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Initially, I thought it was my friend Crystal. I mistook the area code for North Carolina, and thought she had already switched her cell; she’s moving there shortly. A day later, they reference hiking to the Alligator Juniper; that didn’t seem like Crystal, who’s packing for a move. I love a challenge, however, so I didn’t mind texting a mystery person, trying to figure out who it was without asking. I mentioned it to the Buckeye as I took him to the airport; he immediately assumed it was someone I used to date. I replied it had to be someone from the Project (Tribute Fence Preservation Project) and he requested I ask; so I did.
I dropped off the Buckeye and headed north to Prescott. I hadn’t considered it being someone I had dated, usually those who popped back up readily identified themselves in hopes of another date! Surely it was someone I knew from the Project, they knew too much about it. Curious, I googled the number; this time I saw the area code was actually Georgia, not North Carolina.
I might have had a brief moment of panic right then.
A year ago right now, I spent several hours every evening enchanted by a man in Virginia with a Georgia area code. We met, I fell; he did not. He ghosted me without a trace until last spring, apologizing. In many ways, it was his reappearance that gave me the courage to ask the Buckeye just where our relationship was going-up until then we’d only been casually dating while becoming friends in the process. The man left again, and popped up six weeks or so later. This time when we connected, I ghosted him. I was quite enamored with my Buckeye, and saw no need to engage with this man from my past.
Except there was this little issue about his hat.
I kinda gave it a Instagram page....known as
The Buckeye has always known about the hat; during our first four months of casually dating we chatted about everything. So I told him of the man who had simply disappeared but had left his hat...and how I decided to take it on an adventure instead of throwing it away. It was an exercise in social media (it’s funny how many people follow the page) and the power of hashtags; it was also an excellent way to get over the gut-wrenching rejection of being ghosted.
Rejection: just a year ago I wrote about my Achilles heel. I’m an outlier, I get it, but after a lifetime of rejection I’ve still found it no easier. I knew better than to indulge in a crush with a man I barely knew, but I did. Being ghosted never crossed my mind; if the feeling wasn’t mutual he’d certainly be an adult about it, right?
He wasn’t, so neither was I.
The hat sat around as a reminder of our last date for sometime before I struck on the idea of making lemonade out of that lemon. My first few posts I’m finding my footing; I admit, I was pretty hurt. As
I found more and more ridiculous situations to put the hat in, things changed; I was able to forgive the owner and realize my own missteps in the relationship. By the time he came back the first time, I was well over him; the second time, I even wondered if we could be friends. My relationship with the Buckeye by then being paramount in my life, I dismissed the idea. I decided to simply cut him off, as he had me.
I didn’t tell the Buckeye about that second connection at the time it happened; we were so newly in love I feared he’d take it wrong...which he did, a month or so later, when the Instagram account came up in conversation and he point-blank asked me when the last time I had heard from him.
I wasn’t going to lie; he wasn’t going to lie about his displeasure, either. It was our first big fight as a couple, and I wondered if it might be our undoing.
It wasn’t:)
I had actually lost the hat in May, that same month I fell in love with the Buckeye. I still posted occasionally on it’s Instagram page, and admitted freely to finding a replacement for the erstwhile hat’s owner. A few weeks ago, I found it again; I tossed it to the Buckeye to do with it what he pleased.
That weekend was to be the last weekend for the Instagram page; however, you can’t delete an account via mobile. So we planned to do it the next weekend. And forgot. Driving up the hill to Prescott yesterday I heard my phone ping. It was the answer to my question asking who had sent the text. “Ahhh that may explain why you answered.”
My heart sank.
Rereading the prior texts, I picked up the telltale reference to being stubborn; the casual, uncorrected spelling errors. I knew who it was, but sent back a simple ? instead. The Buckeye was flying for the next five hours; I screenshot the texts and sent it to him. Then I proceeded to worry.
When the Colonel confirmed his identity a few hours later, and remarked about his missing Metallica hat, I sent a snarky reply that he shouldn’t have left it. The Princess asked me why I was continuing the conversation, when I loved the Buckeye as I did. I struggled for a few minutes, trying to compose the message I had written to the half-dozen or so guys who had looked me up again since I’d become exclusive with the Buckeye. She sat opposite me, telling me I owed him nothing. I sat there in near hysterics, worried only about one thing: the Buckeye’s impending reaction to all this. He’d want to know why I wrote whatever I wrote, why I reacted, what I had done to trigger his contact. Pausing, I decided to listen to my fifteen year old daughter, who told me to simply not answer. That the Buckeye loves me, and if all I’d been telling her was true, he’d not be upset. I texted my BFF Flyboy, who agreed with her assessment. I settled in to paint trim....and couldn’t help but worry some more: I was so scared of losing the best thing that had ever happened to me.
