The Thing Lurking Beneath The Surface

The thing is, long story short, her partner isn’t being a good partner and I think my friend would be better off without her. It breaks my heart seeing her treated that way and the way she’s been broken down by it. My friend is so kind and passionate and creative and beautiful, she could do so much better.

She’s talked about leaving her partner, because she knows the way she’s being treated isn’t right, but she’s scared because she feels like she needs her partner, she doesn’t know how to live without her.

If she leaves, she’s talked about the possibility of us being together. I have… so many feelings about that.

Selfishly, I’d love that. She’s so sweet and affectionate and we have a really great time hanging out. I would feel so darn lucky to be with such a beautiful and fun loving girl. She’s talked about the ways she wished she was treated, and I know from experience that doing those things makes me really happy. I love picking up little treats from the store for someone I care about just because I think whatever it is might make them smile. I love stopping on my way to pick wild flowers to give them just because. I love taking care of someone when they’re sick or feeling down and doing everything I can to help them feel a little bit better. And I’m really happy when the people I care about find other people that make them happy. I love watching people I love find other people and things that make them light up and love being alive. I love watching the people I love, love and be loved by others. And that’s one thing she’s increadibly good at. She just loves people. She’s overflowing with it. Honestly, I envy her. I wish I was brave enough to show that much care and tenderness for the people around me.

On the other hand, I really really do not want to fall into the same roll as her current partner. My friend needs to know she can survive and thrive on her own or she’s never going to be in a healthy long term relationship. She’ll put up with things she shouldn’t, change in ways she shouldn’t have to, and suffer when she doesn’t need to if she thinks she needs a partner to survive. I don’t think anybody should need another person so much they’ll let themselves be hurt. Leaving NEEDS to be a viable option for any relationship to be healthy.

If we dated, I’d be scared of her developing the same emotional dependency on me. If a couple months down the line she figured out I wasn’t what she wanted, I wouldn’t want her to stay just because she felt like she needed to be with somebody. If we had arguments I would always be scared when we resolved them that she had just settled because she needed things to go back to being alright between us. I would never, ever, want her to change or hold herself back to fit what she thought I wanted because she felt like she needed me to like her.

Anyways, all of that is to say, I think I could make a good rebound guy. If she needs someone there to catch her in order to feel safe enough to leave her partner, I’ve got her. I can be there for her and comfort her while she mourns the breakup. I can help her get her confidence back and give her the encouragement she needs in order to spread her wings and fly again. I don’t mind being the warm body she uses to learn that she doesn’t need that person specifically by her side in order to sleep. And eventually, I’d hope she’d learn she doesn’t need me either, or anyone, because she’s a strong, capable, and independant adult who knows how to be happy on her own. We could go on adventures and make new friends and learn new things. And if I do my job right, then hopefully she falls more in love with life and herself than me.

I don’t know if we would last, but, at least for me, that wouldn’t be the point. I don’t believe things need to last forever to be a good thing. We could have a great time, for however long, and then we could move on having added to our collections of good memories and grown as people. Or maybe we find a way to allow enough space in the relationship for both of us to be confident that she knows she can leave and be alright on her own whenever she wants and we end up sticking together, just in a very different kind of relationship.

I like kids. I’ve got a lot of empathy for them, even though I don’t usually have much empathy for people my own age. I’ve worked with kids a lot and it can be very taxing, but I’ve found it very rewarding. I’ve always imagined myself being a parent at some point and in moments where I’m kinder to myself, I think that I could even be a good one.

But I can’t face the idea of hurting a person the way my parents hurt me.

I could promise myself I’d never make the mistakes they did, that I’d be more intentional and more observant, that I’d never let myself get carried away like that, that I’d care more.

But the thing is, my parents loved me, and that’s the terrifying part. There are plenty of parents who simply never gave a damn about their kids, so it makes sense that they hurt them and it’s easy to say you’d do better, and there’s a good chance you’d be right. But even for all the horrible things my parents did wrong, that may have really been the absolute best they knew how to do. I honestly don’t know what’s worse. That the way the say they have always loved me is a lie, or that it’s true and things still went so wrong.

My father would do anything in his power for me. He’s generous well beyond his means and emphatic in his praise. He worked himself nearly to death for as long as I’ve been alive to make sure me and my brother had a roof over our head. He still got drunk and molested me every chance he got since the time I was eight years old, and still tries to now if I’m not careful when I visit.

My mother homeschooled me and my brother. She put in countless hours of work to teach us everything from math to writing essays. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of sitting on the bed folding laundry and watching tv shows with her. She’s comforted me through nervous breakdowns, listened to me sob about the ways I’ve been hurt, and even done her best to understand my queerness and why I feel the way I do even though her religion tells her she’s not supposed to sympathize with such things. But only after turning a blind eye to the way my father was abusing me, my severe childhood clinical depression, and refusing to rescue me and my brother when I called her and pleaded for her to come get us because I knew it wasn’t safe to be around my father while he was drunk.

Even my father, who I’ve hated since I was old enough to know the word, still undeniably did leagues better than his dad did. It must have taken him monumental amounts of effort and intentionality to keep from reinacting the ways he learned parenting and to figure out how to be better for his kids.

If he tried that hard, and still messed up that bad, what kind of hubris would it be for me to ever say “I know for certain I’d be a better father” ?

I may not ever forgive them for their mistakes, but I recognize them as undeniably human ones. My parents are traumatized people who did their best to survive unbearable heartbreak and gave into their vices as little as they could help, just like me.

I can’t bear the thought of looking into the eyes of someone I have loved with every ounce of my soul and done everything I possibly could for, and still seeing the brokenness, pain, and hatred my parents left in me.

Cuz like, I’m a real kinky dude. I get turned on by the idea of inflicting pain and humiliation and making my partner a helpless incoherent mess. But ONLY if the other person is also really into it.