The One Who Has Me

“To tell the truth, I forgot it was Mother's Day, unless I wanted something… Then I used it.” This while complaining that her mom dared be upset that she didn't call her on Mother's Day. Let's set aside what it says about how meaningful the cards and gifts from the kids and me were to her…

She's a borderline narcissist.

There's nothing new about this. I've known it from the start. And spent more than two decades trying to “fix” her.

And that right there is probably the number one obstacle to us ever being “us”, even more so than those rings that adorn each of our fingers. We're both “fixers”. We don't break things. We just don't. It's not in either of our natures. That's why we've spent the past couple years walking up to the line, maybe even sticking a tiny bit of a toe over it… but then backing off.

We'll see how long that lasts. It seems a little bit more of that toe goes over each time. And a friend of mine once told me that her therapist said in a situation likes ours, somebody always eventually “flops”. That was the word, “flop”. Anyhow.

That was such an awkward moment a few weeks ago, wasn't it? When you asked her if she was feeling better. I think I wrote about this already, but it comes back to mind from time to time. It came back to mind again today, when she asked me if I had done a thing that I had already told her I had done.

I told her I saw you. I told her that we talked. I told her you asked after her. I told her I told you she had been sick. I told her to expect an invitation from you. I made absolutely certain to tell her about the ideas we discussed involving mini-golf and the waterpark.

Yet she was surprised when you asked her if she was feeling better.

I don't know if you caught the look on my face. I'm not even sure what face I was making. But I wasn't even remotely surprised that she was confused. It was just yet another of the truly countless examples of just exactly how much attention I'm paid.

I have no idea why she claimed not to have been sick, though. She had a fever, took a Covid test and everything. That part, I was confused about. But anyways.

As if I needed further confirmation that my words had fallen on deaf ears, when your invitation came through a week later, she presented it to me as if it were a new thing. Not a thing I had told her to expect.

This is how my life has been for over twenty years.

I don't tell you these things so you'll feel sorry for me. If anything, I'm telling you them so you don't feel sorry for her. She's had her chances. She's been made aware of the wedges that are falling between us, if she'd bother to listen. Yet she chooses to let them lie, or even drive them further in.

So yes, I thought I could “fix” her. I thought if I showed her, day in and day out, what it looks like to love another person… she would learn. She would reciprocate. My happiness would become important to her, even when it wasn't currently affecting her own.

Or, once we had children, I hoped that she would learn love through them… And I'm sure she does love them, in her way. But here a decade and a half later her primary concern is always how they reflect on her. “How do you think that makes me look as your parent?” She asks, every time there's any issue.

I don't know this was the turning point, it's so hard to really see things that occurred so far back without coloring them with newer experiences, but… After she took her coworker into at least her hands…

The fact that it had been a decade and a half and nothing had changed, even as I made change after change after change for her.

I could have slipped my cage then. I sometimes wish I had, though I likely wouldn't have been so close to your orbit anymore if I had. Not that that was a concern yet — I've always liked you a bit too much, but… not like now. But I'm a fixer, remember? So I fixed things.

But the polish started to wear off. The idea that a “fix” was even possible started to fade away.

I supposedly have a “freebie” after that, by the way. Not that I believe her for a second about that. But she insists I do. She brings it up from time to time, as if daring me. Since years before I fell so thoroughly into you.

There is nothing ok with this whole thing, but… I feel like having had a “freebie” since before it even began for me (even if it is a honeypot), since you were just the neighbor I liked a tad too much, and during all of the years since I lost my grip on that tiger's tail… and have never even tried to use it… I think I deserve at least a tiny bit of credit for that. Just the merest sliver, but still.

Then again, I suppose part of that is I have no desire whatsoever for just a fling with you. I want to spend my life with you. I don't think the freebie covers that.

The hell of it is, the stupid cycle I've locked myself into, is even now, even when I know what I want, know it all of the way down to my absolute core…

I still keep fixing things. Fixing and fixing and fixing.

But it's wearing me down.

Each time things break… each time she gaslights me (oh, but oh no, she tells me, women can't gaslight men, it only works the other way around)… each time I realize my words are unheard, my needs are uncared for… each time I'm reminded that expressing even the tiniest ounce of dissatisfaction is an automatic argument, no matter how gently I present it…

I get that much closer to either giving up, or giving in.

It's not an excuse. It's not the reason. It's not why. My love for you is entirely independent of that. I spent that whole first year soul-searching to make certain of that. But you… I sometimes feel more love coming off of you after a five-minute chat at the end of your driveway than I've felt in a lifetime from her.

And, even if that's all it ever is. Even if we never manage to amount to anything more than just friendlier than normal neighbors… you… you are a bright spot in my life, a lighthouse, a beacon. The brightest star in my sky. And I will forever appreciate that. Forever love you for it, even if it always remains from afar.

I love you.

I appreciate you.

You're the one who really has me. You have my heart, even if you don't have my hand.

I hope you always know that.

With all of the love this broken old heart can muster, yours. Forever.