Early this year we met, and on our second date he threw down his gauntlet:
1) Special Olympics was his call. He’d not cut back on volunteering, and he gave a lot of his time.
Last Monday night, in our matching Special Olympics shirts:)
2) No Pressure. He wasn’t going to be pushed into something he wasn’t ready for.
3) He’d decided to be a bachelor a year before, and wasn’t certain he wanted to re-enter the dating world after thoroughly enjoying the single life.
While I knew he’d reversed his decision on #3 😍, and I joyfully had joined him in #1 (I soooooooo Love Special Olympics! Golf has been wonderful, and I truly enjoy my friendship with my golf partner, Dove. Both of our games improve weekly; cannot wait until the state golf championship this weekend!!) I still respected #2. I’ve become very comfortable enjoying the here and now, and have purposed not to pressure him about our future.
Except that’s all I could think about.
I longed for a day I didn’t have to worry about losing him; when I knew he was as committed to me as I was to him. I wanted that reassurance; something more than just simple trust. His first question when he landed? Who was the mystery texter. Let’s just say he called the second he got into his hotel room:)
Flyboy was right; I didn’t need to worry. My man was far more secure in our relationship, and we were fine. He admired the Princess defending our relationship, and agreed my actions were prudent. Pretty sure that’s when I broke down crying, unable to hide my fear of his possible rejection. His loving reassurance I cherished; I was amazed how easy it was to let go of my fears.
My former English professor, Robert Ploegstra, wrote a short treatise on Love, that popped up in my “on this day” yesterday:
“More about love. The Greeks had three words for love: eros - romantic or sexual love philia - friendship love agape - choosing to be good or kind to people regardless how you feel about them. Most marriages start out with philia and eros. The couple is attracted to each other, and they also want a good and lasting friendship. I often hear people say, "My husband/wife is my best friend." And that is great. But in a truly good marriage, the partners decide to be good and kind to their partner even when they do not deserve it. They understand that everyone has bad days and have compassion their partner. They refrain from making critical remarks. They compliment when they see good things (which also reinforces the good behavior). Good marriages contain all three kinds of love: eros, philia, and agape. And the best marriage partners consistently practice agape.....”
The Buckeye and I started out with philia, friendship. Four months later, we moved into eros, romantic love. Two weeks ago, we had a serious argument, which we worked though in a very agape manner...and it changed things. Sitting on the porch last night, talking to my man in Nashville, I heard compassion instead of jealousy. Patience instead of frustration. Understanding instead of suspicion. Trust. Agape love.
This trifecta being present has changed things, again. I had drinks last night with my friend Russ, and remarked on the change...he high-fived me after I shared. “Kate, we all hope for exactly what you described,” he said, reminding me that my fear of rejection was what had triggered my tears and worries, rather than what actually transpired. My fears had me assuming the worst when in truth, the best had happened instead. Our bond deepened, and grew stronger. The Buckeye proved again, beyond a shadow of a doubt, who loved me and cherished me. I actually considered (for two long seconds) getting a tattoo to surprise him (not my thing, I don’t have any. The Buckeye has 14) when Russ suggested we go get tattoos after drinks; it surprised me how quickly an idea for one popped into my head. A quick yelp search revealing all area tattoo shops to be closed shut down any further thoughts of actually doing it; driving home I thought further on it. Was my willingness to even consider it be me further demonstrating my commitment to him? Knowing the design I had in mind was a pure reference to our falling in love, I had to concede I was wanting to lavishly prove my love. Not over fear of rejection, but rather quite the opposite: I’ve met my match.
Today he’s texting me pictures from his tourist visits, and I’m enjoying every picture as if I was there.
I mention my love of Minnie Pearl, he sends me this:)
We’re joking as if I was beside him, not thousands of miles apart. It’s fun, it’s easy, it’s us. No wonder I don’t ever want to lose him; yesterday simply pushed that to the forefront. All I could think of was his reaction to the time before, forgetting the circumstances and forgetting our newness at the time. The comparison of the two events shows the evolution of our relationship, and how (once again) I need to slow down. I jumped to conclusions based on the past, instead of the here and now. Fit together puzzle pieces don’t just fall apart, especially when interlocked on more than one side. Together our lives are completing a picture...and I’m admiring how beautifully it’s coming together. Love, quite simply, has changed everything.
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