Talking It Out

We talk a lot, Mr. J2 and I, about what went wrong in our respective marriages/relationships.

He talks a lot more about The Ex than I do about mine, but I understand why. It’s still new to him, and he still needs to work things out.

I get that. I really do. And I support him in it, because it means the more he sees how badly she treated him, the more he will see that she did the right thing and that he is better off without her.

We talk openly. Honestly. He admits he didn’t communicate well in his marriage and only really learned how to talk openly about his needs, wants and feelings over the last 18 months.

It pains me to hear him talk about being unappreciated; he is the sweetest man I’ve ever met. One morning last week my car was covered in snow, as was his, from an overnight snowfall.

Even though he had to leave by 5:10 am, he found the time to quickly brush my car off as he was doing his own.

Seriously.

I have never had a man clean my car off for me.

Ever.

And it probably only took two minutes for him to do… but it meant the world to me.

Last week I was at his house every night. Each night I made sure there was a hot meal waiting when he got home from work.

I shoveled his driveway when it needed it.

No, I don’t live there. And no, I didn’t have to do any of those things. But I did because this man has a heart as big as anyone I’ve known, and it makes me sad when he tells me how unappreciated he felt for so many years. He’s such a giving man so the least I can do is give something back to him. Not to spend money or buy him ‘things’, but instead to do something for him so he doesn’t have to.

Because it makes me happy to see him happy. He appreciates me like no one else ever has before.

On our last night together last week he asked me, out of the blue as we were washing dishes, “so what worked and what didn’t work for you when you lived with someone?”

So we talked. For over an hour, about what worked for both of us. We both know that moving in together and living together is inevitable for us. I mean, we’ve only been dating for two months but the connection we have is really strong.

We’re both thinking about moving in together, although I know he won’t rush into anything because of his kids. But I know it’s what he wants, to have that family unit again – even if one of the members has changed.

And it scares me.

Moving in, making a family unit with him and his kids. It’s all I’ve been thinking about this weekend while he has been away. When to tell my roommate… what I will take with me and what will get recycled… where my things will go… and what to do with my cat. (No way is my cat coming to that house with me – I will have to find a new home for him if my roommate doesn’t want to keep him.)

The best case scenario would be for my roommate to just stay here and take over the lease, leave all the furniture I won’t need and keep the cat.

But my life is rarely, if ever, best case scenario.

Sadly it is usually worst-case scenario.

I know I am rushing things. I know that.

It’s what I do; I think too far ahead.

Instead I need to live in the here and now. And that is difficult for me to do. This weekend without Mr. J2 has been long and lonely. With everything I do – laundry, cooking, cleaning – makes me think of what it would be like to be doing that with him and his family in his house.

And then the insecurities set in.

Will I be good enough?

Will I be sane enough?

Will I make him happy enough?

Will I be happy enough?

When I am at his place with him, my life is so different from it is when I am at my house. I’m not a different person, it’s more that. When I am at home I always have my laptop open and I surf the net (Facebook, WordPress, news sites, etc.) while something mindlessly plays on the television in front of me.

It is not a happy existence.

But it’s what I have.

When I am with Mr. J2, at his house, it’s much different.

I arrive at his place (after a quick stop for groceries) around five. I wash the few dishes he has left from his lunch and breakfast. He texts me at 5:30 when he is on the shuttle to his car; and then if he makes connections and traffic isn’t too bad he should be home by 6:10. We eat dinner and then wash dishes together. Then after we shovel the driveway (if needed), or he does some errands (Home Depot one night to get lightbulbs), or a little work to send emails and get organized while I sat on the sofa and read my book.

It was simple and yet fulfilling and normal at the same time.

Last week was a week of leftovers so I didn’t do much cooking for him, but I think he appreciated coming home to a meal that was if not ready, it was planned. Twice last week he only arrived home at 6:30 pm because of weather.

He told me many times how much he appreciated my taking care of him that week. How amazing I am because I like to cook and plan meals.

No one ever appreciated my planning before. All the men I lived with mocked me for it.

And this week I actually had a thought: do I do all these things for him (shoveling, dishes, cooking, etc.) because I want to do them, or because deep down I think that if I do enough things for him he will realize he can’t live without me?

Because surely this amazing man can’t love me just for me, right? It has to be because of the things I do for him, not just because of me.

Not just because I can (and like to) cook.

Not just because I am smart funny as hell.

Not just because I like sex and like to please my partner in bed.

Just because of me.

It’s going to take some getting used to. That this handsome, sexy, funny, caring, loving, sweet man loves me for me.

And I am willing to spend the rest of my life getting used to it.

 

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