ad infinitum

Speaking of being honest, I got the best news one day. Someone that I thought about getting to know better told me, “I take relationships seriously, and value commitment. But I’d be foolish to think I could commit to one right now.” I wanted to grab this mans face and kiss him right then and there.

I’m about to bitch, but I really did appreciate the fact he brought it up to begin with. Except, I never asked for anything. Not an explanation, nor a “talk,” and definitely not any commitment. Because I already knew the aforementioned, and didn’t need to hear him reiterate it. And you know what Mr. Man Whose Honesty I Genuinely Appreciate Even Though You Lightweight Insulted My Intelligence? I GET IT. Men of the world? Believe it or not, but sometimes WE GET IT.

We get that you just got out of a relationship, and more than likely don’t want to get in another one any time soon. We get that you love coming and going as you please, and relish not having to check in or check out with anyone. We get that everyone’s “just a friend.” We get that we are also free to date whoever we want and you wouldn’t even flinch. We get that you are busy, and young, and handsome, and in your prime having the time of your life. We get that you’d be stupid to give that up right now.

But sweetie, you need to get that we get it. And we’re not mad, we have no reason to be. We’re just a little annoyed. Because it’s not always about you. It’s not about you telling us what you can do, it’s about us letting you know what we can’t. 

by  STEPHANIE GEORGOPULOS

I like how you mispronounce words sometimes, how you fumble and stammer and stutter looking for the right ones to say and the right ways to say them. I appreciate that you find language challenging, because it is, because everything manmade is challenging. Including man, including you.

When you sleep on your side, I like to map the constellations between your beauty marks freckles pimples, the minuscule mountains that sprinkle your back. I like the tufts of hair you forgot to shave and the way you smell when you haven’t showered in a while; I like the sleep left in your eyes.

I like the way your skin dies in the middle of the night, how you die from embarrassment the next morning; how you writhe in the snake casing you’ve left behind. I like that you think pillow snowflakes carry more weight than pillow talk; that you think my opinion of you is so fickle that it could change overnight. (It’s not.)

I enjoy seeing you insecure, vulnerable. I like to watch red steam light up your cheeks, a spreading mist of shame when you think you’ve done something unacceptable like missing a step on the stairs or not having the perfect answer to something I’ve said. It’s like you honestly don’t know how wonderful you are, it’s like you have no idea.

The burns, the scars, the black and blues on your face body heart, I want to know their stories. I want to know what hurt you, who hurt you, how bad the damage is. I like your hard, ugly toenails and the layer of fat that lines your belly, the soft parts you try to hide. It’s okay to be soft, sometimes.

I appreciate your ability to get inappropriately angry as much as I appreciate your willingness to apologize afterward. I like how your passion manifests unpredictably and uncontrollably, how your feelings cannot be caged or concealed, how you’re incapable of apathy.

I like how you can’t dance, how you have pedestrian taste in music, how the worst song on every album is your favorite. I like how enthusiastic you are when you hear it, it’s like you don’t know how terrible it is, it’s like maybe how you’re able to love someone like me. (Perhaps that’s your biggest flaw, perhaps that’s the one I love most.)

Your flaws single you out, set you apart, make you different from the rest, and thank god. I don’t just put up with settle for accept your blemishes, I like them. I like them because they make you human, and humans are easier to love than photographs and illusions and ideals; humans fit more easily between arms and between legs; humans are welcome to their imperfections because if there’s one thing humans can do perfectly, it’s love. Humans can love, they can do it flawlessly

She really does. Last night, after hours of homework, I decided to hit the gym to get out of my room. While on the elliptical, I shot my mother a text message asking her if she’d be available for me to call her after I came back. She said of course, and asked if there was anything serious that I needed to talk about. I said no, and that was that. 

I then called her, and after catching up on old news and filling her in on my life here, I began to pour my heart out and ask for advice with some things I’ve been struggling with. It took a little bit of courage, because I honestly don’t talk to my mom about a lot of things a lot of the time, but I’m so glad I did. I ended up having one of the most heartfelt conversations I’ve ever had with anyone (let alone my mother)! After talking to her for about an hour and a half (definitely our longest phone conversation ever), I went to sleep at peace with myself and ended up having the best sleep of my life.

I don’t regret things easily, but I guess I regret waiting so long to consult my mother about my life. Cause if you really think about it, my mom DOES know best. Seriously…. Who has known me longer than my mom? Who has traveled with me, eaten with me, seen me at my happiest, seen me at my worst? Who has been there after yelling and screaming and has forgiven pretty much everything just because I humbled down enough to say, “I’m sorry?”. She’s the one who has been there for me implicity and explicitly through all of my joys and heartbreaks, since BEFORE day 1. 

I trust and respect my mother’s opinion more than anyone will ever know. She makes me feel validated and love, and she appreciates what I have to say. Above all, she listens to me and helps me. Gotta love her.