that whenever I am around you, you find a way to be close to me.  Whether I want it or not you are in cuddle mode, and that's invariably what I need.

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